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There were figures on either side and slightly ahead of Rodin. Twelve in total. They fanned out, blocking his path.
He recognised five of them. They were directly ahead, the tall man forming a central point. They would be armed, and would know how to fight. The others looked like hired hands.
He felt his own tools. From this distance he could use his throwing blades and probably remove four before the others realised what was happening. He could capitalise on that surprise to attack the others.
Twelve to one. He’d beaten those odds before, but only when the mob had been untrained. Even then it had been hard work.
Twelve to one.And Rodin was injured. He could not rely on his left shoulder, and his whole body ached. He had not eaten for too long, and was weak.
Those around h
