Shards of a Broken Crown (12 page)

“Talwin,”
said the next voice.

“Reese,”
said the third, and Dash remembered the tall quiet man with whom
Talwin spoke from time to time. “I saw you three move and took
the moment. No sense standing around like sheep.”

Dash doubted
that; he was certain Talwin had alerted Reese something was afoot,
but he didn’t care to debate that now. “Good,” he
said aloud. “We can use all the help we can getting out of
here.”

“Now
what?” said Gustaf. “We’re in the darkest pit I’ve
seen and the foulest smelling, and what are we to do next?”

Dash said, “This
is part of the old sewer under the wall. If we keep moving back
toward the city center, we’ll find a way out of Krondor.”

“Why not
just move away from the city if we’re under the wall?”
asked Reese.

“Because
this”—Dash’s hand struck the stone next to which he
stood—”is the outer limit of the sewer. To get on the
other side of the wall you better be able to chew rock.”

“Damn,”
said Gustaf. “I thought we’d slip out under the wall or
something when you told me of the sewers.”

“They
never connected the sewer in the foulbourgh with the inner city. It
would make it too easy for an invader to slip in.” Dash
muttered, “As it is, a good crew of sappers could still get in
within weeks if they knew this was here. There’s one breach to
the other side of this wall, but we must go into the city to
eventually get there.”

“Well,
which way do we go?” asked Talwin.

Glancing up at
the faint light of the hole above, Dash oriented himself. “Get
over here.”

The men gathered
near him. “Gustaf, put your right hand on my right shoulder.”
He felt the mercenary’s strong hand take a grip of his tunic.
“Talwin, do the same to Gustaf, and Reese bring up the rear.
Listen for my instructions.” Dash put his right hand on the
wall and said, “Let’s go, slowly. And if you lose your
grip, sing out.”

They moved off
into the gloom.

Jimmy turned
suddenly and put his hand over Malar’s mouth as he let the
torch fall to the stone walkway next to the sewer. As he hoped, the
torch began to fail and flicker, allowing Jimmy to step on it,
putting out the light. Malar had the presence of mind not to be too
shocked by the move, and he endured standing there with Jimmy’s
hand over his mouth.

When Jimmy
removed it, Malar heard what Jimmy had, men moving cautiously down
another tunnel, nearby. Whispering as quietly as possible, Jimmy
said, “Someone’s coming.”

Malar nodded.

They stood
motionless, listening to the faint sound of men moving slowly. Then
one spoke. His voice was muffled and distant and nothing of what was
said came through, but Jimmy would have bet a purse of gold they were
invaders on patrol. Something about the quality of the speech hinted
at an accent. They waited until the sound died out, as the strangers
moved away.

Jimmy knelt and
felt around in the dark until he located the torch. It was still hot
to the touch. He struck a spark with flint and got the flame going
again and said, “We may have to lose this if we run into
another patrol.”

“You mean
walk around down here blind!” said Malar, obviously upset at
the thought.

“I know my
way around here pretty well,” said Jimmy, expressing a
confidence he didn’t feel. “Besides, if we’re
apprehended by the invaders, we’re either dead men or
prisoners, and I’d rather take my chances retracing our route
back to the other side of the wall than those two choices.”

“Agreed,
yet your words fill me with little confidence, young sir.”

Jimmy said
nothing, but glanced around the corner, making sure that no one had
quietly snuck up on them. “This way,” he said, leading
Malar toward a large yawning tunnel entrance that opened up across
from where they stood. This required them to step down into the
filthy water. They slogged through the slowly moving mass of floating
char, and less savory debris, and entered the blackness.

Dash felt
fingers dig into his shoulder as the sound of men echoed from a
distance. In the blackness they couldn’t tell from which
quarter the sound originated. Nerves were frayed and Dash was
concerned one of the three men would panic. Gustaf seemed solid, if
nervous, Talwin was quiet, but Reese was given to blurting out
pointless things, either questioning how much farther they’d
have to move in the gloom, or expressing his apprehensions.

There were
places along the way where light came down from above, faint cracks
in the street above, or a broken culvert admitting some illumination.
Dash was always surprised how bright these areas looked after
complete darkness, but knew it was an illusion. He could only see a
dozen yards or so on either side of a source of light, and once past,
they fell back into a gloom darker than any night he had endured.

The first place
he had hoped to find some torches or a lantern according to his
grandfather’s description had provided no secret cache of
useful items. If there had been a secret stone in the corner he
couldn’t find it. Not the least bit immodest, Dash knew it
wasn’t there, for if it had been, he would have found it.

The second
location was already empty. Someone had emptied it. Dash didn’t
know if it had been stripped of its contents during the fall of the
city or days, even hours before he reached it.

He was leading
the men northward as much as he could, knowing his best chance for
escape was around the area formerly known as Fishtown. It was one of
the few places in Krondor you could enter the bay and with a little
swimming find yourself outside the walls of the city. Dash didn’t
know if the other men could swim, and for the most part he didn’t
care. While he wanted to see these three men to safety if possible,
he’d willingly sell them out to get his information back to the
Prince.

Keeping one hand
on the wall, he led them deeper into the darkness.

Jimmy motioned
toward the faint light. Malar nodded, whispering, “A way out,
young sir?”

“Perhaps.
Boost me up on your shoulders so I can take a look.”

Malar knelt, and
when Jimmy put his left boot on the servant’s shoulders, Malar
stood, grabbing Jimmy’s ankles to support him as he was lifted
to a point just below the light. Jimmy fought for balance a moment,
but Malar kept his motion steady, and Jimmy kept his position as he
grabbed a support in the floor above him to keep from falling.

“Great!”
said Jimmy. “It’s a cellar door, off its hinges.”

Jimmy got his
fingers in the crack and pushed. “I can’t get any
leverage.” He said, “Let go,” and as Malar
complied, Jimmy jumped down to stand before his servant. “No
way to get it open.”

“Are there
no stairs in this accursed dungeon?” Jimmy chuckled. “Hardly
a dungeon; a maze, no doubt. But you’re right and I’m an
idiot.” He sighed theatrically. “There are several places
with stone steps up to basements.” He looked around in the
gloom, barely illuminated by the faint flickering of his torch. “If
I’m not mistaken, one isn’t too far from here. Pray to
whatever gods you worship that the top of the steps is unblocked.”

Malar muttered
an almost silent benediction and followed behind Jimmy.

Dash heard
something ahead of him in the dark and whispered, “Don’t
move!”

The men behind
him stopped their forward motion as sounds around them echoed. “What
is-—” began Talwin.

He never
finished as Reese struck him from behind, knocking him from his feet.
“Here!” he shouted.

Suddenly men
were swarming in the dark and lanterns uncovered, blinding Dash
momentarily. He blinked trying to see beyond the brilliant lights,
but could only see dark shapes hurrying toward him. Thinking of
nothing else to do, he leaped forward, trying to dodge between two of
the shapes. One man lunged at him, missing, while the other was slow
in turning, with Dash past him before he could be intercepted.

Dash slogged as
quickly through the knee-deep water as he could, and behind a pair of
lanterns he saw movement. Dodging to his right, he rushed to another
potential exit as arms grabbed him from behind, dragging him down
into the water.

Dash turned,
kicking hard, and felt his foot strike the man’s leg. Dash
scuttled backwards in the water, and another man seized him. A voice
in the gloom said, “They’re making too much noise! Shut
them up!”

Dash felt pain
for a brief moment as someone struck him hard behind the ear with a
billy club, then he sank into unconsciousness.

Jimmy pushed the
trap up and with relief he found that it moved. He glanced around
under the slight opening he created, and seeing no movement, he
heaved. The large wooden trap swung over, to crash noisily against
the floor behind him. He hurried up into the dark room as a cloud of
soot exploded into the air from the trap.

Malar sneezed as
he came up. The room was the back storage area of a tannery near the
river to the north of the city, and it had taken Jimmy most of the
day and into the evening to discover it.

The roof of the
building was gone, probably accounting for its being abandoned, as
the nights would still be cold. Jimmy looked around and saw lights in
a few buildings nearby, but nothing close by. Malar could be seen in
the faint light inside the building. “If I’m as dirty as
you, we’d better stay out of sight.”

“Good
advice, young sir,” agreed the servant. “You are dirtier
than a coal seller. One glance at us, and any fool could tell we had
been somewhere we should not be.”

A sound caused
Jimmy to hold up his hand. “What—”

At once he
pulled his sword, as men came swarming into the room, over the
burned-out wall and through the single door. Only a fool would fight,
as more than a dozen swords were leveled in their direction. Jimmy
made a clear gesture of letting the sword fall from his hand as he
stepped back.

Hands roughly
grabbed him and tied his arms behind, while two men did the same to
Malar. They all wore rough fighting garb, leadier, and gambesons, but
no metal armor, which would make noise and warn away someone coming
up through the trapdoor.

With a heavy
accent, a man came to stand before the two and said, “Watch a
rat hole long enough, and a rat peers out, eh?” Glancing at
Malar, he said, “Or two.” To the men he said, “Bring
them along,” and Jimmy and Malar were hustled out the door and
down the street.

Dash waited in
silence. He had recovered his wits as he was taken to what he
presumed had once been an underground storage shed. There was no
light. He had explored his environment by touch and on a couple of
occasions wished he hadn’t.

It was a roughly
twelve-by-twelve-foot room, with a single door barred from the other
side. He felt up and down both edges, but all hinges and locks were
on the other side. He was inside until someone released him. From the
stench, several rodents had recently died in the room. Had he eaten
in the last two days, he probably would have added to the mess, but
his captors would have to be satisfied with subjecting him to a fit
of the dry heaves.

After several
painful minutes of gagging, he had managed to overcome the impulse.
Now, about two hours later, he judged, he barely noticed the odor
unless he thought about it.

Mostly he was
attempting to chart his best possible course. That he was in this
dark room rather than being hauled before one of General Duko’s
officers suggested to Dash that he was a prisoner of someone besides
the invaders. The first possibility to occur to him was that he had
been captured by Kingdom soldiers hiding from the invaders. If so, he
could quickly identify himself and recruit them.

More likely, he
was in the clutches of outlaws, and in that case, he would have to
bargain. His companions were missing, probably locked away in a
similar room somewhere nearby.

Suddenly light
shone around the edges of the door and he could hear footfalls
approaching. As bright as the light seemed through the cracks, when
the door was opened, it blinded him. A voice from without said, “You
awake?”

“Yes,”
said Dash, finding his voice was harsh from dryness. “Any
chance of water?”

“Let’s
see if we let you live, first,” came the gruff answer.

A pair of hands
reached in and yanked Dash to his feet, and he was pulled into a
larger room. Shielding his eyes from the glare of the lantern, he
glanced around the room. It was indeed the basement of a burned-out
inn or hotel, and he had been locked in a storage closet. There were
ample signs of life in the building, for crates and bales of goods
were stacked around the room.

A half dozen men
surrounded him, none with weapons evident. It was obvious they felt
confident enough that they could keep him from escaping. As he
blinked against the light from the lantern, he noticed that one man
did hold a large billy, and he was sure he would use it if Dash made
any sign of attempting to flee.

“What
now?” said Dash.

“Come
along,” said the man with a lumpy visage.

Dash said
nothing and followed, walking behind two men, with two more guarding
the rear. The last man stayed in the storage room, for what reason
Dash could only imagine.

Dash was led
down a long dark tunnel, one with a lantern at each end, featureless
and damp. He listened, but only heard the sound of boot leather and
nails on stone. If they were close to the city streets above, those
streets were deserted.

The man in front
pushed open a door, allowing the others to enter a very large room.
It had a dozen torches guttering in sconces. A wooden table, not too
badly charred, had been hauled down from the destroyed tavern
aboveground and now served as the site of what Dash took to be some
sort of court or tribunal.