Perfect Shadows

chapter 34

A hand shot from the shadows pooling the narrow street, grasping my ankle and nearly tripping me. I jerked away, kicking once at the prostrate form before I realized that the man was begging. I reached into the shadow and hauled the beggar into the moonlight to have a look at him. The man was small and ragged, and from the smell of him, drunk as well as dirty. The head tilted back as he raised his uncaring eyes, and I gasped as I recognized him: Thomas Nashe. I dragged him, half-conscious, to the inn where I had left my horse, and rode on to Chelsey with my unfortunate former colleague slung over and tied like a meal-sack to the saddle of a hired packhorse.