clumsiness.
‘ She couldn’t see Smhee, but she knew that he was snatching the blowpipe from
his sleeve and applying it to his lips. She came up from her bent position, her
sword leaping out of her scabbard, and she ran towards the dog. It bounded
towards her, the guard having released the leash. She got the blade out from the
leather just in time and rammed it into the dog’s open mouth as it sprang
soundlessly towards her throat. The blade drove deep into its throat but she
went backwards from its weight and fell onto the floor.
The sword had been torn from her grip, but the dog was heavy and unmoving on her
chest. She pushed him off though he must have weighed as much as she. She rolled
over and got quickly, but trembling, to her feet. The guard was sitting down,
his back against the wall. One hand clutched the dart stuck in his cheek. His
eyes were open but glazing. In a few seconds the hand fell away. He slumped to
one side, and his bowels moved noisily.
The dog lay with the upper length of the sword sticking from its mouth. His
tongue extended from the jaws, bloody, seeming almost an independent entity, a
stricken worm.
Smhee grabbed the bronze handle of the door.
‘Pray for us, Masha! If he’s barred the door on the inside …!’
The door swung open.
Smhee bounded in, the dead man’s spear in his hands. Masha, following, saw a
large room the air of which was green and reeking of incense. The walls were
covered with tapestries, and the heavy dark furniture was ornately carved with
demons’ heads. They paused to listen and heard nothing except a faint burbling