"Cordellon" by Scott Colby

Here's a quick look at the story that tells us the fate of the man responsible for the death of Emperor Pileaus:

The alley was a dead end, a lidless tomb of towering limestone walls. Cordellon risked a glance over his shoulder, back in the direction of the yapping hounds hot on his trail. The Imperial guards would be on him soon, despite the rain. If they caught him, he'd be strung up before a million snarling fanatics who'd like nothing better than to tear the mastermind of their god's murder limb from limb.

And so he dashed down the alley, his old joints creaking in protest against the speed, the hems of his billowing black robes growing heavy as they soaked up the puddles between the cobblestones. He let the far wall stop his flight, pressing himself as close to the slick white stone as he could. Craning his neck to the left so he could eye the reed-thin seam between buildings, Cordellon began to shuffle sideways toward the tiny gap.

There's no possible way I can fit through there. Cordellon banished the thought from his mind, knowing that doubt would slam shut his only escape route. He took a deep breath and shuffled on. Plenty of room, plenty of room, plenty of room...

The fabric of his sleeve distorted as it pressed into the gap, flattened like light through a prism. He pushed onward, the barks of the hounds loud in his ears now, ignoring the strange tingle as his body passed into the space between realms. The other side was warm and dry and inviting. He closed his eyes as Fuiligh had told him. The view of one's form passing between could drive a man mad, she had said.

Cordellon stumbled as the gap released him, and his eyes snapped open. The alley was gone, replaced by a lush meadow, the skies above clear and blue, the dirt path at his feet slicing through the lush green grass in dozens of directions. He glanced back at the gap, now nothing more than a narrow slit between a twisting tree with a split trunk. A set of canine teeth snapped at him uselessly on the other side. He waved and smiled at the hound and sauntered away arrogantly, impressed with his escape.

To his right, a stand of purple lilies as tall as a small child swiveled their blossoms to examine him.

“Did you see that!” he crooned, squeezing the rain out of his long gray hair. Most mortals would've feared such creatures, but he, Cordellon, was at home among the Fae. “Stupid Pileans will never find me here!”