Reed was stuck.

She seesawed halfway through a window, her feet and legs stuck out into the street, her head and arms caught in the relatively palatial interior of a merchant’s store house. There was a jar of Iskendari incense worth hundreds mere inches from her hand, but she could not reach it for she was pinned by a heavy window sash which had come down with all the force of a guillotine when she crept through it. That had been unfortunate. More fortunate was the fact that the small hand mace tied at her waist had taken the brunt of the blow and spared her being chopped in half.
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