Far below, the shouts and curses of Bor Legat's men still echoed.
But Jarl paid them no heed. He had eyes only for the flat-topped llorin dwelling that crowded next to this structure in which he had found temporary haven.
The llorin-pile's roof rose to within short feet of the window. Beyond it lay another; then a Fantay spire....
Again he said, "Come on!" and levered open the window.
New agitation gleamed in Sais' eyes, but she moved forward, wordless.
Cat-like, Jarl dropped to the llorin roof. After a moment's hesitation, Sais followed.
Silent, nerves raw with tension, they picked a path along the beams to the next building and crossed to it.
Here even the beams were rotten, sagging. Testing with his foot at each step, Jarl led the way around the outer wall to the spire beyond.
Even at its lowest point, the edge of the Fantay peak was feet above Jarl's head, across a yawning two-foot gap that plunged chasm-like to the ground so far below.
Bleakly, Jarl studied it; measured the distance with his eye. "Up, Sais...." He lifted her; tottered precariously against the rim of coping while, whole body atremble, she balanced on his broad shoulders.