Page 101 of The Endless War

Keris ran.

Leaping over the divans in his path, he slipped on the wet tile and nearly fell. Catching his balance, he raced to the front door, the glass cracking beneath the impact of his palms as he slammed it open. Slush splashed his legs as he ran into the street, towel clutched in his hand.

It was madness.

People were screaming and running away, but from both ends of the street, soldiers on horseback approached.

He was trapped.

SHE WAS GOINGto kill him.

Wrapped in a robe and staring at her steaming tea, Zarrah did her best to focus on the wrinkled matrons conversing next to her, but her mind kept going to Keris.

This had beenhisidea. His stupid bloody plan to sit in the bath and listen to gossip, but while she’d spent the past hour soaking in a tub, listening to women complain about her aunt’s soldiers while their husbands pretended not to stare at her breasts, Keris was nowhere to be seen.

What if something happened to him?fear whispered, but she just made a face and swallowed the rest of her tea. The only thing that had happened was that, as usual, he’d changed the plan with no mind to keeping her informed. He was probably in a bar somewhere, plying customers with drinks to gain information, which he’d subsequently deliver to her as though questioning drunks had been his idea, not hers.

“I’m going to kill him,” she said, aloud this time, garnering a few startled glances from other patrons. A heartbeat later, there was a commotion at the entrance to the bathhouse.

Keris, naked as the day he was born and gripping a towel in one hand, sprinted around the corner.

Sliding to a stop, he scanned the steam-filled room until his eyes latched on hers. “Run!” he shouted; then angry bellows shattered the silence.

Zarrah had barely made it to her feet when Keris had her by the hand and was dragging her to the rear of the building. “Another way out?” he shouted at one of the girls who worked there. With wide eyes, she pointed to a door.

Then they were running.

“What is going on?” Zarrah demanded, cold biting her skin as they flew out the back door. “Where were you?”

“Later,” he gasped.

Slush splashed her legs, her robe flapping as they ran, the shouts of pursuit loud, but she didn’t turn back. Weaponless, their only option was flight, and given Keris was naked and she was nearly so, they needed to get out of sight.

People gaped at them as they raced past, the clatter of horses’ hooves deafening as soldiers converged. “What did you do?” she demanded. “What the hell did you do, Keris?”

He didn’t answer, only tightened his grip on her hand. “We need to climb. Get to the rooftops.”

“You can’t!” She risked a sideways glance at him. His unbandaged wound was starting to seep blood. He might be able to get onto a rooftop, but not cross them with the speed it would take to evade capture.

“I’ll have to.”

A door swung open ahead of them, and a woman dressed in a black leather gown appeared. “In here! Hurry!”

Zarrah hesitated, distrustful of any offer of help, but what choice did they have? Hauling on Keris’s hand, she dragged him into the darkness of the building, the latch on the door shutting firmly behind them.

The interior smelled strongly of scented oils, and from somewhere, a drummer pounded a rhythmic beat. What was this place?

“Up the stairs, hurry!”

“Who are you?” Keris demanded.

“We’ve mutual friends,” the woman answered, even as a man called out, “Miri, the soldiers are searching every house on the street. Something about a Maridrinian assaulting Welran?”

“Don’t impede them,” the woman answered. “They need no justification for destruction.”

Red glass sconces on the walls provided only minimal light, and Zarrah stumbled twice as they climbed before her eyes adjusted. “What is this place?”

“Brothel,” Keris muttered.

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