They were also perfect for what Caina had in mind.
She dashed across the street, Azaces a half-step behind her, and pointed.
“There,” she said. “That door. Get…”
Azaces ran to the door, raised his boot, and started kicking. On the third kick the lock splintered free, and the door shuddered open just as the first Immortal emerged from the alley behind them. Azaces pushed through the door, and Caina hurried after him. The entry hall was empty, a thin film of dust covering the floor. The house’s owner had been killed four years earlier during the battle of Marsis, and Caina had learned his heirs were suing each other over possession of the house. She had considered establishing a safe house here, a refuge stocked with supplies and weapons, but had never gotten around to it.
Just as well. The Immortals would butcher anyone who got in their way, but there were no innocent people here for them to kill.
She looked at Azaces. He was breathing hard, but did not look exhausted yet.
“Can you run?” said Caina to Nerina.
“Malcolm,” she whispered. She was crying, tears falling from her eerie blue eyes. “It was him. I swear…”
“Go,” said Caina, and she ran for the stairs at the end of the entry hall.
They got to the third floor by the time the Immortals smashed their way through the door. Memories flashed through Caina’s mind, and she remembered fleeing from the Immortals on the streets of Marsis during Rezir Shahan’s doomed attack, on the night she met Nasser Glasshand, on the night she had fled from Grand Master Callatas’s palace after stealing the journal of the loremaster Annarah.
Gods, but she was sick of running from Immortals.
On the other hand, it had kept her alive, so she shouldn’t complain.
They reached the top floor and Caina looked around, her heart pounding like a drum against her ribs. If she had chosen wrong, they were about to die. But, no, she hadn’t been wrong. The Istarish often spent the cool of the evening upon their rooftops, and whoever had built this house had been no different. A ladder rose against the wall, leading to the roof.
“Azaces,” said Caina. “The roof, quickly.”
Azaces scrambled up the ladder. Caina had never seen anyone climb a ladder while carrying a grown woman over one shoulder, but Azaces did it with aplomb. He scrambled onto the rooftop as Caina heard the boots of the Immortals upon the stairs. She hauled herself up the ladder, rolled onto the roof, and kicked the trapdoor shut behind her. It was thick and heavy, but it would not stop the Immortals for long.
Caina got to her feet, saw Azaces staring at her, the question plain on his scarred face.
“We run,” said Caina. “Can you jump from roof to roof while carrying her?”
Azaces hesitated, then managed a nod.
“No.” Nerina’s voice was a croak. “No, he can’t. The amount of force he can generate is insufficient to bear our combined mass over the alleyways. But…I can run. I can run. Put me down.” Azaces lowered Nerina to her feet, and she wavered as she regained her balance. “Oh, I am a fool, Ciara. I’ve gotten us all killed, haven’t I?”
“Probably,” said Caina, grabbing Nerina’s arm and urging her forward. “Shut up and run.”
They sprinted to the edge of the roof and jumped, making for the next house. Nerina wobbled a bit, but she made the jump. A crash filled Caina’s ears, and she saw the Immortals haul themselves out of the trapdoor and onto the roof.
“Oh,” said Nerina in a small voice, her eerie eyes wide. “I calculate that we cannot outrun them.”
“No,” said Caina, looking around.
Azaces drew his two-handed scimitar, the steel flashing in the morning sunlight.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” said Nerina. “But it was Malcolm, I swear it was Malcolm. He was with the slaves, I am mathematically certain of it. I…”
“Quiet,” said Caina, yanking one of the throwing knives from her sleeve and gripping the blade between her fingers. It wouldn’t help much. She was very good with throwing knives, but the Immortals were armored from head to foot, and hitting one of their unarmored spots would be difficult.
“Why did we go to the roof?” said Nerina.
“Because,” said Caina. “No one ever looks up.”
Nerina blinked. “The Immortals did.”
Five of them advanced across the roof of the abandoned house.
“Aye,” said Caina, looking at the street below, “no one ever looks up…unless they’ve been warned.”