by A. C. Cobble
“At daylight, we need to be gone,” declared Renfro.
“Gerrol only owes you one night?” asked Towaal. “He’s a business man. I’m sure we can convince him to let us stay longer.”
Renfro scratched at the back of his head and wouldn’t meet Towaal’s eyes. “Well, it’s not exactly Gerrol I dealt with. It might have been one of his men, the manager of the gambling den. He’s the one who contacted me and arranged for my help. He threw a little party tonight and is making sure Gerrol is busy. By daylight, my guy said to be gone.”
“When Gerrol gets back,” added Sincell, “he’ll find out what happened to his guards. We should definitely be gone by then unless we want to fight our way out of this tower.”
“Bloody hell, Renfro,” barked Rhys. “What did you do to his guards?”
The Rat stayed silent.
“It doesn’t matter,” interjected Ben. “What’s done is done. We have until morning.”
He was seething with frustration at his old friend’s risky plan, but it was too late to change, and so far, it had worked. The room was perfect for their intentions, and they had it for the night. They could observe the Octopus, see who was on the top floors, and then come up with a plan. Once they knew what was going on, he hoped an idea would materialize.
They settled down to wait, Renfro’s thugs moving to watch the hallway outside of the apartment. Towaal found a chair on the balcony, and Sincell sat near but not next to the mage. Renfro lounged in a chair on the other side of Sincell, his eyes drooping shut. Rhys started rooting around through Gerrol’s personal items, and Ben began to pace.
“Are you sure that is wise?” asked Ben, looking askance at Rhys as he shuffled through an ornate desk. The top was a pale pink marble, and from a certain angle, it appeared to be phallus-shaped. Probably his imagination, thought Ben.
“Renfro killed the man’s guards,” remarked the rogue dryly. “I don’t think we can do anything more to piss him off.”
Ben shrugged and resumed pacing until, on the other side of the room, he saw Amelie snap a short leather whip.
“What are you doing with that?” exclaimed Ben.
She smiled at him, but she didn’t answer.
Ben flushed. Muttering to himself, he moved to stand several paces behind Towaal just inside the door to the balcony.
He asked her, “Can you feel anything?”
“No,” responded Towaal. “I am not delving the tower, though, merely waiting to see what happens.”
Ben settled in to wait as well. Behind them, he could hear Amelie playing with the whips and Rhys rooting through drawers and dumping their contents on the floor. In front of him, he only heard the wind. He frowned. There was something else. He moved to railing and, not resting his weight on it, looked over. Below them, crossing a bridge on the opposite side of the tower and several floors down was movement.
“What is that?” asked Sincell, joining him at the balustrade.
He shrugged. “It looks like people crossing, but they’re doing it in the dark, and there’s a lot of them. That isn’t just one highborn trying to stay out of sight while he gets his jollies.”
They watched as the dark shapes streamed across into the Octopus. Moments later, lights flickered on at the top of the tower across from them.
“Mage-light,” hissed Sincell.
Towaal moved forward and knelt behind the stone railing. Their room was dark, and at two hundred paces away in the night, no one should be able to see them, but they were spying on mages. Ben ducked down as well. The companions lined the railing, peering between the stonework.
“We need Corinne’s eyes for this,” mumbled Amelie.
Ben nodded silently and glanced at Rhys. The rogue’s eyes were trained on the tower across from them, and he appeared to be ignoring Amelie’s comment.
“I can see,” offered Prem, holding up the spyglass they used to look over the Sanctuary. “I knew this would come in handy.”
“Tell us what’s going on,” said Towaal. “All I can see are shapes of people.”
“There are four people inside a lit room,” described Prem, peering through the tube. “One man, three women.”
“Not all mages then,” murmured Sincell.
“They’re talking and moving about,” continued Prem. “The man got a drink, but the others did not. His shirt is untucked, and he has a long, unruly mop of curly hair. He may have been sleeping. It looks like the other three are together. Two of them are hanging back, while one woman appears to be doing all of the talking. I think she’s scolding the curly-haired man. She’s pointing at him and gesturing. She has a plain dress on. Green. Red hair hanging to her shoulders. She looks young and pretty. A bit of cosmetics but not much although it could be freckles. She’s a hand shorter than the man.”
“Is she wearing jewelry?” asked Towaal quietly, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.
“Silver bracelets, I think,” said Prem. “A necklace, but I can’t see it well.”
“How tall is she?”
Prem frowned. “It’s difficult to tell, but she could be about my height.”
Towaal grunted.
“You don’t think…” murmured Sincell, glancing at Towaal.
“The curly-haired man disappeared, went upstairs,” said Prem, her low voice droning in a constant rundown of what the people were doing.
“What does the woman’s hair look like?” interjected Towaal. “You said it was red. Is it straight, curly, what else?”
“A little curly, wavy, maybe,” answered Prem. She continued, unaware of the pained look on Towaal and Sincell’s faces. “The woman is moving about, searching the room or possibly cleaning up, which doesn’t make any sense to me. The curly-haired man is returning now. I think he changed shirts. He also has a stick or a weapon maybe. It’s long, pale.”
“This is not good,” moaned Towaal.
“Wait. You think…” Ben trailed off as he realized what Towaal and Sincell had both already understood.
“The man gave the woman the object,” continued Prem. “She’s sitting down now, examining it. Her companions have come close to look as well.”
Towaal appeared as if she was about to be sick.
“Do you want to have a glance?” asked Prem, finally sensing Towaal’s distress.
“No,” mumbled the mage. “I don’t need to.”
“She couldn’t be foolish enough to activate it here,” said Amelie, panic lacing her voice. “Even for someone as powerful as her, that’s insanity.”
“She’s probing it,” explained Towaal. “Delving into the staff.”
“The staff?” asked Prem. “What staff… Oh. I thought, I thought it’d be bigger than this. This looks like it’s only a pace long.”
“That’s it,” acknowledged Ben. “It has to be.”
“What the bloody hell are you all talking about?” asked Renfro. He shifted on his haunches, clearly annoyed that everyone else was aware of what was happening, and he was not.
“The wyvern fire staff,” explained Ben. “They think the woman is the Veil, and she’s holding the weapon we meant to retrieve.”
“Oh,” croaked Renfro. “Damn.”
“What do we do?” demanded Amelie. “We can’t let her keep it. She’s outside of the walls of the Sanctuary. We have to stop her now before she takes it back with her.”
“The figures below on the bridge,” responded Ben. “They’re the same as the guards on the street before. A hundred men, all in that tower. That can only be her guard.”
“And whoever is in the room with her,” mentioned Rhys. “Mages, I think we can assume. Not to mention, she’s holding the damn wyvern fire staff. We can’t come straight at her while she has that.”
Towaal, Amelie, and Sincell suddenly turned back to look across to the tower.
“What is happening now?” barked Towaal to Prem.
“The woman handed the staff back to the man,” described the guardian. “She is standing, settling a cloak around h
er shoulders. Her companions are sitting down, though. The man doesn’t look happy, but he is holding the staff again... Okay, she’s leaving now, but the others are staying. Are you sure that’s the Veil?”
“I’m sure,” growled Towaal. “And there is only one person that man can be.”
“When the Veil and the guards depart, we’re not going to get a better opportunity,” stated Ben. “Whatever they are doing, they don’t want it done where eyes in the Sanctuary can see it. That may change.”
“Tonight,” agreed Amelie. “It has to be tonight.”
“Wait. What are you talking about?” asked Renfro.
“Stealth or brute force?” queried Rhys, standing and methodically adjusting his weapons.
Ben studied the lit windows across from them for a long moment before finally answering, “We wait until the Veil and her guards have plenty of time to get away, and then brute force.”
A bell later, they stood in a doorway, looking at a long, wood-slatted bridge that extended out over the open air between the towers. A steady breeze blew Ben’s cloak to wrap around his legs before it twisted free and snapped in the wind.
Behind them, the click of coins sliding against each other punctuated the low hum of discussion and the tinkling laughter of working girls who implored their clients to bet a few more coins, take a little more risk.
The bridge led to the Octopus, where those girls would take their clients after they’d lost enough coin at the tables. They’d need strong spirits and consoling, which would cost them even more coin. Two wide bouncers huddled across the way and ducked back in the entry of the tower to avoid the cool breeze, paying little attention to Ben and his party. Ben knew that would change as soon as they stepped onto the bridge.
“The moment we get inside there, more men may come running,” declared Rhys. “Getting through them probably won’t be a problem. These men will be big and strong, but they’ll be used to tossing out soft-bodied highborn who can’t pay their bills. They won’t be prepared for steel. Getting back out may be an issue. There will be enough of them that even if we did try to cut our way through, it’d take us all day to reach the bottom of the tower. By then, there’s no telling what will be waiting for us.”
“What do you suggest then?” asked Renfro.
Rhys shrugged. “Nothing. I’m just saying it’s going to be a problem.”
“Then, why are we doing this?” exclaimed the small thief. “Let’s turn around while we can and come up with a real plan.”
“We have a plan,” said Ben, gripping the hilt of his longsword.
“What is it?” implored the Rat, his eyes wide.
“Smash our way in, get the staff, and then come up with a plan to escape. I have some ideas, but none of it matters unless we get that staff.”
Renfro gave Ben a flabbergasted look and babbled incoherently. Sincell placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear, trying to calm him down.
The Rat’s thugs shifted nervously, eyeing their boss, but not voicing their obvious trepidation at being involved in such a risky endeavor.
Ben tapped Rhys on the shoulder. “You go first. Use your long knives. There won’t be much room to swing a longsword.”
The rogue snorted. “This is not my first time assaulting a whorehouse, Ben. I know what I’m doing.”
Prem slipped by Ben and took a place next to Rhys.
Ben turned to the mages. “We’re going to need you, but wait until the last possible moment. Once you enter the fight, the Sanctuary could find out we’re here.”
“We know, Ben,” assured Amelie patiently.
He looked back out to the bridge and swallowed. Rhys didn’t wait for the go ahead. He and Prem stepped out and began casually strolling closer to the guards. They’d strike quickly and hopefully quietly, but they all knew it wouldn’t be long before someone sounded an alarm.
Ben waited with the others, gripping the hilt of his longsword tightly.
Near the end of the bridge, Rhys raised a hand and waved to the guards at the door. They crossed their arms and glared back at him. Suddenly, Rhys struck right, and Prem swept to the left, both of them wielding their long knives and cutting down the guards before they could respond.
As soon as he saw the guards drop, Ben started across the bridge, his stomach dropping as his boots clattered across the wooden planks. The bridge swayed, and a wave of dizziness struck him, but he kept going. Stopping wasn’t going to make it go by any quicker. In the doorway to the Octopus, Rhys was staring down at the two big bodies of the bouncers.
“Can we hide them?” asked Ben when he arrived.
The rogue shook his head and gestured to a hallway beyond the men. It was stone and lined with silver lanterns hanging from the ceiling. The floor was covered in a plush carpet. There was only one door at the far end.
“Can’t put them anywhere in there,” said Rhys, “so unless you want to toss them off the side of the bridge…”
Ben looked at Rhys grimly. “It would take at least a quarter bell for someone to walk up from the base of the tower, right? Maybe even longer if no one knew which floor the bodies came from. A quarter bell should be enough time to raid Milo’s rooms.”
The rogue smiled and bent to grab one of the dead men. “I like your style.”
With the guards disposed of at least for the moment, they scurried down the hallway, the scent of expensive oils filling Ben’s nostrils. At the far end there was a heavy wooden door studded with iron bolts and a fanciful octopus outlined in silver. The door evoked an aura of hidden mysteries and luxury, but it was also sturdy and would withstand anything short of a battering ram. There was a small window set at eye level, though, and Ben was certain someone was on the other side ready to look out.
Rhys glanced at Amelie. “You knock.”
She raised an eyebrow at him.
“Tell them you’re late for your shift,” added Rhys. He turned to Prem. “You too, but keep your right hand behind your back. It’s covered in the guard’s blood.”
Amelie sighed and pounded her fist on the door. Within heartbeats, the window slid open. The men and Towaal pressed their bodies against the wall near the door where hopefully they wouldn’t be seen. Amelie and Prem stood in the center of the hall and smiled coyly at the face on the other side.
“You don’t look like the kind of customers who come through here. What do you want?” barked a voice.
“Hi, honey, we’re late for our shift. I didn’t want to go in the normal way and get caught.”
“You’re late, huh? That is your problem, not mine.”
“We got caught at a private party,” purred Amelie. She shook her coin purse. “It was well worth whatever punishment the mistress hands out. I can make it worth it for you, too.”
Ben heard a grunt. The man paused before snarling, “You know that’s not allowed.”
“Oh, of course it isn’t,” responded Amelie, her lips forming into an oval of mock surprise. “We could get in trouble for that kind of thing… if someone found out.”
“Girl, this ain’t a private hallway, and whatever you say, I’m not leaving my post.”
Prem stepped close to Amelie and looped her arm around the former highborn’s waist. “When we work together, we can work quickly.”
She licked her lips and buried her face in Amelie’s neck. There was a pause. Then, the window in the door slid shut, and Ben heard a heavy bolt being thrown. Rhys, a grin stretching from ear to ear, stepped out and kicked the door, flinging it back against the guard. They heard the man crash to the tile floor, and Rhys rushed inside. A curse sounded from further away. The rogue’s boots pounded as he dashed across the room.
Ben followed a moment later and found himself in an oak-paneled room. The first guard was lying unconscious beside the door. Rhys was dragging a second body behind a desk where Ben saw they must check in patron’s cloaks and weapons before they proceeded further.
“Drag that body over here before you slice his throat,”
instructed Rhys. “We can stash them behind the desk. It isn’t much, but at a casual glance, maybe no one will notice anything amiss.”
Ben grabbed the man’s arms to drag him and said, “He’s not our enemy, we leave him alive.”
Rhys frowned, but didn’t object.
“Somewhere, we need to find a stairwell that goes up,” said Towaal. “I’m guessing it’s at the center of the building.”
“Let’s go,” said Ben before striding to another doorway and pulling it open.
The smell of scented oil grew stronger. It was the soft fragrance of flowers. A huge room spread out in front of him, taking up the entire width of the tower. One corner was dominated by a bar, staffed by half a dozen barmen, all dressed in spotless white. Behind them, an open doorway which Ben guessed would lead to stairs. No way they could get there without being seen.
The floor of the room was covered in low couches, silk partitions, and scantily clad women. They hovered around several dozen men who lounged alone or in small groups. The girls were feeding the men cheeses and fruits, fetching drinks, topping off water pipes, and cuddling up close to them. In the center of the room was a giant column that supported the structure and likely housed the main stairs.
“Ben,” hissed Rhys. “We’d better try to blend in. Wink at the girls or something.”
Amelie snorted, and Ben stared at his friend.
“I’m not sure this is a good time for jokes,” he said.
“Who said it was a joke?” asked Rhys. He then pointed to the center of the room. “That’s where we want to go. We need to attract as little attention as possible on the walk over.”
Attempting to appear like he belonged, Ben sauntered into the room. At first, no one paid them any mind. It seemed patrons would come, find a comfortable seat, and then the girls would begin to flock. He saw them watching, judging where they would sit, and who would be the closest to their party. The women in their group got some strange looks, but Ben saw at least a few women who didn’t appear to be working scattered around the room.
