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Helena panted as she exclaimed. “Constable, there's a fight in the Tavern question! Men and women, the Lady’s influence! One of my teammates and Edward are trapped inside!”
The constable, a tall slender man with fair skin, blue eyes, rugged brown hair and a weathered face set his jaw grimly. He stood and grabbed his staffing cloak. “I feared this. Come. We'll put an end to it.” He motioned to his two deputies who stood and grabbed cudgels from a nearby rack. Together they set off at a brisk march, the lantern light bobbing. Helena kept pace, her heart pounding, a prayer forming silently on her lips.
The Tavern loomed ahead, the door banging open, a roar of voices spilling into the night. Inside mugs shattered, benches crashed, and shouts of “the Lady!” and “Demons!” filled the air.
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Alistair strode through the door. He slammed his staff on the floorboards with the thunderous crack. His voice was booming over the din:
“Enough! By the council's word, this ends now!”
His deputies flanked him, their cudgels raised. The villagers hesitated, fists frozen mid mid-swing, the ingrained light of weight of law and order dragging them back from the brink. Through the heaving crowd, Helena caught a glimpse of Fairbairn by the wall, one arm brace protectively around Edward. Her braid came loose, and a breeze darkened her, but she was still on her feet.
Alistair slammed his staff against the floorboards, the staff making a thundering sound as it touched the wood. His voice boomed over the roar. “Enough! Stand down, all of you!”
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