If Emmaline had not been so focused on watching for her lovers return, or so worn out by his attentions the previous evening she might have been able to spot the trouble before it was too late. As it was she was leaning against the stone wall of a chandlers shop in a most un-justicar like way when she felt the hard metal muzzle of a pistol press into her ribs. At almost the same time a heavy hand, dirty and smelling of sausage grease clamped down over her mouth.

"Guntag Frauline Justicar," a grating voice said from behind her. Emmaline didn't recognise the speaker but the distinctive smell of sour ale  pricked at her nose and she sneezed into the hand covering her mouth. Her assailant cursed and fetched her a blow across the shoulders with the butt of his pistol.

"We are going to go for a little walk" Alebreath told her, "If you shout or try to escape I'll put a pistol ball through your back." The pistol jabbed her ribs and the hand went from her mouth to her shoulder.

"Who are you?" Emmaline demanded, though she allowed him to turn her away from the gunnery school and march her down to an alley beside an inn.

"Just someone with a use for a Justicar," Alebreath replied. The hand left her shoulder and gripped her ass for a moment before returning to its place and shoving her down into the alley.

"Maybe more than one use," he leered. Emmaline considered her options as she was lead towards a cart that appeared to be loaded with barrels. From the smell they were barrels of pickled herring, a staple at inns throughought the city. A disheveled looking nag was hitched to the harness of the wagon and looked none to happy about it. Before Emmaline could begin to incant a spell the pistol was pulled away and her hands were trussed behind her back with what she assumed was herring wire from the way it bit her wrist. That would have helped her cause if the next thing that happened hadn't been a gag of some kind of greasy material being tied around head. She tried to speak but it came out muffled as Alebreath pulled the gag tight. There was no way she could work a spell with both her hands and mouth impeded.

"Wmmmrh arrmmm yoummmm?" Emmaline demanded but her attacker picked her up and slung her into the back of the wagon, grabbing her feet as she kicked and binding them with the same wire that bound her wrist.

"I'm a guy whose brother is going to be hung tomorrow morning, unless maybe he has a Justicar to trade for him," Alebreath returned. He shoved Emmaline back into the cart, hastily making a hollow among the kegs to conceal her. Using some more of the wire he bound her to the lower hoop staves of two of the hundred pound barrels. She got her first look at him, an ugly heavy man whose nose had been broken more than once and had added the ornamentation of drinkers veins beside. He had lost an eye at some point and wore a filthy looking patch that made Emmaline itch. The pistol he carried was a simple crude thing, like any wagoner might use for protection. It was cheap but it probably worked well enough. From the fact that he hadn't prepared the wagon in advance it was clear that this hadn't been premedetated, the fellow had proabbly been making his deliveries, spotted her, and come up with the plan on the spur of the moment. That was good in its way, but it also would make it harder for Neil to find her as the randomness of the attack would work against her.

"I got a place we can get to know each other better while we negotiate for my brothers release, but I dont want you to be uncomfortable while we travel, or overcome with a need to try to get help. He spread a heavy horse blanket over her as he chuckled, keeping her from sight from those on balconies above just as the barrels would keep her out of sight from the street level. Emmaline didn't struggle, she had been tied enough in more pleasant circumstances to know that she wasn't going to be able to break free of the wire restraints, and she didn't want to encourage her captor to clout her across the head. The sound of his hobnails rang on the stones of the alley before the wagon creaked as he climbed up into the drivers bench. There was a shaking of leather and the tired horse's hooves began to clatter. Emmaline squirmed her body down as far as she could till her feet could reach the barrels at the end. Probing with her toes she touched one barrel after the other till she found what she was looking for, one of the empties being returned for reuse. Cursing into her gag she worked her toes under the barrel and then waited until the sunlight of the open sky hit the top of the blanket. Flexing her body she flipped the barrel over the back of the wagon so that it clattered to the ground in the mouth of the alley with a crack of splintering wood.

"Oh you bitch," Alebreath snarled, but he didn't stop. As Emmaline predicted he didn't want to stop in the street to retrieve the barrel, it would attract too much attention that she might have used to try to alert people that she was being held prisoner. As it was it would serve, she hoped as a clue for Neil, in the event she wasn't able to free herself. The wagon clattered on through the noisy streets of Nuln.