bedside table flew past him and shattered against someone’s skull. Men caromed
into each other swearing as Gilla groped forward. There was no sound from their
neighbors-he had not really expected it-they would ask their questions when
morning came.
“In Vashanka’s name, somebody silence the sow!” In the half-light a drawn sword
gleamed dimly.
“No!” he croaked, gasped in air and cried out, “Gilla, stop fighting-there are
too many-Gilla, please!”
There was a final convulsion, then silence. Flint rasped steel and a little
light sparked into life. Gilla lay sprawled like a fallen monument. For a moment
Lalo felt as if a great hand had closed on his chest. Then there was movement in
the tangle of limbs. Gilla rolled over and levered herself to her feet without
spending a glance on the man who had cushioned her fall.
“Savankala save me, she’s squashed me flat . . . Sir, help me-don’t leave me
here….”
Sir? But the man on the floor was a Hell-Hound-Lalo recognized him now.
“I don’t understand…”he said aloud, and as he turned the light was quenched
and he blinked at darkness again.
“Carry him,” said a deep voice. “And you, woman, be still if you want to see him
whole again.”
Sick from the blow and aching from rough handling, Lalo did not resist as they
shoved his sandals onto his feet and thrust an old smock over his head and
marched him along the empty streets back to the Palace. But instead of rounding
the outer wall to the dungeons, as Lalo had dismally expected, they hustled him
through the Palace Gate and along the side of the building and down a little