Blue couldn’t remember the town’s name, though he’d told her. She ate too much, apparently, so here they were, prowling a small market. A busy, small market. The stallholders sold more than food.
There. A faded purple cloak with a hood, and some black gloves, lay beneath a pile of clothes. Her heart stuttered, reminding how reckless this might be.
She’d pickpocketed from Sassik’s pack when she’d seen they were coming here. Grab your shoes, he’d said. She’d grabbed shoes and coins.
This was her chance. He was haggling for food with a boy at the next stall. Kindly haggling. He even smiled at the kid. So strange.
Though she wore cuffs, she wasn’t leashed – it would’ve tangled in this crowd. The road coming in had been edged by forest. If she reached it, she could hide.
Do it.
The stall holder looked suspicious but shrugged and gave her the clothes when she handed over coins.
Walk.
She walked fast, around the corner into a new aisle, past the last stall, and she kept going, shrugging on the cloak, tying it, pulling up the hood to cover her hair. The gloves were tight but concealed her nails. Short of amputating her fingers and going bald, this was her best option.
Her stride lengthened.
The houses thinned further down the street. There was the edge of town. A side street would be safer. If Sassik sprinted after her, he’d not see her easily. She took the left turn and began to jog, until the next turn brought her into a short street that doglegged back onto the main one.
If she cut through someone’s yard?
Blue glanced over her shoulder and spun. A man followed; Worat, the whoremaster. Cold slid into her veins. The man eyed her, grin widening.
“Hello, pretty thing. Want to leave your master?”
“He’s not my master.” She whirled and took off at a run, only to find another man before her – lean, scarred of face, and brandishing a knife.
Do the unexpected. Her uncle had taken great pains to teach her knifeplay, how to defend herself. Pretending she couldn’t stop, she ran at the man, arms outflung. He lifted the knife skyward to clear her.
She pivoted and slammed a boot into his groin. He screeched and doubled over. Plucking the blade from his limp fingers, Blue ducked to the side. Worat was drawing a handgun of some sort. Without time to consider the ramifications, she threw the knife and watched it sink into his chest, hilt deep.
Missed the ribs. Gone straight in. Oh, fuck. But she’d meant to do something deadly.
He staggered then collapsed, wheezing and plucking at the knife. Blood flooded his shirt.
“You little bitch!” The second man seized her wrist. Though Blue tried to pull her hand away, his grip was iron. She kicked again but he laughed and jerked her off balance.
“Let her go.”
Sassik.
She snatched her head higher, despite being dragged sideways.
“Who’re you?” yelled her captor.
A blast from Sassik’s long gun smacked into Worat’s prone corpse and the knife bounced free. She looked away, grimacing. Death was ugly.
“I’m the man with a bigger gun than you have, who just shot your boss because he was stealing my slave. Let. Her. Go.”
Her hand was freed and she fled a few steps. Sassik beckoned, his gaze locked to Worat’s man. Panting from the struggle, she walked to him, feeling scared and annoyed, but mainly relieved that she no longer had to deal with this alone.
“Go!” Sassik jerked the purple long gun. Footsteps sounded behind her, fading. “And remember not to fucking steal! Assholes,” he muttered, before he looked at her. “You, girl, are in big trouble. Put this on.” He dug in a pocket and handed her the end of the leash, waited until she’d attached it to her collar before striding off.
She hurried so the leash didn’t jerk on her neck.
“What about –”
“He’s dead. Leave him. The local provosts will deal with it.”
Damn. She followed, heart paining her, migraine threatening. Big trouble was not good.
“Why’d you shoot him?”
“Because I’m allowed to. You, if I left it uncertain, could be executed for murdering a free man.”
“Oh.” Her throat sank to her toes but she managed a whispered, “Thank you.”
Sassik only grunted.