With all this I was as dirty and dilapidated as everyone else. I was also limping more joggily, you can’t keep up limping speed for long.

To avoid a group of Southerners roaring along ahead, I turned up a roofed alley. It was very dark and when I cannoned into something I was horribly shaken.

“Oi-oi,” said a man’s voice echoing in the tunnel. “Look where yer going, mate.”

I tried to go on, but found my wrists gripped. I twisted and stopped short, he was really holding hard.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“It’s an old trick, mate. Bash into someone in a dark alley, pick each other up apologetic, and off you go with my pocketful.” He started to frisk me, patting my pockets which were as barren as a great-grandmother, then His hand went into my shirt. “Well,” he said. “This is more interesting than a couple of jewelled goblets, isn’t it?” His other hand crawled up my neck, the underside of my chin, pinching the flesh there a little, and up over my mouth and nostrils. His hand smelt of metal and dirt and blood and warmth. It explored further. “You have nice hair, too.”

“Please let me go,” I said calmly. “I’m in a hurry to get somewhere. It’s important to me—I’m not bluffing.”

“I like to be asked so nice. But you’ll need company in this area.”

“Don’t change your direction for me.” “I weren’t going nowhere special.”

We emerged into the red glare. Immediately we turned to assess each other, and grinned as we caught the other’s eyes. He was a big man, quite young, with a short, shapeless beard of coarse, black hair. I’d a right to resent his suspicion of me—he had a sack over his shoulder and it was full of loot.

“Well, where are you going?” he said.

“The 8th Winding Street from the 7th Bridge.” I didn’t mention the inn in case I wanted to get rid of him later. “Thank you for your company,” I said circumspectly.

He was useful, for no one at all any longer annoyed me with him there beside me, and he didn’t ask all the questions I’d expected either.

But we soon passed a tavern and he said, Would I like a drink? When I said, “No” he said, Well, he would and I might as well have one with him as wait thirsty.

“But I told you, I’m in a hurry. Please come on—Or if you’re dying of thirst, I’ll go on alone. Thanks for coming this far.”