heading back to the palace. It had not occurred to her that he might still be on
the Street until a hand loomed out of the shadows and closed over her mouth. Her
throat tore with an almost soundless shriek and she lashed back with her heels
and fists before hearing a familiar voice.
‘Damn you, bitch! We’ve got him cornered in a loft not a hundred steps from
here.’
She pried Walegrin’s fingers from her face and stood before him, tears streaming
down her cheeks and her whole body trembling.
‘What happened to you?’
‘I… got… hit,’ she said slowly, moving her mouth as little as possible.
‘Did you get the proof?’
She shrugged. Was the ring and his attempt to kill her proof he had killed Bekin
or the Beysib men and women?
‘C’mon, Cythen. He broke out of there like a bull. He didn’t punch you out
’cause you’re ugly -‘
She shook her head and tried to explain what had happened, but her mouth was too
sore for so many words and he could make no sense of her gestures.
‘Well, all right, anyway. Maybe we can pry something out of him now. We think
he’s found a regular hideout behind some of the older Houses.’ Walegrin led the
way off the street to a dark jumble of buildings where two of his men waited.
‘It’s as quiet as a tomb up there,’ the soldier informed his captain; then,
noticing Cythen, added: ‘What happened to you?’
‘She got hit. Don’t ask questions. Now, you’re sure he’s still up there?’
‘There’s only two ways out and he ain’t used either of them.’
‘Okay.’ Walegrin turned back to Cythen. ‘You get him at ally She shook her head