Enemy of My Enemy

Chapter Twenty-One - Strings

She was, in short, someone he wanted to be with.

Foolishness, Gisborne. Weakness. They're lepers, all of them.

Guy gripped the stem of the empty goblet, sorely tempted to smash that too. That voice – and how he loathed it! - was right about one thing. He shouldn't be having such thoughts, not now; he should be focussing on the tasks ahead. Fruitless, now, when all would end here, one way or another, tonight. He bowed his head, acknowledging that the outlines of a fragile hope for his future – born, against his better judgment, from the hours and days he'd spent in Meg's company – now whispered away, dying.

But there was one thing he could do – and should be doing. Guy shoved to his feet. Vaisey had gone out, and none of Nasir's men were about, all of which meant that he was free to visit Salah ve Bazri St and tell the outlaws that it would be tonight. Perhaps, then, they would find some way to let Robin know.

Gathering his jacket and his wits, Guy left the house. He'd not gone far up the street when he became aware that someone was following him. He took the next corner and then swung back to confront them. The lad yelped at his drawn sword; Guy sheathed it, recognising the boy who'd spied on Bassam's house for him.

"What is it?" Guy demanded. "What do you want?"

"Your friend...." the lad mimed dangling fingers, "he said follow lady."

"You saw them? When? Where did they go?"

The boy didn't reply. Perhaps he didn't understand; but then Guy noticed the upturned palm. A transaction, of course, like any other. He produced a coin.

"Show. Is easy," said his young guide.

Guy followed the boy through turn after turn, along twisting alleys that toyed with his sense of direction. When at last he stopped, they'd reached a small dwelling near a section of wall still standing, its face to the street showing as little as any other. But still wary of being seen, Guy tugged the boy back out of sight.

"They're here?" He felt a foolish surge of hope; it couldn't be this easy.

It wasn't.

"Here for night. With sun, horses come. They leave."

"Which way?"

The boy shrugged.

"Gate, near."

He pointed and, glancing at the lowering angle of the sun, Guy guessed they'd taken the St Lazarus Gate out of the city. North, then.

"What town is that way?"

The boy gazed back at him, lifting a laconic shoulder. Sighing, Guy proffered another coin, but the boy shook his head.

"Take it. House with the blue door, show me." He pointed to himself.

Still a blank look. Losing patience, Guy drew his sword –

"Look," he snapped, grabbing his arm as the boy flinched back and would have flown.

With his blade-point, Guy drew in the dust the symbol the boy had left the day the outlaws came. The lad's face brightened. Quicker than a dust-devil he swirled and would have been gone if Guy hadn't hastened after him, only managing on the third try to slam his sword into its scabbard as he ran.

Perhaps the pigeon-handler could shed some light on where her abductors might have taken Meg.

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