Master of the World by Edward Willett

Author:Edward Willett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: DAW
Published: 2019-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

RUNNING FULL TILT at midnight down pitch-black alleys in an unfamiliar city with sketchy ideas of trash removal is an . . . interesting . . . experience. I tripped over something within twenty feet and would have fallen headlong if Anthony hadn’t held me up. Clearly, running wasn’t conducive to long-term good health, but neither was stopping. We’d only run fifty paces before the gate banged open behind us and footsteps raced after us.

The next thing I tripped over sat up, swearing. I sensed rather than saw whoever it was reach for me, but I kicked, and he swore some more, and then we were past him. “Hey!” he bellowed after us, not very originally. Then our pursuers must have tripped over him, too, because I heard a lot more swearing, and what sounded like a fist meeting flesh, and a moan. It sounded like our pursuers hadn’t been gentle about removing the obstacle from their path, but maybe it had bought us a few strides.

I banged my shoulder against a rough stone wall, then the alley took a sharp turn to the right. We rounded the corner. Gaslight glowed ahead of us—one of the major streets. We charged forward . . .

. . . but then I tripped, and crashed into Anthony, and both of us went down into a puddle of I-didn’t-want-to-know-what. I got to my hands and knees, scrambled to my feet, turned to help Anthony up—and stopped, because, in the light spilling from that gaslit street, now at my back, I could see the shadowy figures of two men, presumably the ones we had seen silhouetted in the inn’s back door, walking toward us, pistols drawn.

Anthony had only made it to one knee. He’d fallen on his back, so he was already looking at the approaching men. His own pistol was still in his hand, but he very carefully did not raise it.

“There’s the woman,” said the man on my right. I could see now they were dressed pretty much the same as we were, in the drab clothes favored by the locals, but I didn’t recognize either. They weren’t part of my escort. “Think it’s her?”

“Don’t know,” said the man on my left. “Who are you?” he said to me.

“Who are you?” I demanded, rather than answer.

“We surrender,” said Anthony. He dropped his pistol and raised his hands. Reluctantly, I followed suit.

“Orders?” said the first man to the second.

“Kill every man,” said the second. “If we find a woman, take her to the boss.”

I’ve watched a lot of movies, read a lot of adventure stories. I know when someone says something like, “Kill him, keep her,” you’re supposed to scream out, “Wait!” and those threatening you will change their minds and take you to their leader and conveniently make it possible for both of you to escape in order to continue your adventures.

I screamed, “Wait!”

The man on the left fired.

The pistol flash stabbed my dark-adapted eyes. The sound wasn’t as loud as when Anthony had shot the colonel over my shoulder, but my ears rang just the same.

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