Kup's hand touched the door latch. A flattened strip of wood was loosely wedged into the wooden catch; the door probably served only to alert its owner when someone easily forced it open, a token gesture suggesting that uninvited guests should stay out.
In other words, there was no holding the door against an attack, because this door had nothing to do with the word "sturdy."
His feet felt as if they'd just been hauled out of the water and left in the winter sea breeze all day, encased in solid ice. Each step was so heavy it made moving a struggle. The time he'd bought by delaying wasn't enough to come up with a better plan. He'd have to open the door sooner or later; the only question was whether he did it willingly.
A middle-aged woman's voice urged him from outside. She didn't sound practiced at hiding her emotions. Even though she tried to make it seem as if she'd simply come back for some firewood, from Kup's tense, suspicious perspective, her urgency seemed especially unnatural.
But really, was waking someone in the middle of the night just to fetch some firewood all that "normal"?
He stood against the wall, out of the door's swing, making sure it couldn't slam into him if someone shoved it from outside. Then he reached out and pulled the latch free. "Come in."
He deliberately leaned the latch against the wall, letting it clack loudly enough for the person outside to hear.
The person outside moved. He heard straw sandals scuffing against the dirt, which eased his mind a little. At least he couldn't think of any inhuman creature that would obediently wear something woven by people and even answer him.
The landlady didn't reply. If she were standing right in front