Damen said, quietly, ‘Look up. If you can climb, we can get out that way.’
‘Wait until they start fucking,’ Laurent said even more softly, the murmured words unheard beyond the curve of Damen’s neck. ‘They’ll be distracted.’
The word fucking sank down into him, even as there was an unmistakable moan from the boy inside the room, ‘There. There—put it in me right there—’ and it was time, beyond time, for them to go—
—and the door to Volo’s room slammed open.
‘They’re in here!’ called an unfamiliar man’s voice.
There was a moment of total confusion, an indignant squawk from the house boy, a shouted protest from Volo, ‘Hey, let go of him!’ the sounds only making sense when Damen realised what might naturally happen to a man who had been sent to apprehend Laurent, and had heard him described, but had never actually seen him.
‘Stay back, old man. It isn’t your business. This is the Prince of Vere.’
‘But—I only paid three coppers for him,’ said Volo, sounding confused.
‘And you should probably put some pants on,’ said the man, adding awkwardly, ‘Your Highness.’
‘What?’ said the boy.
Damen felt Laurent start shaking against him, and realised that, silently, helplessly, he was laughing.
There came the sound of at least two more sets of footsteps striding into the room, greeted with: ‘Here he is. We found him fucking this derelict, disguised as the tavern prostitute.’
‘This is the tavern prostitute. You idiot, the Prince of Vere is so celibate I doubt he even touches himself once every ten years. You. We’re looking for two men. One was a barbarian soldier, a giant animal. The other was blond. Not like this boy. Attractive.’
‘There was a blond lord’s pet downstairs,’ said Volo. ‘Brained like a pea and easy to hoodwink. I don’t think he was the Prince.’
‘I wouldn’t call him blond. More like mousy. And he wasn’t that attractive,’ said the boy, sulkily.
The shaking, progressively, had worsened.
‘Stop enjoying yourself,’ Damen murmured. ‘We’re going to be killed, any minute.’
‘Giant animal,’ said Laurent.
‘Stop it.’
Inside the room: ‘Check the other lodgings. They’re here somewhere.’ The footsteps retreated.
‘Can you give me a boost?’ said Laurent. ‘We need to get off this balcony.’
Damen cupped his hands, and Laurent used them as a stepping stone, pushing himself up to the first handhold.
More lightly built than Damen, but possessing the upper body strength that came with extensive sword practice, Laurent climbed quickly and silently. Damen, turning carefully in the confined space in order to face the wall, soon followed.
It wasn’t a difficult climb, and it was only a minute before he was pulling himself up and onto the roof, the town of Nesson-Eloy splayed out before him, the sky above, a handful of scattered stars. He found himself laughing a little breathlessly, and saw his expression twinned on Laurent’s face. Laurent’s blue eyes were full of mischief.
‘I think we’re safe,’ said Damen. ‘Somehow, no one saw us.’
‘But I told you. It’s the game I like,’ said Laurent, and with the toe of his boot he deliberately pushed a loose roof tile until it slid off the rooftop and shattered in the street below.
‘They’re on the roof!’ came the call from below.
This time, it was a chase. They fled over the rooftops, dodging chimneys. It was half obstacle course, half steeplechase. The tiles beneath their feet appeared and disappeared, opening up into narrow alleyways that must be leaped over. The visibility was poor. The levels were all uneven. They went up one side of a roof slope, and, slipping and sliding, came down the other.
Below, their pursuers ran too, over smooth streets with no loose tiles to threaten a sprain or a fall, flanking them. Laurent sent another roof tile into the street, aimed this time. From below, a yelp of alarm. When they found themselves on another balcony on their way over a narrow street, Damen tipped over a flowerpot. Beside him, Laurent unpinned some hanging laundry and dropped it; they saw the ghostly white entangle someone below and become a writhing shape, before they sped on.
They sprang from rooftop ledge to balcony and onto a crossway across a narrow street. The careening chase across the skyline called on a lifetime of training in Damen, on reflexes, speed and stamina. Laurent, light and agile, kept up. Above them, the sky was lightening. Below them, the town was waking up.