Snippet #1463847

Either because of the commotion, or because he looked like a harmless blubbering idiot, it was easy for Blem to get back to the table unaccosted. He paused, his courage gone now that he realized he had over-estimated his plan. What was Blem going to do? Conk a gambler with a chair? He didn’t know where to hit someone to knock them out. And even if, big if, he was lucky enough to knock one out, he remembered that the other would be more than a match for him.

He wavered, and reached for the chair anyway. By a stroke of luck, an armed soldier got in his way, back to Blem. Ready to improvise a plan that seemed much safer, Blem shoved the man hard. It worked. Blem couldn’t believe his luck:

“Hey, watch it!” said one of the Carmainians over the upturned table. Coins, mugs, and the sword, scattered across the floor. “Pick that up.”

His blood half-ale, the guard couldn’t seem to decide whether to turn around and see who pushed him, or to unleash his aggression onto this rude gambler. The decision didn’t take long. “Don’t you tell me what to do, wastrel.”

Blem slipped around the ensuing scrap, and grabbed his rapier, as well as a handful of coins as a reward. He glanced to the door, and again, he faltered. He hadn’t thought for a moment that fanning the flames of this brawl would have any consequences, but now there was blood everywhere, and the man he had hit with a mug was severely wounded. Blem’s heart broke; he wasn’t sure what kind of man he wanted to be, but today had shown him what sort of person he could become. It was small wonder, he thought, that he had been ejected from the clergy.

As he had been moved by anger, now he was moved by pity. Unable to control himself, and silently cursing himself, Blem sneaked his way behind the soldiers cornering Cailen. The swordsman was warned by his comrades, but far too late. Blem’s rapier burst out of the swordsman’s chest, and the soldier’s body slid cleanly to the floor.

“I’m sorry for hitting you with the ale,” he said, his trembling voice full of false bravado, “but I’ll get you out of here alive.”

As more soldiers closed in, Blem’s only thought was of how great his last words were.