didn't seem terribly interested in my opinions. Only at the last possible instant did he decide to acquiesce, and we clattered round the corner. I nearly sobbed with relief when no one appeared to block our way.
Then my brain caught up with the sounds behind me.
What I'd thought was one set of hooves, the one beneath me, was actually more like half a dozen. Now that I realised, I could make out their individual tattoos upon the cobblestones. It could only be the rest of Mounteban's bodyguard. They weren't on us yet, but they were close and gaining.
I was no kind of horseman. I'd never have made it this far if my mount didn't have an agenda of his own. Whatever slim advantage I'd gained was about to vanish. Maybe I'd changed the rules of the chase, but they were no less stacked against me.
Nearing the end of our current road and left to its own devices, my horse made a beeline for an alley that cut towards the Market District. I approved in theory — except that this particular alley was chiselled through two buildings, its ceiling so low that a man could barely pass without crouching…
'Not that wa-'
Just in time, I realised ducking would serve better than arguing. I bent double over the horse's neck, as timber beams scuffed my hair. The too-close walls shrieked by. We broke back into open air, and another wider passage. This one ended in a ninety-degree turn — which my horse chose to ignore. He ran straight towards the wall. Only when it seemed far too late did he skid to a halt, neighing manically, as though the obstruction was some completely unpredictable impediment that had appeared to vex him.
I yanked hard on the reins, trying to tilt his head towards the turn. Eventually, he understood. He set off again, barely slower than before.
The next turn deposited us somewhere familiar, the main thoroughfare of the Market District, which ran west from the docks towards the palace. From behind, I could hear the pursuing riders navigating the alleys. Our lead was rapidly diminishing. I couldn't carry on like this. My horse was no less determined to kill me than the men closing upon us.
I had to get off the streets.
But where could I go? The gates were barred. Even if I could make it to Franco's, he'd turn me in the first chance he got, and there was no way I was chancing the sewer again. Better death than that. Alvantes should still be waiting beneath the Sabre, but it would be guarded and barricaded, and if they had any sense they'd have upped the guards manning the dockside too. What did that leave?
On any other night, nothing.
Tonight, however, I had a brand-new length of rope.
Maybe the walls would be crawling with men. More likely, they'd have been drawn into the hunt. To anyone without a new rope, the ramparts were too high to offer an escape route, just as the city was too cramped for them to offer any useful vantage in my pursuit. Anyway, what choice did I have? I could rationalise all night — or for the seconds it would take someone to catch and murder me — but there were no other options. A slim chance was better than none.
My best hope lay in taking the fastest route, regardless of where it brought me out. I drew my horse round, spurring him with a sharp dig of my heels, and we shot off westward through the Lower Market District.
From behind came the clamour of our pursuers joining the main road. By then, we were passing beneath the arch that joined Lower and Upper Market districts, into the luxurious stretch of shops reserved for the Altapasaedan rich. Ahead, a patrol of four men burst from a narrow sideway. My horse, with his usual indifference to obstructions, made no effort to avoid them. In the fraction of a second they had to judge the situation, they made the right decision. We left them sprawling in the street. The subsequent cries told me they'd proved more of a hindrance to our pursuers than they had to us.
Another grand arch brought us out at the curved junction where Market and Temple districts met. I edged the horse right, to keep our westerly course. To either side, lights burned with bright chemical blues and greens, casting brief, wild shadows of our passage. In cages above, vividly plumed birds screamed their outrage. I was glad I held no belief in the northerner gods; riding at full pelt through their mundane home was sure to be all kinds of blasphemy.
On we went, into the great square around the palace. I had just time to notice how the ornate palace gates had been caved in before we were past. My single-minded horse was in his element in so open a space. I didn't think our followers had gained at all. Now the walls were in sight — and sure enough, no one was visible upon their crest.
However, nothing lay beyond the walls at this point but the ragged highway we'd travelled the night be fore. I'd barely be safer out there than I was in here. Fortunately, this road ran almost the entire inner circumference of Altapasaeda. I didn't want to push my luck much further, but I let the horse continue, until I thought we must be near the outskirts of the Suburbs. Only then did I guide him towards one of the intermittent sets of steps that led upward.
I wasn't sure he'd stop when I reined in. He did, though so suddenly I almost tumbled over his head. I swung giddily to the ground. 'Good horse,' I mumbled. 'Fine, brave horse.'
He bared his teeth and looked as though he'd like to chew my face off.
'Mad, vicious horse,' I amended, and flung myself up the stairs.
At the summit, I glanced back — just as four riders swung into view below. Only four? Mounteban had six bodyguards. Discounting the one I'd left bleeding in the South Bank, that still made five.
Then I realised who was missing, and a shiver danced up my spine.
It was Synza. Synza the assassin.
With an effort, I pushed the thought from my mind. All I had time to worry about was getting off these walls. At the head of the stairs, the walkway was cut short by a squat tower. I tried the door, was a little surprised when it opened. Inside were a tiny desk, a stove and a ladder leading to a trapdoor in the ceiling. I hurried to slam and bolt the door, and darted to secure the opposite entrance as well.
I'd bought myself a little breathing space. But lock ing myself in a tower was a temporary fix at best. I started up the ladder, shoved through the hatch and dragged myself onto the platform there. I pulled out my rope and looped it round a merlon of the battlement, securing it with the grapnel hook.
I had my escape route. Now I just needed the nerve to use it.
It was pure instinct that drew my eyes left and down to the wall walk — the instinct of the rabbit that realises, too late, how the hawk is plummeting towards it. There stood Synza, his face a mask of perfect calm. One delicate hand was raised to his ear, as though he were straining to hear some subtle note.
Then I saw the glint of metal there. His hand flicked forward, unimaginably fast.
I threw myself sideways. Heat seared a line across the side of my head. I kept moving, flung myself at the battlements, half climbed, half tumbled over. My grasping fingers found the rope, just in time to save me from a helpless fall. I wrapped my free hand round the first, let myself slide.
Immediately, fire blossomed in my palm. Why hadn't I bought gloves? I knew dimly that without them, there was no quick way down a rope. But panic was driving me. At any moment, Synza might lean out to finish me.
The pain in my chafed fingers, suddenly, was more than I could bear.
I couldn't stop. I couldn't hold on.
I let go.
CHAPTER FOUR
Anywhere else, I'd have died a messy death.
As it was, the roof I landed on tore like wet paper. I couldn't say it broke my fall, exactly, but at least it didn't break my spine.
The same couldn't be said for the next stop in my downwards journey. The ground was just as hard in the Suburbs as anywhere else. Agony jolted my body and blasted the air from my lungs. I lay struggling for breath, not daring to move so much as a finger lest I find it hopelessly mangled. I felt like a fleshy sack of sharpened rocks and pain.
Then I remembered Synza. Synza the master-assassin. Synza the solver of problems that needed to stay
