Lyn Stone - The Quest

Together they struggled to drag the man toward the window that opened to the back of the building. With the greatest of effort, they managed to get his upper half through the opening, then tumbled him out and watched him land upon the ground between the inn and the stables.

“Do you think anyone will guess we threw him out this window?” she asked in a whisper. “What of the stable lad?”

“Busy inside there with our mounts. There’s no one about to have seen us do it,” Ev assured her. “Likely whoever discovers him will believe he was accosted down there in the back dooryard.”

Iana stared down at the man for some time to see whether she might have been mistaken and he would bestir himself after all. When he did not, she finally turned away.

Everand was grunting, diligently trying to prop the door back into place, so she went to assist him. Together, they got it upright within the opening, though they had no way now to secure it. At least it would afford them a bit of privacy. If anyone else came along, they would stop and scratch or knock, instead of walking right into the chamber.

“What of the blood on the outside of the door?” she asked, wringing her hands to keep them from shaking.

Ev patted her arm. “Do not worry. There was little on it. He mostly bled when I took out the knife. There by the window where we lifted him is the worst of it.”

“I will take care of it,” Iana declared, gathering up her scattered wits and berating herself for her weakness. If a mere lad could deal with all this, then so could she.

She unpacked the remainder of the rags she had brought for use as bandages, and wiped up as much of the gore as she could. So stained the raw wood was after many years of occupancy and abuse, the smears left were hardly noticeable.

Amazingly, wee Tam had slept through the entire incident. All in all, Iana felt things had worked out much better than they might have done. They had given a right good account of themselves, she and Everand, and Iana decided not to bemoan the fact that the cursed lout had met his end here. Had they not been successful, they might be the ones lying dead.

“The chamber pot was a fine idea, Ev,” she told him, her voice less steady than she would have liked.

“It was, was it not?” he acknowledged pridefully.

“Aye, I admit I was not quick enough to consider it. And your aim with the blade was true as a marksman’s arrow. I commend you.”

“Resourceful, that is what Sir Henri says I am.” He shrugged as he helped her pick up the pieces of broken crockery that littered the floor. They tossed the shards onto the small blanket she had spread upon the floor to collect them. “He always says that about me.”

Iana sighed, feeling rather numb now that her heart had stopped hammering so hard. “Does he ever mention humility, by any chance?”

Ev cocked his head, thought a moment, then shook it. “Not that I have ever heard.”

She could believe that rightly enough. Finished with their task, they gathered up the ends of the blanket and carried it to the window. No sooner had they tossed out its contents than they heard a loud knocking.

Suddenly the door fell flat into the room with a bang.

Iana jumped clear off the floor and Ev cried out a warning.

Henri stood in the opening, fist raised and mouth agape as he stared down at the unhinged panel of boards.

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