There was a booming sound, which woke Tromo up.

There it was again, a deep, jolting boom. There was a curled-up shape next to him on the bed that he remembered must be the lady he had met yesterday. At the third boom, she began to stir. A bleary-eyed face and a mess of tangled brown hair emerged from somewhere under the blanket and she managed to moan over Tromo’s head “Be quiet, Zantheus, I’m still trying to sleep!”

At once a voice answered her, but it did not come from Zantheus.

“Anthē, are you in there?” it shouted from the other side of their door. “Open up!”

Immediately Anthē shot upright, as if struck by a bolt of lightning, standing up wide-eyed with fear. “It’s them!” she said in a loud whisper. “They’ve come back for me!”

Zantheus was getting to his feet from his place on the floor on the other side of the bed. He noticed that Anthē had not managed to stay on the floor for the whole of the night, but it did not seem like the time to bring this up. They had a quick, heated exchange as Tromo looked up at them, still feeling fragile from the lingering memory of his dream and totally perplexed as to what was going on.

“Who?” asked Zantheus. “Who has come for you?”

“Keleb!” hissed Anthē, trying not to be heard. “The man that you rescued me from!”

Another boom. The whole room shook this time. Tromo put his hands over his ears.

“Open up!” the voice called out again in anger. “We know you’re in there, Anthē! Your tailor friend came and told us where you were staying!”

“What do they want from you?” asked Zantheus.

“Don’t you understand?” said Anthē. “They’ve come to take me back, to recapture me! You stole me and they’ve come to get me back! Chito must have followed us and told them where I was! They won’t be afraid of being violent! They’ll probably kill you!”

“Then no, I do not understand!” said Zantheus. “I did not force you to leave that place! I am not to blame for this!”

Another boom, and this time it was followed by a terrible cracking sound as part of the wooden door started to give way. Anthē was thankful that she had thought to lock it last night.

Zantheus wasted no time and dashed round the bed to the other side of the room, flinging himself against the door with all of his weight to act as a barricade. On the other side he heard an “Oof!” as someone who had been leaning against it was knocked backwards. He was not about to let his journey be brought to a close just because Leukos had decided to pick up this stray girl.

“Is there not any way to reason with them?” he said.

“No! You can’t reason with these men!”

Yet another boom. Zantheus was knocked back from the door slightly, but threw himself against it again straight away.

“Just hand over the girl, and we’ll spare you!” came the voice. It must have heard them.

“Are you sure you do not wish to go back with them?” Zantheus looked almost pleadingly at Anthē. From the mixture of shock, fear and now outrage on her face he discovered that the answer was definitely ‘no’. He realised that this line of action was not going to work. “Then use the window!” he said in a whisper as quietly as he could manage. There was a little window on the other side of the room, with shutters.

“How--?” said Anthē.

“Tie some blankets together or something!” said Zantheus, thinking fast. He held the door, just about, against more blows while Anthē, helped by Tromo, hurriedly stripped the bed of its sheets and blankets and rolled them up, tying them together to make as good a rope as they could fashion. At each jolt the door gave way a little more with the horrible sound of straining wood.

“What should I tie it to?” Anthē asked, her heart pounding inside her head.

Knowing that the door would not hold much longer, Zantheus came and grabbed one end of the makeshift rope, then kicked the shutters of the window open. “I’ll hold it,” he said, and flung the other end out of the window. “You go first, then you can help Tromo down.”

Shaking with fear, Anthē awkwardly hoisted herself up onto the window ledge, took hold of the blanket-rope and moved out of sight. With a crash the door to the little bedroom gave way as the wood splintered and it came off its hinges.

Zantheus grabbed Tromo and heaved him up, out of the window and down against the outside wall where he hoped he would brace himself and grab the rope. He turned as two large men burst into the room with a shout, another behind them, both brandishing curved swords.

Seeing the open window and the rope he was holding, two of the men turned and ran out of the room again, one yelling “She’s gone out the window! Come with me!” Zantheus was left with the one remaining man, who roared at him and sprung forwards swinging his blade. Zantheus dodged to one side, as fast as he could manage, but realised at the same time that the swing had not been meant for him as the man’s blade tore through the length of twisted sheet that he was holding.

He heard a cry from outside and hoped that the girl and the boy had made it to the ground safely in time. But there was no time to think about that; his attacker had left himself exposed. Quick as he could Zantheus charged into him with his shoulder. The man almost went out of the window himself, but Zantheus took hold of him before he did so and slammed his head into the side of the windowframe, just hard enough to render him unconscious, he hoped. It worked, and the man slumped to the floor with a groan.

Zantheus thrust his head of the window and looked around urgently. Tromo and Anthē had just made it to their feet after a bumpy landing.

“Go! They’re coming!” he called out to them.

Anthē picked up Tromo and sped off, running for her life, just as the other two men exploded out of the front door of the inn, shouting after her. Zantheus had only a moment to think. He did not know if Leukos was awake but he guessed that if he lost the girl and the orphan then the writer would be reluctant to continue their journey without finding them first. And it was his duty and the noble thing to do to protect them anyway.

He made his decision. Grabbing onto either side of the window, he put one foot on the ledge and watched carefully. The two men had started to chase after Anthē, which was about to take them underneath him. Remembering his training, Zantheus took a deep breath, chose his instant, and flung himself out of the window.

He timed his jump perfectly, colliding with one of the men, lucky not to impale himself on the drawn sword. He rolled as he hit the ground to try and absorb some of the force of his fall, but even so his leg and side and side cried out with pain –there would be heavy bruising there later. The man he had crashed into with went down instantly, completely winded and floored. He was not going to be getting up again in a hurry.

Zantheus wrenched himself to his feet and looked up. The last of the three men wasted no time and in spite of his fallen comrade was still charging after Anthē and Tromo. Zantheus willed himself after him in pursuit. A few early-morning bystanders gaped open-mouthed at what they had just seen, watching him charge off, wondering what was happening.

It was hard for Zantheus to run with the pain from his jump out of the window but he made himself, keeping the last assailant in view. He blinked away the dust from his quarry’s steps and followed him down streets, through the twists and turns, that Anthē took as she tried to lose her pursuer, barging past street-sellers out arranging their wares, ducking under lines of washing, mumbling the odd “Excuse me!” as he careered across the paths of the townsfolk. But Anthē was still too slow while carrying Tromo, Zantheus too slow with his pain from the jump, and eventually the third man caught up with her. She made a mistake and took a turn down a blind alley, finding herself backed against a wall between two buildings.

When Zantheus got to them the man was holding Anthē by the hair, a dagger at her throat, with Tromo trembling face-down on the floor, his hands over his ears. Zantheus recognised the man at once. It was Keleb, the owner of the brothel. For a large man, he could run surprisingly fast when chasing a quarry such as Anthē.

“Don’t come a step closer or I’ll slit her throat!” spat Keleb.

Zantheus remained where he was, rooted to the spot, unsure what to do next. Again, he did not know how his guide back at the inn would react if the girl was murdered, and he knew it was his duty to protect an innocent life. But there was nothing he could do. He had not caught up with them fast enough and now Keleb had the advantage. “Alright,” he said, “I will not come closer. Do not hurt the girl.” He glanced around the alleyway as subtly as he could manage, looking for something that could help him. It was sheltered and quite dark, except for one ray of sunlight slanting in at its opening, near where he stood.

“That’s right,” said Keleb, an arrogant smirk forming on his face, “you won’t.” He was drenched in sweat from the pursuit, but pleased to have caught his prey. Anthē was pale and dared not speak, the dagger close to her throat. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen,” Keleb continued. “First of all, you’re going to put your weapon carefully and slowly on the ground.”

“My sword?” As he spoke, playing for time, Zantheus’s mind whirred. He realised something. The whole reason that Keleb had come after them was to get Anthē. He wanted her back working in his brothel. She was the equivalent of valuable trade goods to him. He was not going to slit her throat.

“Yes, your sword!” shouted Keleb angrily. “Put it on the ground!” While his eyes were on Zantheus, the knight noticed that Tromo, who had obviously been dropped by Anthē or tossed to one side by Keleb, had gotten shakily to his feet just behind and to the side of them. An idea formed in Zantheus’s mind. It was an old trick, but it might work.

“Fine,” said Zantheus. “I will do as you say.” He took hold of his scabbard with the sword in it and removed it from his belt. “Look –here you are.” He held it up in two hands, then lowered it slowly and meaningfully down.

Before the sword reached the ground, however, he grasped the hilt in a sudden movement and drew it, tilting it so that the ray of sunlight coming into the alley was reflected into Keleb’s eyes. A flare of white lanced forth into the alley off the blade. Zantheus started forwards to rush Keleb while he was still blinded, but stopped. Something was not right. It had not worked. Keleb was still standing there in exactly the same position, one hand holding Anthē by the hair, the other holding the dagger, completely unaffected.

“Did you think that was going to be enough to stop me?” snarled Keleb. Either Zantheus’s broken sword had not reflected the light in the way that he had hoped it would –he kept forgetting that it had been shattered– or Keleb had simply shut his eyes for a moment in expectation of the trick. “NOW PUT YOUR SWORD DOWN!” bellowed the whoremonger, bubbling over with rage.

Just as he was shouting this, Tromo bit him on the leg, hard. The light-reflection trick had not worked, but it had bought just enough time and attention for the boy to rally with an unusual display of courage. Keleb cried out, this time in pain, as the boy’s teeth sunk into his shin. Anthē screamed as he fell sideways, pulling her over with him by the hair.

Zantheus catapulted down the alleyway and was on him at once. Anthē had managed to wrestle free, but Tromo was still holding onto the man’s leg by his teeth, making him thrash around in fury and pain. He grabbed Keleb’s dagger arm just in time to stop him from stabbing Tromo and twisted it so that he dropped the weapon. Tromo released the leg from his jaws and, for the second, possibly third, time today Zantheus rendered a man unconscious by employing his training, hitting Keleb on the head very hard with the hilt of his sword. Keleb folded up and collapsed in a heap on the ground.

Stillness. Zantheus just looked at him, panting quietly, still out of breath from the running. “Well done, Tromo,” he said to the boy, who was a bit worse for wear but well enough to stand up, a frown on his face as he grimaced from the aftertaste of Keleb’s trouser leg. Zantheus was surprised at him and quite pleased. “That was a very brave act. You should be proud of yourself.” He remembered something and turned. “Are you alright, Anthē?”

Anthē too had got to her feet and was now holding the dagger that Keleb had dropped. She was looking at her former employer as he lay unconscious on the ground, still white as a sheet, a very serious expression on her face.

Zantheus did not think that she had heard him, so he repeated the question. “Are you alright, Anthē?”

Anthē could not hear him. She wasn’t paying attention to anything much else right now, except Keleb. She clutched his dagger in her hand. She thought of all the horrible things that this man had done to her, that she had been made to endure by this man, that he had done to others as well. She thought about all the other women who had suffered, whose lives had been ruined, who had been mercilessly exploited by this man. This was her chance to end all if that, to take her revenge, to stick him like the pig he was with his own knife, like he deserved. After some time Zantheus guessed what she was thinking. He was not about to stop her. This was a wicked man, an evil man. He deserved death. Who was he to stop this girl from giving it to him?

Anthē remained where she was, Zantheus and Tromo watching her. Thoughts were still pouring through her mind. She thought about how much she wanted to kill Keleb, to pay him back for all he had done. But she wondered if that would make her no better than him. She thought about how if she did kill him, someone would probably just step into his place and take over the running of the brothel from him after he had gone. Eventually, she thought about the little boy, whom she had just met yesterday, who was right here, watching her. Very slowly, she lowered the knife.

“You chose well, Anthē,” said a voice from behind them. All three of them turned in shock.

“Leukos!” exclaimed Zantheus.