Adventure of Tabitha 1

The hulking mercenary barrels in, shoulder first, trying to smash Tabitha aside and seize the tavern keeper. Chairs scrape. The circle of men tightens, blades flashing in the lamplight.

Tabitha gives ground just enough to break the shove, keeping her body between the keeper and the rush of steel. Behind her, the tavern keeper clutches his lute and stumbles hard against the mast.

The nearest mercenaries hesitate, glancing toward the door, then back to Tabitha and the keeper. One shifts his grip, choosing caution over a blind charge.

Tabitha catches the opening, the loosened ring of men, the blocked exit, and the keeper’s warning. To escape the cove now means forcing a path before the mercenaries can close around the song and cut it off forever.

The Hulking Figure and his mercenary companion are momentarily distracted by the Tavern Keeper's sudden outburst, their eyes darting toward the loose wood.

Tabitha slips her hand into the gap and hooks the ledger free in one clean pull.

Dust shakes loose from the pried board as the book comes up, heavy and dry in her grip.

The Tavern Keeper flinches with relief, his lute pressed tight to his chest, while the nearest mercenaries stare at the empty space where the evidence was hidden.

Tabitha has the book now, and every eye in the tavern snaps toward her as the shove of bodies begins again.

Tabitha drives forward with the ledger tucked tight to her chest, and the nearest bodies part under the force of her rush.

A mercenary reaches for her sleeve, but she slips past his grasp and plants her shoulder into open space between tables.

Chairs scrape as the line of men bunches up, their own momentum tangling them together at the aisle.

The Tavern Keeper darts in behind Tabitha, lute clutched to his ribs, face pale but moving fast.

Tabitha reaches the exit first, one hand already at the door, with the tavern roaring behind her.

Tabitha hauls the door inward and gets half a step through, but the frame bites her shoulder as bodies crowd close behind her. The keeper squeezes in at her back, lute tight against him, and the ledger slips against her ribs when someone grabs for it.

Her push forces the door wider, then stalls. The threshold is clear, but not the path beyond it, and the mercenaries slam into the gap from inside, pinning the moment in place.

He twists past her heel and points with a sharp nod toward a side lane beyond the tavern wall, where moonlight shows a thinner route than the main street.

The shout turns the press of men, but it also exposes the only clean exit, a narrow spill of dark between stacked barrels and the fence.

Tabitha leaves Smuggler's cove tavern behind and arrives at left alley.

The left alley swallows them in damp shadow, salt and fish-rank air clinging to the stones. Tabitha lands in a crouch, ledger hugged tight, while the keeper slips in behind her with his lute tucked close to his ribs.

The passage is narrow but clear, lined with leaning barrels and a fence slick with brine. Ahead, the alley bends toward darker cover, and behind them the tavern doorway still spills noise and movement.

He darts to the inside wall and motions Tabitha past the barrels, using his body to hide the lute from the alley mouth.

From the tavern entrance, boots pound and a curse snaps across the threshold. The first pursuer reaches the gap, but the alley angle already works against him.

Tabitha and the keeper are in the lane now, with a cramped turn and better cover ahead, while the mercenaries are forced to commit to the choke point behind them.

He snaps his chin toward the darker bend, then points lower, to the alley floor where old runoff has stained the stones black. The ledger stays tight in Tabitha's hands, and his grip shifts to shield the lute as if it matters more than his own breathing.

Boots hammer at the alley mouth behind them. The first mercenary edge appears at the turn, then checks his stride as he tries to read the shadows ahead.

Tabitha cuts hard for the darker bend, the ledger hugged close as her boots find the driest stones. The keeper darts after her, keeping low, while the alley behind them erupts with shouted footfalls.

A hand catches at her trailing cloak, but the cloth tears free in a sharp rip. She keeps moving, and the sudden sound buys her a few heartbeats, even as it advertises exactly where they went.

They reach the dark bend together. The passage narrows there, with a low lip of stone at the base of the fence and slick runoff shining underfoot.

Ahead, the bend opens toward the drain mouth. Behind them, the mercenary silhouette commits at last, stepping into the alley with his shoulders squared for a rush.