Wood," observed Jackson, in a slightly-sarcastic tone. A few yards further off something grey, inert, was lying, a huddled-up heap of humanity twisted into a strange unnatural shape. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she panted, shifting wildly in his hold, so that he had all to do to keep her thus imprisoned. ‘You have every right to be angry with me. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. She felt flattered. And if you mean to use that dagger to slip the lock, you’ll make enough noise to bring ten spies down on us.
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