Clad in what she referred to as her work outfit—all black, form fitting clothes that were a sharp contrast to her typical eye-catching ensembles—Lhasha quickly disappeared into the darkness that engulfed the top of the ladder. Corin knew she was still there, and still moving, but her graceful ascent allowed her to naturally blend into the soft shadows of the night.
After a moment’s delay, Corin followed with more difficulty. In part, his progress was slowed by his handicap, but even more debilitating was his fear of heights. Despite his best efforts not to look down, Corin was well aware of the empty space yawning beneath him. With each step up, he had to make sure both feet were firmly planted on rungs of the same level before he dared to release the grip of his one good hand. Even with his amputated arm wrapped tightly around the metal pole, he felt as if he was on the verge of toppling over each time he let go of the ladder to reach for the next rung. The sensation of the ladder wobbling beneath his awkward, jerky movements did little to alleviate his fears.
By the time he finally reached the top, Lhasha had used the shears to cut through the wire mesh over the ventilation chimney, and had already attached the spreader to the iron bars that blocked the opening. Corin could hear the groaning of the bars as the metal became fatigued from the stress being applied by Fendel’s invention.
Lhasha grunted softly with each turn of the screw, obviously it was hard, slow work. The air was still cool during these first few nights of the Sunsets, but Corin could see tiny beads of perspiration on Lhasha’s forehead, the result of her efforts to try to bend the iron bars.
“Glad you made it,” she said between breaths, noticing Corin standing above her. “Maybe you could give this contraption a try, while I collapse the ladder.”
Corin nodded, still a little winded from the climb up. It hadn’t been physically demanding, but he had been holding his breath virtually the whole way.
He turned his attention to the bar spreader. Lhasha had clamped it onto two of the bars as Fendel had shown them, now it was simply a matter of turning the handle. With only one hand, Corin couldn’t get the same leverage as Lhasha, but his superior strength more than compensated for the mechanical disadvantage. By the time Lhasha had the collapsible ladder stowed away in her backpack again, Corin had bent the bars enough to open a hole several feet wide. The mortars holding the iron bars in place had begun to crack and disintegrate into dust as the bars warped and twisted. Corin gave a few more turns to the handle to weaken the stone foundations holding the bars in place, then yanked the entire mess—the spreader and the bars it was clamped to—out of the ventilation chimney, sending a small shower of dust onto the warehouse floor fifty feet below.
“That should do,” Lhasha commented. With the bars removed, the chimney was easily wide enough for even Corin to slip through.
The chimney led them into the exposed rafters that crisscrossed the upper reaches of the warehouse, supporting the structure from inside. The floor below them was bustling with activity, even at this late hour—confirming Corin’s suspicions about the illicit nature of the inventory stored there. Lamps and torches from the warehouse floor provided a flickering, half-illumination of the roof. Not enough to expose Corin and Lhasha, but enough to allow Corin to see the narrow beams they would have to crawl across. Unfortunately for Corin, the dim glow also emphasized how far a fall it was from his precarious perch.
“Why don’t you wait here,” Lhasha whispered. “I’ll scout things out from up top.”
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Corin warned, wrapping his arms and legs tightly around an intersection of the beams. “Remember why you brought me.”
“I’ll come back to get you before I head down to the floor,” Lhasha promised.
She set off along one of the narrow beams, and again Corin could only marvel at the self-assured ease with which she maneuvered through the rafters.
Lhasha wasn’t even aware of the thousands of intricate movements her muscles made to keep her perfectly balanced on the four inch wide wooden struts fifty feet above the warehouse floor. Every step was instinctive, every compensating motion unconscious.
She cast a quick glance over her shoulder at Corin, clinging to the beams like a drowning man to a piece of jetsam in a storming sea. Lhasha allowed herself a quick smile. She had seen him in action, she knew he wasn’t clumsy or awkward. Put a sword in his hand and Corin moved with the grace of a dancer, but get him more than ten feet off the ground.…
Lhasha turned her attention to the floor below. Men were scurrying about, loading and unloading caravan wagons, moving boxes and crates from one side of the warehouse to the other. In a corner she noticed a group of men gathered together, standing idle. She scampered across the rafters until she was directly over them, then put on the earring Fendel had given her.
“… think I’m going to go ask the foreman about it? Not for all the gold on the Dragon Coast,” one of the workers said.
“You don’t need to ask,” another replied. “I’m telling you what I heard. There’s someone in the stone room. That’s why all the secrecy. Someone nobody’s supposed to know about is hiding out in there.”
“Some thing, you mean. I get a chill anytime I go near the place. It ain’t natural,” a third voice added.
The first voice laughed nervously.
“True enough. The supervisor didn’t need to tell me the stone room is off limits. I won’t go within ten yards of that corner of the warehouse anymore. No one will.”
“Berg did.”
The nervous laugh again.
“Yeah, Berg was always the stupid one. Had to go check it out for himself.”
“And look what happened,” the second voice said. “Berg hasn’t been seen in a tenday. Whatever he found scared him so bad he ran off without even collecting his back wages.”
“That’s the official story, but we all know it’s crap. If Berg was still alive, he’d have come back by now.”
There was a long second of silence.
“I wish to Lathander that they had never delivered that package, whatever it is.”
Lhasha took the enchanted jewelry from her ear. From her vantage point, she could scan the entire layout of the warehouse. In a far corner she noticed that an area had been sectioned off from the main floor by a wall of stacked crates. Inside this area were several piles of barrels and boxes, and a small building built right inside the larger warehouse.
The tiny building couldn’t have been more than ten feet on a side, and less than ten feet tall. From the color of the roof and walls, Lhasha knew this had to be the stone room the men were talking about.
She crawled back to where Corin was still firmly anchored among the rafters. His good hand was holding on so tight, the knuckles were white.
“There’s a small area cordoned off in the back. There’s a tiny building in there made all of stone. I’ll bet my career earnings that our package is inside that building. Since the area’s blocked off, I can use Fendel’s ladder to climb down from the rafters on the far side of the barricade. Nobody will even know I’m here.”
“Sounds simple,” Corin said, keeping his eyes locked on Lhasha, and safely averted from the floor below.
“Maybe, but whatever’s in that room, the workers want no part of it. I heard them talking about one of them who went to investigate and never came back. The foreman probably caught him snooping around and took care of it,” she surmised. “I bet there’s more than a few bodies buried beneath the crates in this place.”
Corin nodded.
Lhasha continued, “Still, it might be a good idea to have you watching my back when I check this room out. That is, if you think you can handle crawling through the rafters to get there.”
Corin gave her a sour glare.
“I can handle it. You just lead the way.”
“I’ll go nice and slow,” Lhasha said with a smile.
Much to Corin’s relief, Lhasha set a very languid pace. It took them nearly ten minutes to reach the back of t
he warehouse. Once beyond the wall of crates separating the area surrounding the small stone building, Lhasha quickly snapped Fendel’s ladder together piece by piece until it reached the floor.
“I’ll go first,” Corin said. “If there are any surprises down there, I want them to have to go through me. If a fight breaks out, just stay out of the way.”
“I’m not completely incompetent,” Lhasha protested.
“You brought me along to handle the guards,” Corin explained, “and I’ll have an easier time with them if I don’t have to worry about keeping you safe during the battle.” He cut off further discussion by adding, “Remember what you said earlier: don’t argue with the expert.”
Gingerly, Corin stepped off the rafter and onto Fendel’s collapsible ladder.
“At least if you fall, you won’t squish me on the way down,” Lhasha teased.
“Not funny,” Corin growled. “Wait up here till I give you the all clear.”
With a deep breath, Corin began his agonizingly slow descent, carefully guarding against any possibility of a slip that would send him plunging to floor below.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
From a hidden corner a pair of malevolent eyes followed the warrior’s progress. Coiled in the shadows between the boxes and crates the watcher studied him, and flicked its lips with a forked tongue. The watcher could hear his thoughts, and it knew there was another. A female, waiting up above. They were here to steal the package the watcher protected. That would not happen.
The man was nervous, the watcher sensed. He feared a trap. Yet still he came down. Foolish, like most humans.
The male reached the ground. Look left, look right, his thoughts said, check for guards. But he couldn’t see the watcher lurking in the darkness.
The urge to leap out and strike was there, but the watcher would not yield to the temptation of the quick kill. It knew patience. It would wait for the other, then kill them both.
The warrior stood very still, then tilted his head, listening. The watcher remained as still as a statue, giving no clue to betray its presence.
At last the male waved a hand and called up in a whisper, “All clear, Lhasha.”
The female quickly joined her companion on the floor. Her thoughts were free of the unease that plagued her companion; the watcher sensed this female was excited and curious. I can’t wait to see what this package is, she thought. The watcher knew the female’s curiosity would be her death.
It had been many days since the watcher’s last meal—another overly curious human, a warehouse worker named Berg. Since then, none had dared come beyond the wall of crates. Even the rats and vermin avoided this area. And the watcher had been forbidden by the master to go out into the rest of the warehouse to hunt. Now the hunt had come to it. Two thieves caught in the act. Two meals for the taking. The small one looked tender and sweet, the large looked hearty and filling.
The watcher briefly considered unleashing a blast of magical fire to incinerate the intruders, but quickly passed up the idea. The fire could spread about the building. At the very least it would draw the attention of the workers—something the watcher was forbidden to do. Plus, cooked meat was tough and tasteless. The best food was fresh.
With a whisper of scales on scales, the watcher crept ever so slowly toward them, relishing the coming slaughter. The noise went unnoticed by the two intruders.
Slithering around a pile of bones and tough leather boots—the indigestible remains of the unfortunate Berg—the watcher moved to the edge of the shadows and waited. Its days were filled with numbing tedium. It had long ago grown bored with the assignment. Now it was curious to see what the thieves would do next. It would toy with them as it had toyed with Berg.
“How’s it coming?” the male asked, as the female carefully scanned the area around the door. Her head dipped as she surveyed the floor, then tilted slowly back as her focus climbed the length of the door.
“These things take time, Corin. You don’t want me setting off an alarm, do you?”
“An alarm?” the male asked.
“I don’t see one yet,” she admitted, “but if this package is worth the fee we’ve been paid, there has to be something besides nasty rumors and a wall of crates to keep those workers out.”
“I was sure there’d be more guards,” the male agreed. “Maybe they’re inside, just waiting for us to open the door.”
“Hold on, I’ll check.” The female finished her scan of the door, confident there were no trip wires or other devices to set off a warning. The watcher laughed silently. They were so cautious, so careful. Yet they were oblivious to the true threat, the creature that would feast on their flesh. Their doom hovered not twenty feet away, but their attention was on a harmless door.
The female leaned forward and carefully placed her ear against the door, listening for signs of life on the other side. Again, the watcher was still as stone.
“I don’t hear anything. I think we’re safe. Let me get my pick out,” she added, standing up and turning to face her companion. “I’ll start on the lock.”
Then she froze.
“Corin,” she whispered at last. “There’s something in the shadows behind you. A snake, I think. A big one.”
The watcher spat on the floor in disgust. The female could see her through the blackness, sensing the temperature of the watcher’s cold blooded body against the slightly warmer background of the wooden crates.
“Don’t move,” the male whispered back. “I’ll draw it out.”
He did a slow pivot to face the watcher, and began to tap his foot on the floor in a soft, arrhythmic motion.
The watcher sneered. They thought it was an animal, an ignorant beast driven by instinct. They were fools.
The watcher began an incantation, its sibilant voice weaving words of power in the air. A simple spell, yet effective. A magic shield to hide it from sight—even from the damnable heat sensitive vision of the female.
“Wait, Corin. It’s gone now. It just sort of … disappeared.”
The watcher began a second spell. A charm to put the thieves to sleep while it devoured their living bodies. It would gorge itself on their beating hearts, pumping and spurting blood from their still warm corpses until only swords, boots, and a small pile of bones remained.
“Sssleep,” the watcher hissed as it finished the spell. The male drooped his head, the female shut her eyes, but only for a brief second. With a start they both snapped awake. They were strong. Stronger than the watcher first expected. Perhaps here was an adversary worthy of destroying—unlike that pathetic snoop Berg.
“Did you feel that?” the female asked. “For a second I was so tired I nearly passed out on my feet.”
“Magic,” the large one said, his voice louder than before. “There’s more than just a snake hiding in those shadows.”
“Wait, Corin. I see it again. In the corner. It’s huge.”
Casting the sleeping charm had nullified the watcher’s protective spell of invisibility. The female thief could see it again, but the male still peered hopelessly into the darkness.
With another litany of arcane chanting, the watcher quickly cast a third spell—one to keep its opponents from communicating and coordinating their attacks.
The male tried to speak to his female companion, asking her to point him in the right direction. Only oppressive silence came from his lips. Desperation flashed in the warrior’s eyes, and the watcher heard the words, More sorcery. We’re sitting ducks! shoot through his mind. With a soundless scream, the male leaped to attack.
He launched himself into the shadows, scattering crates and boxes in a noiseless vacuum of carnage as he tried to flush his unseen opponent into the light. But he attacked without direction, and he was nowhere near his target. The female pointed to the watcher, and tried to call out, but her warning went unheard, and unheeded, swallowed up in the magical blanket of silence that engulfed them both.
Amused at the antics of its prey, the watcher at first did
nothing as the male flailed away in his futile search, and the female tried in vain to attract his attention and point out their enemy. Soon the watcher grew bored, and slithered out from its hiding place to slay the intruders. The hunt was over, soon the feasting would begin.
The female let out a soundless shriek as the watcher closed in.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Corin had a bad feeling about this job. Right from the start, his instincts had been screaming that something was wrong. Coming down the ladder the feeling intensified. He brushed it aside. His fear of heights was probably just making him hypersensitive. But even when he reached the solid reassurance of the warehouse floor, the feeling persisted.
Someone was watching them, waiting for them. He took a quick peek left and right, but couldn’t see anyone. The area around the stone room was dim and shrouded in shadows. The wall of crates blocked off much of the light from the lamps and torches of the main warehouse. Corin squinted into the darkness—a small army could be hiding in amongst the crates, and he might not even see them.
So instead he listened. It was almost impossible for a group of men to crouch in a hidey hole and stay completely motionless for any length of time. He listened for the sound of a faint cough, a sniffle, a shuffling of boots or the metallic chink of armor caused by a hand scratching a nose. He waited for nearly a minute, hearing nothing, and still he felt he was being watched, but there was nothing there. At last he motioned for his companion to come down.
“All clear, Lhasha.”
Lhasha scampered down the ladder with an eager agility that made Corin cringe. He knew she was excited. She was dying to know what the mysterious package was. Corin just wanted to get it and get the hell out.
Lhasha flashed him a sly grin, trying to ease his tension. Corin ignored it, and kept scanning the shadows. C’mon, Lhasha, he thought. Let’s get moving.
“How’s it coming?” he asked, his voice betraying his impatience.
“These things take time, Corin,” she answered. “You don’t want me setting off an alarm, do you?”
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