let him down.
Discreetly, Jesper consulted his watch as they made their way toward the chapels at the end of the thumb. At four bells, Inej would be waiting atop the orange chapel’s dome to lower down his rifle.
“Oh,” Jesper groaned, hoping the guard would pick up his pace. “I’m not sure I’m going to make it.”
The guard made a small sound of disgust and lengthened his strides. “What did you order, buddy?”
“The special.”
“Never order the special. They just reheat whatever they had left over from the day before.” They arrived at the chapel and the guard said, “I’ll let you through this door. There’s a coffeehouse across the way.”
“Thanks,” said Jesper, and looped his arm around the guard’s neck, applying pressure until his body went limp. Jesper slipped the leather strips from around his wrists, secured the guard’s hands behind his back, and stuffed the kerchief from his neck into the guard’s mouth. Then he rolled the body behind the altar. “Sleep well,” Jesper said. He felt bad for the guy. Not bad enough to wake him up and untie him, but still.
He heard a boom from the cathedral and glanced down the length of the nave. Because the thumb of the church was built at a slightly higher level than the cathedral, all he could see were the tops of the heads of the audience’s back rows, but it sounded like the Tides were making quite a ruckus. Jesper checked his watch once more and headed up the stairs.
A hand seized hold of his collar and hurled him backward.
He hit the floor of the chapel hard, the wind knocked completely out of him. His attacker stood at the base of the stairs, looking down at him with golden eyes.
His clothes were different from when Jesper had seen him exit the House of the White Rose on West Stave. Now the Kherguud soldier wore an olive drab uniform over his vast shoulders. His buttons gleamed and his black hair had been pulled back in a tight tail, revealing a neck as thick as a ham. He looked like what he truly was—a weapon.
“Glad you dressed for the occasion,” Jesper gasped, still trying to regain his breath.
The Shu soldier inhaled deeply, nostrils flaring, and smiled.
Jesper scrambled backward. The soldier followed. Jesper cursed himself for not taking the stadwatch grunt’s gun. The little pistol was no good for distance shooting, but it would have been better than nothing with a giant staring him down.
He leapt to his feet and sprinted back down the nave. If he could make it to the cathedral … he might have some explaining to do. But the Shu soldier wouldn’t attack him in the middle of the auction. Would he?
Jesper wasn’t going to find out. The soldier slammed into him from behind, dragging him to the ground. The cathedral seemed impossibly far away, the clamor from the auction and the Council of Tides a distant echo bouncing off the high stone walls. Action and echo , he thought nonsensically as the soldier flipped him over.
Jesper wriggled like a fish, evading the big man’s grip, grateful he was built like a heron on a strict diet. He was on his feet again, but the soldier was fast despite his size. He flung Jesper against the wall and Jesper released a yelp of pain, wondering if he’d broken a rib. It’s good for you. Jogs the liver.
He couldn’t think straight with this oaf manhandling him.
Jesper saw the giant’s fist draw back, the gleam of metal on his fingers. They gave him real brass knuckles , he realized in horror. They built them into his hand.
He ducked left just in time. The soldier’s fist struck the wall beside his head with a thunderous crack.
“Slippery,” said the soldier in heavily accented Kerch. Again he inhaled deeply.
He caught my scent , Jesper thought. That day on the Stave. He doesn’t care that he might be found by the stadwatch, he’s been hunting and now he’s found his quarry.
The soldier drew his fist back again. He was going to knock Jesper senseless and then … what? Bash down the chapel door and carry him along the street like a sack of grain? Hand him off to one of his winged companions?
At least I’ll never be able to disappoint anyone again. They would dose him full of parem . Maybe he’d live long enough to make the Shu a new batch of Kherguud.
He dodged right. The soldier’s fist pounded another crater into the church