There was definite movement there, a darker shadow among the shadows, a blurred shape against the window. Bradan distinctly heard the slither of feet on the ground. For a moment, he wondered if he should lie still; if the intruder was an assassin, then Dhraji thoroughly deserved death. He considered quickly; if he remained still and did nothing, and the assassin, if it was an assassin, killed the Rani, what was the possibility of survival?
Not high.
Remember what had happened to the completely innocent arch builders.
Think of Melcorka. Stay alive, whatever it takes.
'That's far enough!' Bradan rose from the bed, wishing desperately that he had a weapon. Even his old rowan-wood staff would do. As it was, he had only his hands, feet and voice.
The shadow solidified and rose, and Bradan
