“Is something in the mist?” one asked as I threw the clay jar.I turned and burst out of the mist, rushing back to Minx's side. The clay shattered. The gas blossomed with a swelling hiss. Two more guards clattered to the ground with a clash. I paused by Minx, glancing down at her.She had her attention focused on the lock, her picks moving, twisting. Another mechanism clicked. A hollow tone rang from the door. Progress, I hoped.“Alchemist tricks,” a guard growled. “Chamomile powder. Las damned street urchins use it.”“That was no street urchin,” the other guard said. “Too tall to be them or a thieving halfling.”“Still. Hold your breath. We got to rush her.”“Her?”“Didn't you see the tits on her. She was naked and heaving.” A guttural growl. “Once we grab her, we can have fun with her.”I arched an eyebrow, clutching the sticky bomb with my right hand while my left drew my dagger. They thought they could capture me? I crouched low. The smoke from the first bomb had almost vanished, leaving. It was not a pleasant hallway. It smelled musty, with hints of old food and stale urine. The walls were plaster and painted a vile shade of green. The door at the far end, which presumably led to ground floor flats, was halfway off its hinges.Progress up was by way of stairs or either of two lifts. Martine summoned one of them with the press of an illuminated, arrowed button. Machinery ground, but the carriage took a while to arrive.Martine didn't speak while they waited, and Dominic couldn't think of anything useful or chatty to say, so he contented himself with watching the numbers slowly fall on the lighted panel above him. The building, he saw, had eighteen floors.The lift arrived, admitted them. It was a dull metal box with a strip light, and like the hallway, it held an unpleasant odour. Dominic had little doubt that it was used on a regular basis as a toilet.Martine pressed the button which would take them to floor thirteen then, once the doors slid shut, she attacked him.
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