Lack shrugged, unperturbed. “There’s a few more of us, here and there. And maybe youcouldcut us all down—not that I’d prefer that, of course. Partial to my own throat, you see! Let me make an observation, though. You might not think the Madrigal isperceptive, but I can assure you, sir, that she ispersistent.”
Fennus raised the point of his sword, his arm steady as he angled it toward Lack’s throat. He paused there for a moment, considering.
Then he sighed, and with a swift motion, sprang toward the left-hand wall, catching it with one booted foot and springing toward the opposite side of the narrow alley, arcing higher and higher with each sideways leap, until he caught an eave with one delicate hand and flipped up onto the roof.
He shook out his cloak in annoyance, tossed back his hood, and sheathed the blade, striding nimbly up the tiles to the peak. He heard a commotion in the streets below, the Madrigal’s men circling the building, watching for him to move to an adjoining rooftop or to descend.
There was no easy way for them to pursue him, so Fennus took his time, gazing across the icy cityscape toward the docks and the mast of the ship he’d be catching within the hour.
This was all a minor inconvenience, at best. It really was pitiful. The whole business did nothing to improve his mood, however.
Then he heard a heavy impact and a clatter of tile behind him, followed by a rising, throaty rumble, like an oncoming avalanche.
He whirled to face an enormous, sooty creature, its fur bristling, its fangs huge, green eyes alive with liquid malice.
He had only a final sliver of a second to think, incredulously,Is that the gods-damnedcat?
Amity leapt.
