hours, woman. Not ten minutes.”
I pointed at the clock and he peered at it with red-rimmed eyes. “Oh. Well then. Time to make our escape.”
“How are we going to do that?” I asked. He had yet to tell me.
In response, the tall man walked over to the window and pushed it open, letting a chill wind blow in. It was snowing again. I looked at the folded gliders we’d brought in. “I don’t think those will fit through the window unfolded.”
“We’re not using gliders.” He walked back to the bed, stripping the sheets off, and began tying the corners together. I watched him somewhat dubiously.
“You plan to climb out the window using that?” A more alarming thought occurred to me. “You plan to have me climb out the window using that?”
“I’m one hundred percent confident in my sheet-tying skills,” Fyrsil replied, pulling another knot tight. “Trust me, I’m a professional. I’ve been doing this since I was a boy.”
“Escaping from your mother?” I smiled, envisioning a child-sized Fyrsil scrambling out of the top window of a leaning building in the Tyrko Ruins.
“Yes.” Fyrsil had bound all the sheets and blankets of his bed together and moved to the second bed. “My mom stuck me in timeout, once, for snitching another brigand’s silver. I tied every last scrap of clothing in my room together to make a rope and escaped before she knew what happened.”
He chuckled, recalling the memory. “Course, I received quite the spanking when I went back home that night. Didn’t stop me from escaping again though. Once you get that first taste of freedom . . .”
“Always a free spirit,” I finished. I understood what he meant. Freedom was in a magic users blood.
“That’s right.” Fyrsil had tied all the sheets and blankets together to make one long rope. Tying it off on the bedpost closest to the window, he threw the rest of it out the window, leaning out to see how far it went. “Perfect.” He looked at me. “Which one of us goes first?”
“You,” I insisted. “If your knots are as good as you say they are, then you shouldn’t have a problem.”
Fyrsil rolled his eyes and gripped the makeshift rope, lifting one leg over the ledge. My heart skipped a beat when he put his other leg over the ledge, but even fully supporting himself with the line of bed sheets, it held. His hair blew in his face and he released the rope with one hand to push the strands out of his face.
I reached out and grabbed his hand. “You’re going to fall to your death!” I hissed. “Be careful!”
“I didn’t realize you cared,” he snorted. Slowly, he began lowering himself, hand after hand, until he reached the end of the rope, then released it to drop to the ground only a couple of feet below. His pale face looked up at me. “Your turn. Hand the gliders down and put out the candle before you come out.”
Picking up the gliders, I leaned out of the window, lowering one down and then the other. I blew out the candle, swathing our room in darkness. I walked to the window and reached down, grabbing the rope. My jaw hurt, I was clenching it so hard. I gripped the sheets with my other hand and slowly let myself out the window. For one long, panicked moment, my feet dangled in thin air. I frantically kicked my feet out, and my boots made contact with the side of the inn with a thump.
“Hush, you’re going to wake the entire inn.” Fyrsil clicked his tongue impatiently.
Hand after hand, I lowered myself with painstaking slowness. My arms began to ache with the strain. I looked down, which was a horrible mistake. I was still several feet above ground. “I think I’m going to fall,” I squeaked.
“Keep going, Adaryn, you’re almost there,” Fyrsil’s voice sounded from below me. “And this is just my opinion, but your petticoats look very fancy for a traveling nomad, you know.”
“Fyrsil!” I breathed through clenched teeth. “If I ever get out of this, I’m going to—” My arms gave