WOT Adv 239 - Maer

--- The Wheel Turns ---
"Of course you're not fools," Maer responded, attempting a knowing wink. "Why do you think I've waited here? I've been waiting for some wetlanders who are smart enough to chase the man with the gold and not get themselves killed by chasing the gold itself. I want wetlanders who are smart,.strong, and can think - those who can hunt instead of those who are simply eaten. So are you the hunters or the hunted?"
"I need several strong warriors, or what pass for warriors here in the wetlands, to join me in a hunt. Those of you who lack the courage may leave with a single coin to share. Those of you who are willing, and who can best me in single combat, can stay; I will pay you for your time, and tonight we will hunt bigger prey."
Maer had hoped to disperse some of them and even more had hoped to lure some of them into helping him, surely some of these men could be convinced to help him out.
"What're ya babblin' about ya dirty savage," one large man a greasy veil that did little to hide his mane of facial hair. "Just hand over the coiin and we won't slit your throat!"
"Yeah, give us the coin you promised!" Another pouted.
"Yeah..." Others joined in growing emboldened and more hostile. "Now, or we'll kill ya!" Apparently, they weren't in a talking mood.
"Fine. You wetlanders want my coin?" Maer growled. " Then take it!" He removed the pouch from off his belt and made as if to throw it hard over their heads some distance out onto the side street. However, no one was folled by the gesture and someone even scoffed.
"Light, he must think we're idiots. Let's just kill him." The one with the busy beared said, pulling out a cudgel.
"Good plan," another said brandishing his knife. Behind them others chimed in pulling out an assortment of weapons.
Maer decided it was time to leave. Glancing quickly about, he saw a window sill above his head with iron bars. Perhaps, if he could jump and reach the sill. He lept up, stretching his tall frame out, but his hands barely brushed the bars before falling back among the cuthroats. Cudgels and daggers lashed out at him, one scoring a gash down the back of his left shoulder.
Maer spun, away from his attackers, twisting and dodging, he ran towards a section of the wall and lept towards it, his hands outstretched. Pushing with his feet on the opposite wall he began to wriggle away from his attackers up the wall.
"Burn him! He's getting away!" The calls shouted for him. Some grasped loose paving stones from the cobbled street and threw them at him, but they all fell short or missed their mark.
"Come on, this way!" Another yelled. "He won't get far! I know the way up!" Cursing and milling about teh wetlanders ran out of the alleyway.

The rapid climb caused his shoulders and arms to burn slightly when he rolled onto the flat roof. Glancing down below him, he could see his attackers running around out of the alleyway, looking for a way up. There did appear to be a trap door in the middle of the ceiling. Perhaps they were going to come up that way, perhaps another route. . .
"Water fat wetlanders," Maer grinned remembering a similar escape from Seanchan soldiers in Falme. Then he grimaced at the scratch on his shoulder. But fat or no, they still carried weapons and sometimes scored a lucky hit.