‘Open!’ Beyard turned. ‘Shall we take our punishment like men then?’ But Medrin was already at the window. He vanished down the rope and that was that. Gone. Craven bastard. ‘Open this door!’ The roar from outside was furious this time. The other Lhosir, the blacksmith’s lad Gallow, pushed an empty chest across the threshold and sat on it. Beyard sat beside him, wedging the door shut. ‘Open up! Beardless cowards!’ Beyard spat. He cast a grin at Gallow. ‘Shall we cast the runes together while we give our noble lord a minute to make good his escape. I dare say we can hold them here for hours if needs be, but another minute or so should do it.’ He glanced over his shoulder as the door shook again. ‘My dead grandmother could push harder,’ he yelled. ‘Go away and find some friends with some strength in their arms. I can give you my word we’ll wait if that helps!’ A roar of rage answered. The door groaned as whoever was on the other side threw themselves at it.
