The Fight with No Light

"Why, you little rat," one of my supporters says. He takes a beer- fuelled swing at Maris.

Maris dodges, with the result that my defender's punch connects with the man standing immediately behind him. That man aims a kick at my friend in return. In less time than it takes to tell, in a scene remarkably similar to the one I was involved in a few nights ago, the bar is a seething mass of fighting men. I can't see how they can tell who is friend and who is foe, but that doesn't seem to bother them.

Early on, the oil lamps get knocked over and extinguished, and the rest of the fight takes place in near darkness. I try to make my way over to the wall, where I hope that I will be out of harm's way, without getting hit. It's not easy in the dark, but more by luck than by judgement I manage it. Part-way there though, someone treads on the trailing hem of my robe, and a tearing noise and a draught tell me that my bad luck with clothing has continued.

I've no sooner reached the relative safety of the wall when:

1. I feel the point of a knife pressing at my side. Then I hear Maris's voice say: "Come with me. girl," He must have eyes like a cat's to have found me in the dark.
2. What those two men in grey cloaks and black headbands [2484] have been up to becomes apparent.
3. The door to the street is flung inward, and a party of guards enter, carrying lanterns. At first I fear that they may have come for me, but then I realise thay have merely heard the noise of the fight and come to investigate.

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