The privy was a long, narrow room with several private alcoves in a row near the back entrance of Dark She Looks Upon Me. Vambran strolled toward the doorway of the jakes and was nearly knocked aside by a young boy of perhaps nine years who rushed past him and out the back door, into the yard.
Vambran at first turned back toward the dining room of the establishment, thinking that someone was perhaps chasing the lad, but even as he pivoted, realization set in. The scoundrel had grabbed at Vambran's coin purse on his way past. Groaning in disgust, Vambran quickly reached down and felt inside the inner pocket where he kept the leather pouch and discovered it was missing.
"Damnation!" he snarled, spinning back to pursue the thief.
The lieutenant charged past the entrance to the jakes and dashed out into the yard, where a number of wagons were parked. The entire yard was enclosed by the backs of other buildings, making it a completely private area, with the only other means of egress being a large wooden gate off to Vambran's right. At the moment, the portal was shut. Of the boy, Vambran could see no sign.
Stepping quickly out into the middle of the yard, Vambran peered desperately in every direction, trying first to spot some place where the thief could have scrambled up and over a wall, or through a doorway or window, but no escape route was immediately apparent. Rolling his eyes, the lieutenant began to move among the wagons, checking to see if the lad had simply slipped into a hiding place of some sort or another.
"Don't you just hate it when they do that?" came a voice from high up and slightly behind Vambran.
He spun around and peered warily up to the top of a low roof, where a comely woman with close-cropped hair the color of wheat lounged casually on one elbow, smiling at him. She was dressed in a loose, billowy shirt of fine white linen, over which she wore a magenta vest. Both the vest and the shirt were unlaced to midway down her belly, exposing ample cleavage as she leaned forward to return Vambran's gaze. Her shapely legs nicely filled a pair of snug-fitting purple breeches and were tucked underneath her rump.
"You saw the boy?" Vambran said, giving the woman a hard stare. "Which way did he go?"
"Nowhere," the woman replied, shifting her weight and rolling up onto her knees, all the while smiling broadly down at him. "He just disappeared."
"You're quite the jokester," Vambran said icily, turning so that he could watch the doorway back into Dark She Looks Upon Me, in case the boy tried to dart back inside from his hiding place.
Motion caught the lieutenant's eye, but instead of the thief running inside, Vambran spied two figures emerge from inside the aszraun. They didn't look friendly, and they were staring right at him. The first was a short, wiry fellow with long, greasy hair tied back with a strip of leather. He twirled a pair of long-bladed daggers in his hands. The second was a big, hairy man, his face mostly hidden behind a thick, bushy beard and mustache. He repeatedly smacked the steel head of a wicked-looking cudgel into the open palm of his free hand. They both stepped out into the yard and stopped a few paces in, grinning malevolently.
Oh, terrific, Vambran lamented. I walked right into it.
"What's this about?" he said, turning his gaze back to the woman on the roof and cocking his head to one side in accusation. "You already got my coin pouch."
He began to eye the yard, looking for the best place to defend himself.
"Oh, it's not your gold we're after, mercenary," the lovely blonde said, rising to her feet and slipping a hand into her vest pocket. "But your day is definitely taking a turn for the worse."
She pulled her fist free and tossed a handful of something small, like tiny reddish-brown seeds, into her mouth.
Vambran wasted no more time sizing up his opponents. He took several steps backward, away from the woman, drawing his sword free and turning so that his back was against a wall and he could see all three of his foes clearly.
The woman stepped to the edge of the roof and tilted her head back, then thrust it forward again, as though she was going to spit. Instead of the tiny seeds, though, a gushing spray of liquid spewed forth from her mouth, thousands of tiny droplets glinting in the noonday sun like a shower of rain. The burst of spray fanned out and cascaded over Vambran even as far away as he stood, fully five paces away from his attacker.
The lieutenant yelped and turned away from the fountain of liquid, raising his free arm up to protect his face.
The droplets showered over him, instantly sizzling on skin and clothing alike as they soaked him down. Vambran let out a scream of pain and staggered away from the spray, feeling acid burning him from head to toe. He nearly dropped his sword as his skin erupted in numerous blisters, red and swollen. He fell to one knee, swiping at his body futilely, trying to get the source of his agony off of him. He thought he was going to retch.
"Now," said one of the two men, who had both stayed well back until that point, obviously anticipating the magical attack.
Vambran struggled to open his eyes and catch a glimpse of the pair's intentions. It was difficult through the burning pain all over his skin. He could tell, though, that the thugs were separating and closing the distance between themselves and him. The one to the lieutenant's right, wielding the cudgel, began to trot toward Vambran, angling his body sideways and winding up to swing his weapon as he closed in, intent on putting a powerful hit on the mercenary. The other one, with the daggers, was circling around to come at Vambran's flank, still rapidly twirling both blades. He cocked his hand back as if to throw one.
Through clenched teeth, Vambran fought through the distraction of the acid burns and straightened slightly.
He stared at the man with the daggers directly in the eyes and said in his most commanding voice, "Flee!"
The word was a magical trigger, and Vambran felt the surge of energy leave his mouth and radiate straight toward the thug with the slender blades. The man took one last step and flung his weapon even as the cunning smile left his face and was replaced with a look of profound terror. The lieutenant's magic had disrupted his throw, and the dagger sailed harmlessly over Vambran's head, clattering against the wall behind him. Spinning, the thug ran toward the doorway back into the establishment, looking back once in abject horror.
At the same time, the mercenary tried to duck low to avoid the swing of the cudgel, but the combination of his pain-induced disorientation and the effort of casting the commanding spell made him a fraction of a second too slow. The swipe missed Vambran's head, but it caught him hard against his shoulder. The mercenary heard bone crunch and felt his shoulder pop in blazing pain. His arm went numb as he was knocked backward from the impact, sent sprawling several feet and landing with a thud, the wind knocked out of him.
Groaning, Vambran squinted up into the sun overhead and saw it suddenly blotted out by the silhouette of the thug. The man had his cudgel raised high, ready for another crushing blow. Desperately, Vambran tried to roll out of the way, kicking out at his foe's knee, hoping to delay the strike long enough to get out of range. The heel of his boot snapped into the man's leg, twisting both it and the thug around, causing the cudgel to slam into the hard-packed ground next to Vambran's head. The blow was so solid, the thump made the mercenary's head bounce. He struggled to his knees and crawled as quickly as he could to the side while the thug clutched at his knee and snarled curses at the lieutenant.
Suddenly, Vambran felt the tingle of magic swarming over him. There was a hint of pain, a suggestion of agonizing ache, licking at the corners of his mind. The magic seemed to be trying to convince him he was feeling the effects of the acid spray all over again, but he steadfastly refused to give in to it, forcing the idea out of his thoughts.
From overhead he heard a feminine snarl of exasperation and looked up enough to see the short-haired mage scowling as she pointed a sharpened stick in his direction. The lieutenant managed to give her a smile as he rose unsteadily to his feet, his right arm hanging limp at his side, his sword lying on the ground.