straight between.
Here too the parchment was suspended by cords, though in a pergola of yellow
marble, whose circular stairs led down to the meadow. He imagined a sikkintair
would find the passage tricky, especially if it was burdened with two women in
its claws. The monster had probably hugged them close to it, come in at high
speed, folded its wings, and glided between the pillars of the dome and the
margins of the gate. On the outbound trip, it must have crawled through into
Sanctuary.
All this Cappen did and thought in half a dozen heartbeats. A shout yanked his
attention back. Three men who had been idling on the stairs had noticed the
advent and were on their way up. Large and hard-featured, they bore the shaven
visages, high-crested morions, gilt cuirasses, black tunics and boots, short
swords, and halberds of temple guards. ‘Who in the Unholy’s name are you?’
called the first. ‘What’re you doing here?’
Jamie’s qualms vanished under a tide of boyish glee. ‘I doubt they’ll believe
any words of ours,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to convince them a different way. If
you can handle him on our left, I’ll take his feres.’ Cappen felt less
confident. But he lacked time to be afraid; shuddering would have to be done
in a more convenient hour. Besides, he was quite a good fencer. He dashed
across the floor and down the stair.
The trouble was, he had no experience with spears. He jabbed. The halberdier
held his weapon, both hands close together, near the middle of the shaft. He
snapped it against Cappen’s, deflected the thrust, and nearly tore the