Garinor froze in place when the door crashed open and the woman stood in the sunlight. He knew he had little time to act. No planning, no scheming. Only a rash action could save him now. Abandoning the answers he was hoping to find in the king’s letter, Garinor stood up slowly, but not in surrender. He grabbed the back of the nearest chair and spun around as fast as he could, smashing the chair into the woman’s face.
She fell in a heap with a cry of astonishment. Garinor wasted no time admiring his success. He had to get out of the house. Through the door he went, taking care to kick the woman once on his way. She was already stirring, and he had barely gotten through the threshold.
The cuts and gashes he had earned in the forest hindered his movement, but he gritted his teeth against the pain and pushed onward. He needed a plan of action. The soggy clothes clung to him and rubbed against his skin, reminding him he needed to get out of the nightclothes and into something else.
He raced through the familiar roads of his hometown and barged into Tomli’s house without knocking. Only the ancient grandmother was home, and Garinor was glad of that. He raced into Tomli’s room and swiped a change of clothes and a pair of leather shoes. He donned them quickly, rolling up his wet clothes to take with him. He couldn’t leave evidence behind that he’d been here.
He ran back outside and hurriedly scanned his trail of footprints. He sighed in relief, seeing that the normal traffic of the day had already concealed his path. Tomli’s grandmother would be in no danger. He couldn’t rest, though. He needed to leave town now. He regretted not being able to at least recover the letter. But grabbing it hadn’t seemed like it was worth the risk of his life. He would have to find his answers another way. But how?
He remembered the king had sent the letter. Would the king also send hunters? No. Why would he send an escort, then killers to slay the escort and its cargo? Deciding at last, he needed to seek the king.