William said, “Anyone using it these days?”
“Besides Lucas? I don’t know. There aren’t many alive today who have been down there who aren’t in the Prince’s service. Maybe the Mockers have discovered those storage rooms.”
They entered a larger conduit and the sound of rushing water grew louder. “Walk carefully here,” warned James.
They entered a large rotunda, with six tunnels branching off, like spokes on a wheel. Above them, smaller pipes emptied out into the circular area and filthy water splashed down below them. They moved cautiously in single file on the narrow walkway along the wall, for the stones around the deep hole were encrusted with slippery filth. As they passed the second of the larger tunnels, William asked, “Where do these lead?”
“Each leads to a different portion of the city,” said James. He paused and pointed to one of the tunnels on the opposite side of the gallery. “That one over there leads back toward the palace. Some prince, years ago, decided to make the sewers more efficient, I guess. There’s an old cistern up there” – he pointed upward to the darkness - “and it was supposed to release water every night to help flush out the sewers. Don’t know if it ever worked the way it was supposed to, but . . .” He resumed walking. “I don’t know anyone who remembers it being used. Lots of merchants just dig their own tunnels to the sewer when they start up their shops. The royal engineers have maps, but most of them are outdated, useless.” Almost to himself he added, “That would be something worth doing, updating those maps and requiring people to inform the Crown when they make changes.”
They entered the third large tunnel anfl James said, “Be cautious. We’re entering Mocker territory.”
A short time later this tunnel emptied into a smaller circular area, with two more tunnels entering a third of the way up on either side, forming a “Y” intersection. An old man stood near the intersection, holding a long stick that he used to poke at floating debris.
William began to draw his sword slowly, but James reached back and stayed his friend’s hand. “It’s just an old toffsman, named Rat-Tail Jack.”
“Toffsman?” whispered Jazhara.
“He scavenges for items of value. You’d be amazed at what can turn up down here.”
Slowly James walked into view and said, “Good day, Jack.”
The man turned. “Jimmy, as I live and breathe. Been some years.”
Upon closer inspection, the man was of middle age, stoop-shouldered, and slender. His hair was matted and filthy, of indeterminate color. He had a receding chin and large eyes, and they were fixed upon James and his two companions.
“Playing lookout, I see,” James said, flashing a grin.
The man stopped the pretense of poking at the sludge. “You know the trade too well, me old son.”
“What’s up in the wind?”
“Bloody murder and a bunch of lunatic treasure hunters. Been a handful of lads taken to the temples for healing already. Word’s been passed to shut down the Thieves’ Highway.”
Jimmy said, “So I guess that means I’m supposed to turn around and go back.”
“Even you, old son.” The man pointed to the other two tunnels. “Bashers are waiting. You’d best go no further. That’s Mockers territory. The big ‘rats’ down there will have you for supper, they will.”
“Not for old time’s sake?”
“Not even that, Jimmy me lad. You got the death mark lifted, I hear, but you’re still not one of the Dodgy Brotherhood and when the Thieves’ Highway is closed, only Mockers can pass.”
William whispered, “Is there another way?”
James replied, “Too long. We’ll have to try to talk our way past whoever’s ahead.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” asked Jazhara.
James said, “We fight.” He turned back to Jack. “We’re looking for Lucas. Seen or heard anything from him?”
“He’s hiding out, boy, somewhere down here, but I can’t lead you to him.”
“What about Bear?” asked William. “Any word of him?”
“There’s a bad one,” said Jack. “He was down here a few days ago looking for something. Killed a few of the boys. We put the death mark on him.”
“He’s marked by the Crown, as well,” said James.
“Still don’t make the Mockers and Crown friends, old son,” said Jack.
James said, “Who’s in charge over there?”
“Bosun Mace.”
James shook his head. Bosun Mace had been a sailor in the King’s Fleet who had been whipped out of service for thieving. He had joined the Mockers to put his talents to more profitable use. He was a bully, short tempered, and had never liked James when the boy had been a Mocker. He had been one of the few men who had been friends with Laughing Jack, a Basher whom James killed for making a failed attempt on the Prince’s life.
“It’s going to be a nasty fight,” said James to his companions.
Rat-Tail Jack said, “Doesn’t have to be, lad, if you use that fabled wit of yours. There’s always something that can be traded for, old son.”
“Such as?” asked Jazhara.
Jack said, “Go talk to Mace and when he starts to threaten you, ask him who’s been chewing up his lads. That’ll get his attention.”
“Thanks, Jack,” said James. He motioned for his companions to move forward. They took the tunnel to the left and as they did so, Jack let out a shrill whistle.
“What was that?” asked William.
“Jack’s taking care of himself,” said James. “If he didn’t call out the alarm, the Bashers would think he was in league with us.”
A short distance later they reached a widening of the tunnel and from along both sides of the wall men stepped into view, surrounding the trio. There were a half-dozen of them, all armed. A large gray-haired man in front stepped forward into the torchlight.
After a moment he smiled. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Jowls covered with stubble hung from a head that seemed a size too big for anything human. His eyes looked as much like a pig’s as a man’s. A bulbous nose that had been broken too many times to recall was the centerpiece of his malformed visage.
“Well, Jimmy the Hand,” said the large man, slapping his left hand with the long sap he held in his right. “You looking for some pain, boy?”
“Looking to talk, Mace.”
“I always thought you talked too much, even when you was one of us, you little snot.” With that he shouted, “Get ‘em, lads!” and swung his billy club at James’s head.
FIVE
Monsters
James ducked.
The billy club split the air above his head as he shouted, “Mace! Wait! We need to talk!”
Jazhara had her staff at the ready and William brandished his sword, but both held off from engaging the approaching thieves until a blow was delivered.
“I’ll talk to you,” answered Mace, swinging again at the elusive former thief, “with this!”
“Who’s been chewing up your Bashers?” shouted James as he avoided a third swing.
The large man stopped, holding his club high above his head in preparation for another blow. “What you know about that, boy?”
James kept his distance. “I hear things.”
Suddenly the man looked worried, and James knew that something grave must have occurred, for as long as he had known Mace the Bosun, the man had never shown fear or doubt. Mace lowered his billy and held up his free hand to signal the other thieves to stop their advance.
“All right, then,” he said at last. “What have you heard?”
“Just that someone — or something — has been grabbing your men and leaving them . . .” James was bluffing. He knew no details, but reckoned that what Rat-Tail Jack had referred to was in some way connected to the “monsters” Simon had described at the Rainbow Parrot. And the old toffsman’s advice about bringing up this topic had proved accurate so far.
“Mangled,” said one of the other thieves.
“Ma
ngled,” repeated James.
“It’s fair disgustin‘,” said another thief. “Looks like they’d been gnawed on, like a dog does wit’ a bone, you know, Squire?”
Others nodded.
“Where?” asked James.
“That’s the thing,” said Mace. “One place, then another -there’s no rhyme or reason to it. You never know.”
“How long has this been going on?” asked James.
“Fair close to a week, now,” said Mace.
James said, “You let us go by, Mace, and I’ll find out what’s killing your men and get it dealt with.”
“How you going to do that if some of my toughest men can’t face this thing, whatever it is?”
Jazhara held up her hand and a globe of light sprang forth.
“Blind me eyes!” exclaimed one of the thieves. “A bloody magician!”
“The Prince’s bloody magician,” corrected James.
Mace waved his billy at Jazhara. “You know the Mockers have no truck with magic!” he shouted. “Prince’s squire and all, you still know the Mockers’ Law!”
Jazhara closed her hand and the light vanished. “Look the other way for a while.”
“Or else let me call down a few squads of the Prince’s regulars,” said William. “A couple of hundred armed men might flush the thing out, don’t you think?”
The thought of soldiers invading the Thieves’ Highway was obviously more odious than a magician, for after a moment Mace said, “All right, you can pass. But if any more of my lads gets killed, Prince’s squire or no, the death mark will be back on you, boy. You have my word on that.”
James bowed theatrically, and said, “Your warning is heard. Now, if we may go?”
Mace waved them by. “Tread lightly, Jimmy the Hand. There are them about who ain’t members of the Guild.”
“Noted. What’s the password?”
“‘Lanky boy’,” answered Mace.
They left the Mockers and continued down the passage. When they were safely out of earshot, Jazhara said, “I understand many people fear magic, but why are the Mockers so averse to it?”
James said, “Because thieves thrive on misdirection and subterfuge. You ever hear of a thief stealing something from a magician?”
Jazhara laughed. “Only in stories.”
“That’s the point. If Arutha wanted to rid the city of thieves, he could for a while by having you, or someone like you, ferret them out with magic.”
Jazhara peered around the tunnel. “I think they overrate our abilities. I could create some problems in a limited area for a small number of them, but once I had left, I suspect they would return, like rats.”
James chuckled. “Almost certainly, but no one said a fear has to be based in reality.”
Jazhara glanced at James. “Squire, I know you by reputation to be a man of some accomplishments for one so young, but to find you to be a deep thinker is impressive.”
Now it was William’s turn to chuckle, leaving James to wonder if the remark was a compliment or a barb.
>Twice they halted to hide as bands of armed men came by. After the second group had safely passed, James said, “That lot had been in a tussle.”
William nodded as he relit the lantern. “Two of them aren’t going to make it if their companions don’t carry them.”
“Which way do we go now?” asked Jazhara.
“Where they came from,” said James.
They continued on, deeper into the sewers.
The sound of lapping water heralded the existence of another large waterway.
“This is the original river sluice,” said James. “One of the early princes built it. I’ve been told that this was originally above ground . . . maybe designed as a small canal for barges from the river.”
William knelt and inspected the stonework. “Looks ancient.” He stood and glanced around. “Look there,” he said, moving over to examine something on the nearby wall. “This doesn’t look like the usual tunnel wall. It’s more like a fortification wall.” He indicated the size of the stones and the almost seamless way in which they were set.
“No foot- or handholds,” James agreed.
“How did it come to be so far below the ground?” asked Jazhara.
James shrugged. “People build things. They fill in the spaces between them to make roads. At least a dozen of the sewer tunnels look like old roads that have been covered over, and that central spillway we passed earlier was almost certainly a cistern ages ago.”
“Fascinating,” she said. “How old do you estimate?” “Krondor’s four hundred years old,” said James. “Give or take a week.”
Jazhara laughed. “By Keshian standards, a young city.” James shrugged and began walking. “This way.” As they turned a corner into another passage that ran parallel to the main watercourse, something darted across their field of vision halfway down the tunnel, at the edge of the lantern light.
“What was that?” asked William, bringing his sword to the ready.
“It was big,” said Jazhara. “Larger than a man by half.” James had also drawn his sword. “Cautiously, my friends.” They moved carefully down the passage until .they came to the intersection where the figure had vanished. Ahead lay a long corridor leading to the right, while to the left a short passage led back to the edge of the canal. “If the thing moves through the water,” said William, “that would explain why it is hard to find.”
“And why it could move about from place to place quickly,” observed James. “That way,” he said pointing to the left. They walked slowly, and after a dozen steps spied a faint green light wavering in the distance. Jazhara whispered, “My hair stands on end. There is magic nearby.” James said, “Thanks for the warning.” Jazhara removed something from her belt pouch. “If I give the word, fall to the ground and cover your eyes.” William said, “Understood.” James nodded.
They inched toward the light, and saw a door set in the stone wall. It was open. When they reached the portal, they halted.
James attempted to make sense of what he saw. Human bones lay strewn about, along with the bones of rats and other small animals. Rags and straw had been fashioned into a large circular pallet, in which rested several large leathery objects, each as long as a man’s arm. They pulsed with a sick, green inner light.
Jazhara gasped. “By the gods!” Suddenly James made sense of what they beheld. Within the leather sacks, as he thought of them, figures were visible.
“They’re babies!” the magician cried, horrified. She closed her eyes and began a low incantation. At last, her eyes snapped open and she said, “This is the darkest magic. This place must be destroyed. Shield your eyes!”
Both men turned their backs to the door as Jazhara hurled the object she’d taken from her pouch. A flash of white light illuminated the area as heat washed over them.
In the sudden brilliance the far end of the corridor was revealed. There stood a misshapen, hunchbacked figure, a creature seven or more feet tall. Atop its frame sat a massive head, its visage a caricature of a human face with a protruding jaw exposing teeth the size of a man’s thumb. Beady black eyes widened in shock at the burst of light. Its arms hung to the floor, and instead of hands, large callused flippers bore the creature’s weight.
After a second, the monster roared and charged.
James and William stood ready as Jazhara turned.
The thing was almost upon them when James threw his dagger with his left hand, a short, deft cast, catching the creature in the chest. The monster barely hesitated, but it let out a roar of pain.
The light coming from the fire behind them revealed gaping wounds upon the creature’s body. The fights with other groups in the tunnels had left the thing weakened, James hoped, and now he knew it was mortal, as blood seeped from several of the gashes.
William’s sword snaked point first over James’s head, and he braced to let the creature run up onto the blade. The creature slowed, and rather than impale itself, it lifted what Jam
es thought of as arms rather than forelegs. With a sudden backhand slash, the flipper-like hand sliced through the air, and James barely avoided decapitation. The flipper struck the stones with a solid crack; James knew there must be a hard callus or bone ridge along the flipper’s edge that would likely cut through flesh.
Jazhara chanted a spell and held up her hand. A point of searing red light appeared upon the creature’s head and suddenly it howled in pain. Both flippers came up as if to shield its head, giving William an opening.
The long hand-and-a-half sword shot forward. A short man, William was nevertheless powerful of arm and shoulder and he drove his sword home with all his weight. The blade struck deep. The creature wailed.
James shot past his companion and struck for its throat with his rapier and in seconds the thing lay upon the stones, dead.
“What is it?” asked William, panting heavily.
“Nothing natural,” said Jazhara.
“Someone made it?” asked James, moving cautiously around the still corpse.
Jazhara knelt and touched a flipper, then ran her hand across the brow above the blankly staring eyes. Finally she rose, wiping away a tear. “It was a baby.”
William almost gagged. “That was a baby?”
Jazhara turned and started walking down the tunnel. “I need to be away from here,” she said, her voice choked with emotion.
James and William hurried to overtake her. “Wait!” James cried.
Reaching the intersection, Jazhara halted. Before either William or James could speak, she turned and said, “Some magic is evil beyond imagining. There is a branch of the Lesser Path, called by some ‘Arcane Vitrus’ in the old language. It means ’the hidden knowledge of life.‘ When used for good, it seeks to unravel the reason people sicken and die, or to find cures for deformity or illness. When used for evil, it can fashion creatures such as these.”
“Babies?” William asked.
Jazhara nodded. “Children stolen or bought hours after birth, placed within those ‘egg sacs’ to be refashioned and twisted against any reasonable nature by malignant arts.”
Krondor Tear of the Gods Page 10
