"Why should they harm you? They're after me."
"They will." He felt her shaking against him. "They will, that's their way—oh!"
The door shuddered as a heavy weight was flung against it. "That's they," snarled Alfric. "And the bolt won't hold very long. I'd like to stay and fight, but—Come!" He grabbed his cloak off the floor and buckled it across Freha's slim naked shoulders. "I'll go first—then you jump."
He balanced on the window-sill, then leaped. Even as he fell, he wondered at the agility of the slaves who had crawled up the wall. It was of roughset stones, but even so—
He hit the muck and cobblestones of the alley with the silent poise of a jaccur, and turned up to the window. It was just above the pit-black shadows, a square of darkness in the moon-whitened wall. "Come!" he called softly.
Freha's body gleamed briefly in the moonlight as she sprang. He caught her in his arms, set her down, and drew his sword. "Let's go," he growled. Then suddenly: "But where? Will the city guards protect us?"
"Some might," she answered shakily, "but most are controlled by fear of the Temple's curse. Best we go toward the palace. The Emperor's Household troops are loyal to him and hate the priesthood which seeks to usurp his power."
"We can head that way," he nodded, "meanwhile looking for a place to hide." He took her hand and they trotted through the thick darkness toward the dim light marking the end of the alley.
Other feet padded in the gloom. Alfric snarled soundlessly and pulled himself and the girl against a wall. He was almost blind in the dark, but he strained his ears, pointing them this way and that in search of the enemy.
The others had also stopped moving. They would be waiting for him to stir, and their own motionlessness could surely outlast the girl's—anyway, the pursuit from the room would be after him in another moment, when the door gave way—