Chapter five
Of Lon’s Fine FeathersSilda toppled forward into blackness and slid herself forward over worn cobbles. A single tap from a knife hilt wielded by a scrawny runt like this specimen wasn’t going to knock her out. Her head donged a trifle, as though the famous bells of Beng Kishi tolled muffled.
Her onward movement stripped the tangling rope away from her arm.
This situation was very familiar indeed from her years of training at Lancival. There they taught their girls how to take care of themselves.
The men were already arguing fiercely among themselves.
“Grab her, you great hulu!”
“Git outta the way!”
“Can’t see a thing—”
“That’s my foot!”
A rough hand raked along the cobbles after Silda’s boot.
Obligingly, she rolled over onto her back, peering back to see the silhouet
