Zip was at his side before he had the torch pulled from the wall.
“Forking, loud fools,” he snarled.
“Maybe we should give up our respective trades and build walls or unload barges for a living,” Walegrin mused.
“Listen to them. They must be halfway into the square and you can still hear them! They’ll get eaten alive.”
The garrison commander raised one eyebrow. “Not while they’re traveling in packs like that,” he challenged. “You backed off quick enough.”
And Zip stood silent. There were big men in Sanctuary. Tempus was about the biggest; Walegrin and his brother-in-law, Dubro, weren’t exactly small-boned either. But, save for the Stepsons, the newcomers were the biggest, best-fed men
Sanctuary had seen in a generation or more. Even if they were only common laborers, another man-a native man like Zip -would have to think seriously before bothering them.
“They’re ruining the town,” the PFLS leader said finally.
“Because they work for their bread? Because they pay fairly for what they need and save to bring their families here to live with them?” Masha interjected. “I thought you were bringing me down here to see a woman.”
With a half-glance back toward the square, where the newcomers were still singing. Zip grabbed the torch from Wale-grin’s hands and plunged into the
Shambles backways.
The safe-house was ominously quiet as Zip doused the torch and led the way to the deeply shadowed stairway. He stopped short in the doorway to the upper room;
Walegrin bumped into him. The girl was still lying in the comer silent and motionless. Her young lover squatted beside her, his face shiny with unmanly tears. The garrison commander scarcely noticed as Masha shoved him aside. Her movements did not interrupt the invective he privately directed to such gods and goddesses as should have taken a care in these matters. Like many fighting men,