Shay and the PowerAs soon as she had made her speech, Shay turned around and continued to walk at a brisk clip. She kept her hips still and swung her arms. Walking like a man was very different to walking like a woman. Fortunately, she had grown up around men, and so had never really learned to swing her hips. When it suited her, she could be terribly feminine. She could sashay and flutter her eyelashes with the best of them. However, usually, she walked with little fuss. With the right tilt of her head, and gestures in the right places to distract from her more feminine features, she passed rather fairly as a male. She wouldn't hold up under close scrutiny, but in a bar full of men already drunk in the morning, she'd do just fine.
On that note, if she didn't get there fast, she'd completely blow her routine. She quickened her pace.
Perhaps this was why Kuar's hand never met her collar. She heard his comment, felt him reach out, and stiffened in readiness to give him a good pummeling for taking liberties with her. However, as previously stated, he never made it there. He stopped. Perhaps he thought a bit about what might happen if he touched her. Shay considered a confrontation, but then dismissed the idea. She didn't have time to fight with him again. She was late as it was. After a momentary hesitation, she continued, trying to ignore the tingling in her neck. She reached up, and flipped the collar over, shaking it into a rumpled mess.
Happy? she grunted, and then added,
The bar's coming up. Drop behind me. I'm going in, you're going to continue walking as if we're not together. You'll double back, but wait at least three minutes until coming in behind me. Go find a corner to sit in. Don't be seen. Can you handle that?She didn't wait for an answer. The bar loomed, and she quickened her pace, slipping inside.
She was greeted to a roar of acknowledgements from the bar's early-morning patrons. They were rosy-cheeked and mostly unemployed, so the bar reeked of soil and less pleasant natural odours. The men turned, raising their rapidly-emptied tankards in approval. The men liked Morgan. He was good fun, always lost at cards and, best of all, never failed to buy a round of drinks for everyone.
Morgan didn't let them down that morning. He saluted them, and roared, his voice high and young, but not noticeably so,
A round for every man in the room! Another great bellow went up at that, and while the men were hungrily watching the tavern-keeper, Shay was looking around. She couldn't see her target. That was odd. He never failed to be in the bar, cheating men out of money with his cards and sleight of hand. She frowned, puzzled, and stepped across the threshold.
Three shadows detached themselves from the wall. The bar went quiet. Shay tensed, but before she could spring, a man had her in a chokehold, and two more were pointing weapons at her head. She gasped, wriggling ferociously, but her hands were bound in a heartbeat. They were soon followed by her feet. A piece of cloth was shoved into her mouth and tied behind her head. Shay bit at it, but it was not coming off in a hurry. One of the men held a knife to her temple. The more she struggled, the harder he pressed it into the flesh. She kept trying, until she felt the first few drops of blood sliding down her face. Then she stopped quite abruptly.
She was turned, and came face to face with her target, a very fat, aging Scottish man whose face was marred with an unpleasant sneer.
Almost thought ye had me, didn't ye, lass?Shay started. her eyes widened. They hadn't known. When she'd last been in the bar, they'd had no idea. She'd even skimmed their minds to check.
That could only mean one thing. Somebody had tipped them off, told them exactly what was going on.
Shay gulped.
By the time Kuar arrived, it would be too late.