Yet to be named, pt6

The sound of ringing bells awoke him. It was completely dark inside the room. He tumbled off the bed and felt his way towards the closed window. It took a few bumps and a curse, but he managed to find it. He opened the shutters.

Dim light encased the room. It was not much, but after the complete blackness he winced and turned away.

When he looked back, he didn’t like what he saw.

There was a bright aura of a fire lighting up half the horizon. A few big plumes of dark smoke contrasted strangely with the glow.

The square below was thronged with people running to and from the fire: civilians with terrified faces, or would-be fire fighters carrying buckets of water, city guards with both buckets and swords, wailing babies, crying mothers, screaming men....

It was a mess. But if there was a fire in the city, it was likely to spread. Anyways, he couldn’t get more sleep with all the noise around him. He put on his hooded cloak, picked up the travelling bag and went to the door.

It was blocked.

He didn’t understand. Someone had barricaded the door from the other side. He swore, ran to the window and looked out.

Luck was with him. Just below the window a wooden board wide enough for his feet led to the tiled roof of the inn’s lower part. He blessed the gods for uneven architecture and climbed over.