J. F. Rivkin - Silverglass 03 by Witch Of Rhostshyl

Author:Witch Of Rhostshyl [Rhostshyl, Witch Of]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2011-04-28T10:17:36+00:00

16

a heavily knotted rope-end thudded to the ground at Nyctasia’s feet, and a voice from overhead said urgently, “Catch hold, hurry! There are more of them coming.”

Perhaps the most important lesson Nyctasia had learned from Corson was that there were times when action, not thought, was called for. This, unquestionably, was one of those times. She grabbed hold and began to climb.

The rope was drawn upward, and for a moment she found herself face to face with a stag with silver antlers—a sight that nearly made her fall. But then the masked acrobat dropped to the ground, landing on his feet in a practiced crouch.

“Here, I’ll give you a boost,” he said. Taking Nyctasia by the ankles, he half-lifted, half-tossed her up to where the rope-dancer, hanging by her knees from a carved waterspout, could catch hold of her arms. For a small woman, she was surprisingly strong. She quickly pulled Nyctasia up to a ledge, somehow righted herself, and clambered over the parapet, dragging Nyctasia after her.

While Nyctasia lay hidden behind the stone battlement, the rope-dancer leaned over the crenellated wall, looking down into the alley. A moment later, Nyctasia heard her call, “They went down that way—a woman and a boy—”

“We saw them from up there,” the other acrobat said excitedly. “Follow me, you might still catch them.”

When the sound of running footsteps receded, the rope-dancer helped Nyctasia to her feet, and for the first time she had a good look at her rescuer. Like her confederate, she too was disguised, but her mask was painted directly onto her face, so as not to hinder her vision when she was doing her daring aerial tricks. A lacy pattern of green leaves and white blossoms adorned her dark skin, as if she were spying out from behind a screen of flowering vines, and her close-fitting leggings and vest were embroidered with the same design. It was impossible to discern what she really looked like.

She grinned, returning Nyctasia’s scrutiny. “I’m Ashe,” she offered, “and that was Auval who ran off just now. He’ll lead them a merry chase.” She spoke with an accent Nyctasia did not recognize.

“But they’ll suspect you,” Nyctasia worried. “That guard—”

“Not a bit of it. Auval will tell them we saw the lad attack her from behind, while you fought with her. He knocked her off her feet, and she hit her head on that fallen stonework. See for yourself.”

The woman’s body had been moved so that she lay on her face near the bloody masonry. Nyctasia looked down at her, then turned away. “Come,” said Ashe, “we’d best not stand about here.” Nyctasia followed her along the narrow stone walkway to the twisting stairs that led to the roof.

“They’ll not suppose we had anything to do with it,” Ashe continued cheerfully.

“We’d nothing to gain by it, had we?”

“No, nothing. But you’d plenty to lose. Why in the vahn’s name did you take such a risk?”

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