The Alabaster Staff r-1

by Edward Bolme

  Her evasive strategy betrayed her when the alley branch she'd chosen slithered around an amateur wooden structure and dead-ended in a tall mud-brick wall. There was a heavy wooden door, but it had neither an external latch nor even a viewing slit by which she might hope to plead admittance.

  She retreated back the way she'd come, hoping she hadn't lost too much time. She slowed as she reached the place where the branch spurred off the alley. She listened intently, opening her mouth to improve her hearing. Footsteps approached.

  "I think we've lost her," said one voice, a youngster by the sound of it.

  "I don't care," replied a second, less cultured voice. "We're gonna keep looking."

  "Whatever," said the first.

  "Hey, Pupface, don't forget the Zhentarim said they'd match the bounty on her head. We stand to earn mint-weight, especially if we find her before Chariq gets back from searching that other spur."

  "You think she'd be dumb enough to go into a blind alley?" asked the youth.

  "Dumb enough to kill a Zhent," said the older man with a grim chuckle. "And if dumb buys my grog and wenches, then she's dumb enough for me."

  "Absolutely."

  Kehrsyn realized that fear and curiosity had rooted her to the spot like a hare transfixed by a cobra. The guards drew close, close enough that if she tried to move away quietly, they'd probably see her; but if she moved away quickly, they'd hear her. Either way, they'd pursue… but standing there thinking about it made each option less likely to succeed. Kehrsyn turned and ran hard back toward the dead end, counting on surprise to give her enough of a lead.

  With a foul oath, the two guards gave chase, their armor clanking in the narrow confines of the alley. Kehrsyn ran to the end, and just as she turned the last corner, she started scrambling up the wooden structure. It wasn't easy. The planks were vertical, not horizontal, and slick with rain, but the few haphazard supporting members that angled across the wall gave enough of a foothold to help her ascend.

  She heard the guards turn the corner beneath her. Her sudden disappearance flustered them for a mere moment, but enough precious time for her to reach up and hook her fingers over a windowsill above her head. She prayed the sill was sturdy enough to support her weight and she pulled herself up as quickly as she could. The sill made a slight cracking sound, and Kehrsyn hoped it was simply the wood settling under her weight. She scrabbled with her feet to get any amount of elevation she could.

  "Up there!" shouted the younger guard.

  "Get 'er, curse you!" growled the elder.

  The fear of getting her foot cut off by a khopesh renewed her strength, and she pulled herself up farther.

  "Curse it! Jump, Pupface, she's gettin' away!"

  Kehrsyn kept her ears tuned as she climbed. When she heard Pupface grunt with exertion, she raised her heels.

  She heard the silky whisper of a blade slicing the air and felt a tug as the sharpened tip of the khopesh sliced her leather boot midway up her right shin.

  She put the windowsill to good use and scrambled farther up, out of reach of the guards.

  "Get up after her!" shouted the elder guard, striking the younger a cuff across the helmet that resounded in the narrow alley. "Now, or I'll throw you up there myself!"

  Kehrsyn scrambled up onto a de facto balcony atop the second story of the structure. Pulling her cloak across her face, she peered back down at the two guards. The younger one was beginning a tentative and fearful climb after her. He probed the wall with his hands, trying to discover handholds that were more secure than the ones that Kehrsyn had used. Kehrsyn had to smile. There were no good holds to be offered by rough-hewn, poorly assembled, thinly cut, rain-slicked wood.

  She waited until the guard looked up again, then said, "I have a large rock up here that I could drop on you, and it's a long fall back to the ground. If you give up now, your head and back will stay in one piece."

  The guard nodded almost imperceptibly and began scanning the wall for a safe way back down.

  The elder guard thrust the tip of his khopesh under the younger guard's armored skirt and growled, "It takes more than a few bones to make a man, Pupface."

  Kehrsyn saw the younger guard grow rigid, his face twitching in a rictus of fear and pain. His breathing grew in speed and volume. He looked back at Kehrsyn and his eyes narrowed in pleading desperation. He began to climb again.

  Kehrsyn wondered if he was deliberately trying to climb slowly enough to give her a chance to escape before she'd have to drop a rock on him. Not that she had one, but bluffs were the most effective when they played right into someone's fears.

  "Well, then," she said, "I'll just wait until you're almost up to drop it on you. I can wait." She waved at the elder guard. "Will you be next, or does your protege have more manliness than you?"

  "You may act brave, you murdering thief," he spat, "but we'll see what happens when we catch you."

  "Yeah, you're plenty brave to force someone to climb something when you haven't got the guts to do it yourself. I'll bet when you were in his position, you just climbed back down and let them cut yours right off, am I right?"

  "You little-arrrggh!" bellowed the elder guard. "Come on, Pupface, she's only got one rock up there!"

  As Kehrsyn had hoped, the elder guard started to climb also.

  With the two guards climbing after her, Kehrsyn's confidence grew again. She had feared that they would circumvent her escape if she fled across the rooftops, but she'd managed to coax them into taking the hard route: difficult climbs and long jumps in armor. Kehrsyn saw that there was one more story to both the wooden structure and the much older stone building against which it leaned. She climbed up the wooden wall and clambered onto the roof of the stone building.

  It was one of the huge, ancient structures of Messemprar, one that had, millennia ago, been someone's palatial home. Since it was in the poorer section of town, Kehrsyn surmised that it had likely been subdivided again and again, and served to house a wide variety of families and businesses. She saw empty clotheslines and rubbish scattered over the large, flat roof, along with a large fire pit and several trapdoors that led into the monolithic building. Not that that was any help. Those who lived in that part of town would be plenty happy to turn in a fugitive for a reward. For that matter, in these dark days, anyone in town would. Rewards meant gold, and gold meant food.

  Kehrsyn moved across the rooftop, scouting out the perimeter of the roof. Two sides fronted on large thoroughfares, ancient streets wide enough for eight chariots to ride abreast. The third side looked dangerous, a long jump reliant on the undependable footing of recent construction. The fourth side looked like it had a reasonable jump, one that was only foolhardy as opposed to downright suicidal. She located a likely landing spot, then stepped back to get a good running jump. Behind her, she heard the cursing of the older guard rising from the alley like a stench, followed by a triumphant cry from the one called Pupface.

  Kehrsyn untied her scabbard from her belt and pulled her bag's strap from her shoulder. She took a deep breath, steeled her mind to her task, then began to run. Her ears heard Pupface call out for her to stop, but her mind paid no heed. She leaped from the rooftop across the narrow side street, holding her arms out to the side and pinwheeling them once for stability. Time seemed to dilate for her, and she could feel each drop of chill rain brushing her skin as she arced between the buildings. Each ripple of cloth reminded her that she had a long fall beneath her.

  For as slow as time seemed to move, the opposite rooftop closed in quickly. Kehrsyn let go of her bag and scabbard and pulled her hands back close. She tried to tuck her legs in, but her feet hit the edge of the roof just below her ankles, and she sprawled painfully on the uneven split-log roof, flopping once over one shoulder with her momentum. She felt like she couldn't breathe, felt like she was going to throw up. Mouth hanging open, she looked around and located her sword and bag, both of which appeared to have landed in better shape than she had. As she picked them up, she hear
d the guards' telltale whistle again.

  Looking back, she saw Pupface running across the rooftop toward her, frantically blowing a signal. He reached the edge of the rooftop and looked down.

  "You!" he yelled, pointing with his khopesh. "Hey! Zhentilars! She's up there! Don't let her get away!"

  Kehrsyn saw a squad of Zhent guards in the street, staring up at her, eight or more in number. One issued a string of orders, and the pack fanned out to seal off the building, moving swiftly like a pack of wolves.

  Several other people stood nearby, also looking up at Kehrsyn, but one woman in particular caught the fugitive's eye. The woman waved cheerily.

  "Olare, hon," she said, fiddling with her ring.

  Kehrsyn turned and fled across the rooftop, heart pounding.

  Kehrsyn knew she couldn't stay on the rooftop. The longer she did, the more time the Zhentarim and the guards had to seal off the building. Her only hope was to get off the rooftop as soon as possible and lose the pursuit in the streets below. She ran straight across the center of the jumbled collection of rooftops, looking for the telltale gap of an alleyway spur.

  She found one, and, knowing that she had not the leisure to find a better, she looked for the quickest way down. No decent choices offered themselves. She hopped down to a lower roof. Before she could think about it too much, she hopped the rest of the way to the uneven alley floor.

  Kehrsyn hit hard, trying to tumble to ease the impact, but she felt a ripping, popping sensation tear through her right leg and ankle. She felt no pain, but her foot felt loose, almost unhinged. She pushed herself up, keeping her right foot off the ground, and shifted herself to a sitting position. She scrunched up her eyes and brought her ankle around to take a look at it A limp foot, dangling from her shin like a dead fish, was what she expected to see. Instead, she saw her boot flayed open, laces burst asunder from ankle to knee. A bright scar of cut leather ran from the outside of her ankle upward, then reappeared near the inside of the top.

  It struck Kehrsyn what had happened: Pupface's khopesh had grazed her leather boot, slicing along the laces, cutting into them, but not quite all the way through. The added stress of her last jump had burst them. The surprise and relief was so great that a giggle bubbled up from her throat.

  She heard a sudden scuffing step up the alley, then silence. Kehrsyn's cold fear returned. She froze, trapped in the dead end of a narrow alley. She opened her mouth to aid her hearing-could she hear someone coming closer? It was hard to tell… until she heard the splash of a puddle being disturbed. She quietly picked up her rapier and bag and tried to scoot into an inset doorway to hide. As quiet as her movements were, she heard the footsteps pause.

  For untold pounding heartbeats, she dared not move, dared not even to breathe lest the mist of her breath give her away.

  The footsteps turned and scooted away. Kehrsyn held her breath until she heard them no longer, then let the air out in a heart-pounding, trembling heave. She tried to breathe deeply and quietly in hopes of stilling her heart and frazzled nerves. Whichever guard or bounty hunter that had been, her hunters were still out there, so she couldn't leave just yet. Instead, she pulled out the longest scrap of leather thong she had left in her boot and used it to tie her boot tight across the ankle and again across the top. It was serviceable, if uncomfortable.

  She hid for a while longer, then began to creep out, wondering if she could make an escape. She found that the alley she'd jumped into was a short branch off a minor paved street. Not good. She inched closer to the mouth of the alley, listening intently.

  She heard boots pacing slowly along and voices quietly speaking a foreign tongue. She quickly moved back down the narrow passage to her scant hiding place, but as she pulled her rapier in beside her, the tip of her scabbard scraped on the stone doorframe.

  She heard the voices pause. They spoke again, some sort of interrogative. She heard the whispering sound of steel being drawn, then the scuff of feet moving into the alley.

  Kehrsyn pulled a tiny mirror from a secret pocket at her waist and used it to peer around the side of the doorway. Two black-tabarded swordsmen moved slowly down the alley, peering into windows, doorways, and barrels, as well as scanning the walls and ledges above them.

  There was no way out. Kehrsyn hadn't a clue what to do. She fingered her rapier… If I'm going to suffer for killing one of these bullies, she thought, I might as well actually do it. Deep inside, however, she wasn't certain she could.

  She watched them draw closer and saw that they were too cautious for her to be able to ambush one of them. Just as that realization crossed her mind, she saw something move at the open end of the alley. The guards turned just in time to see a cloaked figure vanish from sight behind them. They looked at each other, startled and confused, then somewhere nearby the keening cry of the guards' whistle started again. The two sprinted from the alley to pursue, blowing their whistles in response.

  Kehrsyn sagged against the wall and let herself drop to the ground. She didn't care that the cold rain soaked its way through the seat of her skirt and into her leggings. Kehrsyn could hear the guards' whistles moving farther and farther away through the city. She didn't know who or what those Zhents had chased, but in all likelihood it had saved her virtue and her life. Not knowing what else to do, she reached around, found her pear still in her sash, and took it out. For some reason, it no longer looked appetizing, so she let her hand droop over her knee.

  She hung her head and let silent tears of relief trickle off her nose and join the cold rain that slicked the grimy street.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ruzzara stalked the rooftops, cursing the luck that had her chasing a reluctant recruit through near-freezing rain. The throbbing chill in her feet had not abated when she'd put her boots back on. In fact, the dampness of her feet had balled up the lint in her stockings, making them even less comfortable.

  Her feet slid out from under her on the slanting rooftop, dropping her hard onto her left hip. Despite the fact that her legs slid most of the way off the rooftop, dangling over empty space, she appeared merely inconvenienced. She stood back up, muttering an inventive string of rural invectives and rubbing her hip.

  Ruzzara had seen the confusion in Hooper's Alley, seen how a premature whistle had sent the city guard, the deputized brute squad, and a hopeful bounty hunter all running in the wrong direction, chasing their own alarm like a stampede of maddened bulls.

  She wasn't sure how the young lass had done it, but it was very clever. In fact, Ruzzara hadn't expected the young girl to do that well at all. She'd thought the guards would have long since taken care of the "murdering thief," forever concealing Ruzzara's role in the killing. Instead, she searched in the rain, trying to find the thief again.

  Ruzzara wasn't sure where the thief had holed up, but she figured circumnavigating the block on the rooftops would flush her out eventually. Ruzzara peered down into the alleys as she sauntered along, looking for motion or likely hiding places. She hoped she'd be able to find the vagrant, whose fear of Ruzzara's power made her a useful tool and whose evident skill made her an effective weapon.

  She found her, sitting on a stoop. Ruzzara smiled with relief, then her face darkened into a frown. The young lady was down on the ground, while Ruzzara was on top of the roof, three stories above.

  She contemplated using her magic to spider climb down the wall, but her digits were only just starting to tingle with returning sensation. She had no desire to pull off her gloves and boots and press her numb hands and feet to the cold, wet stones yet again.

  She had a better idea, more comfortable… and more dramatic, besides. She had long before purchased a ring-a magical circle of silver-that protected her from dangerous falls by floating her slowly to earth. She'd bought it for protection, a magical safety net, but it occurred to her to use it aggressively. She rocked it back and forth on her middle finger with her thumb. It was an unconscious habit. So much wealth tied up in one little object made her check its presen
ce almost continually.

  Ruzzara moved as quietly as possible along the rooftop until she was opposite the young thief who cried quietly in the alley. Fidgeting with the ring to reassure herself, she crouched down and let herself lean forward. As she felt herself start to fall, she pushed off the rooftop gently, quietly. Just as her heart started to thrill with instinctive panic, her senses realized that she wasn't accelerating; she was descending at the speed of a brisk walk. It was an unnerving sensation.

  As she drifted downward, Ruzzara pinwheeled her arms once to right herself, then put her hands on her hips and assumed a cocky and arrogant stance. She landed with a light sound of crunching dirt not three feet in front of her quarry.

  The young woman jerked her head up in fear, staring wide-eyed at the sorceress through a veil of haggard, damp hair. She gasped in recognition, and her mouth flapped in silent amazement.

  "Well, at least I know you can stay silent," said Ruzzara. The young woman glanced down the alley and back at her. "Oh, come on, hon, don't look so shocked," added Ruzzara. "You think the guild lets anyone in if they can't sneak around?"

  The young woman held up her hands placatingly, one hand spread wide and the other still ridiculously clutching her half-eaten pear. When the thief noticed that she still held the pear, she quickly hid that hand behind her.

  She stammered a few faltering words, saying, "Please, I-please don't-I mean, I'll… just don't call the guards, please…?"

  "Give it a rest, will ya, hon?" said Ruzzara. "You think I want to call them guards back here to barge in on our little private time? No thanks. You know, you got a friend out there, hon, I'd say you do."

  "A friend?"

  "I saw what happened. You done good, hon, moved like a regular alley cat, but I'd say Mask, God of Thieves, has a soft spot in his larcenous heart for little ol' you."

  "What do you mean?"

  "I sure wish I knew how you done did it, hon, I really do. I swear you were stewed like a rabbit, when all of a sudden you got the whole gaggle of guards galloping off in the whole wrong direction. Showed up just a bit too late to see your trick, but that was slick, hon, real slick."