The night air hit me like a spike to the ribs. I stumbled behind Seymuhr, half pulled, half carried like an unseated horseman still tangled in his saddle. I could not pull my wrist free from Seymuhr's steely grip, so I tried to get my feet under me and regain my balance as I looked over my shoulder at the The Bent Lance. A man peered timidly out the door, then pointed in our direction.
"What did you do to that man?"
A grunt was his only reply.
"Let me go!" I shouted, pulling at my trapped hand. "I don't know who you are or what you think you're going to do to me, but I promise you it...it won't go well for you." I didn't know what was more embarrassing, being pulled along like a string of fish or not being able to come up with a witty or dire consequence. I stopped trying to keep pace and set my feet, thinking he would let me go if he knew he had to drag me behind him like a broken wagon. I probably didn't have to delay him for long—surely, even a town this small had some form of guard, and they had been alerted by the patrons of the Bent Lance.
Seymuhr paused only for a second. He looked me up and down, scowled, then hoisted me on his shoulder and continued on his way. If my struggling and kicking caused him any difficulty, he gave so sign.
There were still a few people on the street, despite the lateness of the hour. To my chagrin, none of them were uniformed. Nobody seemed too interested in helping what obviously was a struggling, panic-stricken woman, either, although plenty were willing to move aside, point and call out insults. I slapped his back and pounded on his shoulders with my fists, but my hands quickly grew sore and he acted as if he didn't even notice, so I decided to save my strength and plot my escape. He had to set me down, sometime. I might only have a second or two, then.
Alt was not a large city, but it possessed enough winding alleyways to disorient me—given that I could only see our route in reverse. Perhaps I could translate this experience into more coins: A Backwards Guide to the Alleyways of Alt. I could see some possibilities there. I tried to memorize each turn and distinguishing mark I could find. I would need to remember them to find my way back to the relative safety of the main streets.
Soon Seymuhr slowed, though not because he was fatigued. His breath was no more rapid than it had been. He took one final look over his shoulder, then up at the nearby rooftops. I followed his gaze, but could see nothing. The moon was invisible, the stars hidden behind a blanket of clouds that roiled in the autumnal wind.
Apparently satisfied with what he saw, he moved toward a shadowed alcove that I hadn't noticed before and then slipped inside it. We passed through a low aperture—and I shouted in pain as the oaf knocked my skull against the stone—and then we were outside the city, weaving through the darker shadows beneath the trees.
My heart hammered and the first tendrils of real fear rippled down my arms and spine like an icy snake. Being carried kicking and screaming through the town—as humiliating as that had been—was nothing compared to being carried off into the forest, where I could killed and buried or just cast aside to be found by some wandering soul days or weeks after the woodland creatures snacked on my bones.
"Let me go," I whispered, hating how timid I sounded. "Please, I will not tell anyone where you've gone. I..."
We approached a dull flickering light that I soon discovered was a small campfire that was partially hidden by a hulking shape. I caught a quick glimpse of other figures as I was dumped painfully on the ground. I rolled over and pushed myself up as Seymuhr dusted off his hands. I heard a sword slide from a sheath and the large form turned to me, his bearded face framing eyes that squinted in suspicion. The edge of his blade glinted in the soft light of the dying fire.
"Well," his voice was a deep rumble, filled with casual menace. "What do we have here?"
