There is an art to making a quick getaway. It has some of the same ingredients as a regular con. Planning: Pick a spot with a concealed exit. Misdirection: Get your mark looking at something else. Timing: Wait for the precise moment when you can slip away. It also has one additional element. Run like the Demon's of hell are behind you. People don't typically expect you to run, particularly if you spend some time with them and make certain never to do more than saunter. By the time they can react you will be surprised at how far away you can be. Its also worth knowing that all the ass hauling in the world wont help you if you aren't running somewhere in particular, preferably somewhere your mark wont be able to follow. In a pinch you can use a whorehouse. Most brothels don't bat an eye at a pretty girl rushing in, but the bouncers take a dim view of an angry looking man trying to charge through the door. I doubt there was a brothel in Thornton fit to kennel dogs, and in any case, I had a better option.

"Wait!" I shouted, though they didn't seem in imminent risk of pushing on without me. It always helps to get people in the right mindset though, and I wanted the handsome bargeman to be thinking about leaving post haste. I hoped down the pier and leaped onto the raft. I unhooked the mooring rope and shoved off, probably to everyone's shock, and then turned and put myself in position to block any attempt to tie back up. It would only take a few seconds for us to slip away from the dock, and a man will rarely crash tackle a woman if he has any other option. We slipped out onto the black water of the river.

"Thank goodness," I breathed, bending down and placing my hands on my thighs. "Those bastards thought they could kidnap me." I gave the shocked boatman, a thankful smile. Beren looked shocked, an expression which, I'm both pleased and ashamed to say, I engendered on many more occasions in the future.