Then it vanished.
The chamber descended back into blackness, and somehow the silence became even deeper than before. It was as if music I couldn’t hear had stopped. I just wished I knew what the performance had been all about in the first place.
Regardless, the thing had left and it was time to move on.
“C’mon, Cole,” I muttered, “let’s get on with it.” I pulled out my red lantern again and waited for the thug to appear.
After counting to three hundred and still no sign of him, I knew I needed to act. He carried both my money and the package. With or without Cole, I needed to complete this job and get paid.
Leaving a red vial again by my southern archway, I made my way to the eastern side of the room and into the exit Cole had taken.
I considered the possibility this might be a trap on Cole’s part to lure me in close, but dismissed it. The inevitable ambush didn’t make sense yet. Cole didn’t know the way out, and therefore still needed me alive.
And while he carried that money and package, I still needed him.
The eastern corridor was in bad shape. Mounds of old rotting bricks covered the floor from where the ceiling and walls had collapsed. The irregularity gave the old tunnel more of a cave-like appearance, and I couldn’t figure out why Cole had ventured so far within the passageway. Maybe he thought it would curve around and join mine, but he should have known better. I had expressly warned him about leaving the path.
I knew I would be making a mistake in following him down there, and instinct told me I needed to turn back. This place was deadly—but I needed that money, and thoughts of a sizeable payoff warred with my common sense.
Like I said, Desperate plus Greedy equals Stupid.
I crept into the eastern corridor and extinguished my light to aid in my chances of spotting his glow bottle. Sure enough, I spied a dim, green luminescence about forty feet ahead. I waited for a minute, straining my ears for any wisp of a sound, but heard nothing. The glow wasn’t moving and Cole wasn’t making a sound.
Not good.
Despite the fact that I couldn’t think of a single benign reason for Cole’s silence and immobility, I slunk down the tunnel toward the glow. Those gold crowns could keep me fed through the winter. Besides, I couldn’t just walk away when the money belt was so close.
I counted on the darkness to conceal me, and used the green light as my only compass. The decayed bricks crumbled under my feet, making silent movement difficult, but I still managed to ghost my way through the blackness. I took almost five minutes to cover thirty feet, but I finally closed in on my target. The green light ahead glowed behind a moldering pile of brick, making it hard to make out what I approached. I pulled my dagger as I drew near that final pile of rubble.
As I crawled over them, Craydon Cole came into view.
He was sprawled on his back, his arms and legs splayed , the green bottle gripped by its top in his left hand. He lay without stirring a muscle, but his eyes were wide open. In the dim light, I saw them dart in my direction and settle on me. There was something horribly wrong about him. It looked like a giant had stepped in his middle, smashing his stomach flat. Then his eyes moved again and focused past me.
I whirled and threw my arm up just as the nightmare leaped out of the darkness, its pale gray legs outstretched at me.
What saved my life that night was the reason I had been sweating the whole time. Under my tunic, I wore a tight vest of brigandine armor laced up around my torso. A brigandine bracer also wrapped my right forearm. Those strips of steel, sandwiched between boiled leather, were what stopped the horror’s fangs as they drove into my forearm.
The huge spider wrapped its legs around my middle as it slammed into me, and we went to the ground. The thing was hideously strong and it felt like being beaten with boards as it flailed and gripped me with its legs.
I screamed like a terrified child, rolling across the bricks and stabbing wildly with the dagger in my free hand. The thing hissed, almost in my face, keeping its fangs buried in the bracer on my forearm. I pushed that arm down and away from me as hard as I could, trying to get it away from my face, but it pulled itself to me just as hard. It had a foreleg over each of my shoulders and its hard, faceted eyes gleamed with mindless hunger.
My feet scrabbled against the rotting bricks as I desperately tried to gain whatever leverage I could.
The thing managed to pull one of its fangs from my bracer, just as I succeeded in rolling over on top of it. Now I was in worse trouble. The spider struggled beneath me and I could feel that fang questing for bare skin. My own weight could end up forcing me down on it.
I used what leverage I had left to roll over to my side, but the beast’s struggles overbalanced me and it ended up on top again. Its one loose fang stretched over my bracer and toward my face. The thing was relentless and my tiring arms were beginning to fail. It started to pull itself forward, toward my head.
I couldn’t stop it any longer.
Then it gripped me so hard I thought my ribs were going to crack, even through the armor. It took all of my strength just to breathe. For a second, I thought my time had come—but then I realized it no longer moved.
The monster was dead.
The whole time my left hand had been slamming the dagger into its body, and pale gore now covered me from the waist down. I tried not to retch as its guts spread over my legs from its eviscerated abdomen.
And the damned thing still wouldn’t let go.
I twisted and squirmed in the dead spider’s grip. A violent jerk of my arm finally managed to free it from the creature’s mouth, but tore off one of its fangs. Warm ichor flowed from the wound and covered my chest.
I nearly went insane while cutting myself loose from that monster, piece by piece. My dagger had been made for stabbing, not sawing, but I was frantic with fear at the thought of something else showing up while I still lay entangled with the beast.
Once I finally freed myself, I crawled over to Cole and looked him over. His torso sported several bites, and I saw the thing had already fed on him. Amazingly, or horribly, he still lived.
But he also looked strangely deflated. The spider had already had time to suck out his liquefied guts, although the organs in his chest must have been intact and still somehow functioned.
Unable to move anything but his eyes, he just stared at me. Even the muscles of his face were paralyzed, giving him a look of slack stupidity I knew not to be the case. He knew exactly what was going on…and what was coming next.
I wiped the ichor off my dagger, met his gaze, and then slashed his wrist. There really wasn’t anything that needed saying.
After all, we were both professionals.
I waited and watched the life leave his eyes, then I cut the money belt off of him and grabbed the package.
It was a long, slow crawl back up that tunnel, leaving the sickly green light behind. The fear that the spider might have a companion lurking nearby dogged me the whole way. Finally, the columned room came back into view and I was back on the Lowerways.
Relighting my little red lantern, I crept the rest of the way out of there...nearly out of fuel, and almost out of my mind by the time I pulled myself through the hole into the basement of Gurode’s Bakery.
***
“So, that’s what happened to Crayden Cole,” Hienryk mused. “I don’t know if I would wish that fate on anyone, even him.”
“Indeed,” I muttered, then glanced at Drayton, who leaned back and stared at the ceiling. “I still have nightmares about him down there.”
“That really happened?” inquired the hulking, younger watchman, who looked both engrossed and doubtful at the same time.
“I still have that bracer back at my house, Poole, with one of the spider’s fangs imbedded in it. I will be happy to show it to you, if you need further proof.”
I realized, from his expression, I had climbed a few notches in his esteem. That was fine, a bit of a relief, but the purpose of my story wa
sn’t to impress young would-be adventurers.
“There’s more,” I added, leaning forward for emphasis. “What you need to understand is the spider that attacked me had a leg spread of about five or six feet. If you look at the dents in the bracer I wore, you will see its bite was about four inches across.”
Drayton bolted upright in his seat as he grasped the import of my statement.
“But the wounds on that woman were almost two feet apart!”
“That’s right,” I nodded. “Couple that with all the black hair we found at the latest murder scene, and I think we are dealing with an entirely different kind of spider.”
“Different? How?”
“I think it’s something like a tarantula, only on a massive scale. I suspect it’s moving at night, and coming in before dawn to find a victim to feast on while it hides during the day. Furthermore, I think the girl who fell off of Dyers Hall must have run over Madame Vedure’s roof and startled the spider into coming out to investigate. She probably thought the gates of the Netherhells themselves had opened when that thing crawled up over the edge of the eaves after her, and fled to her death on the Upperways.”
Drayton rocked back in his chair, arms crossed with a thoughtful look on his face.
“I don’t know,” he muttered. “Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
“You’re asking me to believe there is a giant black tarantula in this city, at least as large as my coach. And this huge monstrosity is running around the rooftops, dropping in to eat people in their homes, and nobody notices? With not even one sighting of this beast reported?”
The other two watchmen looked from their captain to me.
“Captain,” I replied, “with all due respect, can you tell me what’s on this building’s roof right now? Yes, we are inside, but would it make a bit of difference if we were out on the street? It wouldn’t even be visible from ground level unless you were looking up when it crossed the gap between the roofs directly over the streets. And on top of that, I think this thing is moving at night.”
Drayton rested his chin in his hand and stared into his empty beer mug for a minute. Then he pushed back his chair and snapped to his feet.
“Mr. Cargill,” he announced, “I thank you for your observations and your time. Your contributions today were commendable. And, on top of that, you regaled us with a truly astonishing tale from the adventures of your past.”
He held up a finger to keep me from interrupting.
“I would like you to think more on what we have seen today, and share whatever conclusions you have with me the next time we meet. I realize you have a business to run, and I have pulled you away from that for far too long. Watchman Poole will take you back to your home in my coach. Good day, sir.”
With that, he nodded for Heinryk to follow him, and they left the pub.
I stared after him in mute astonishment. Apparently our joint venture had come to an abrupt end.
Poole rose, gestured toward the door, and I followed him out to the coach. We made the ride back to my home in silence, but at least he wasn’t glaring at me anymore.
When the coach pulled up to my house, I started to climb out, but then stopped. I just couldn’t leave it at this. I had been dismissed without explanation, and sent on my way. I didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved. And Drayton hadn’t even said why. I needed some insight into what the Captain was thinking.
“Poole?” I asked. “I don’t think the Captain believes me.”
“He believes you, Mr. Cargill,” Poole replied. “At least, I think he believes your story about what happened in the Undercity. I know I do, and later on, I would really appreciate a look at that bracer of yours. I just don’t think he’s convinced you’re right about what’s going on now.”
“Why not?”
“I guess it’s just that the thing has been too perfect. Somebody should have seen something, even if it’s doing what you say. Despite being naturally wary, it’s still just a big spider. Which brings up the other problem...”
“What’s that, Poole?” I asked as I stepped out of the carriage.
“Where did it come from?”
The coach left, clattering back down the hill and disappearing into the teeming streets.
I stood on the road in front of my house and watched it depart, my mind struggling to absorb the bizarre events of the day. Drayton had been right—there were holes in my theory. As rattled as I had been, waving a dagger around and telling gory tales of past exploits, it’s no surprise the captain had been skeptical.
Even as I stood there, I came up with a bigger hole in my theory than the one Poole mentioned.
There was something really strange going on here.
Pulling a penny out of my pouch, I whistled and caught a street urchin’s attention. On the promise of that coin, he ran off to fetch me a coach for hire. While waiting, I mulled over the events of the morning. I had been caught off guard and, let’s face it, two years of easy living softened a man. But one thing I learned a long time ago was the first step to getting control of a situation was to get information.
I had my ways of getting information too, and I intended to use them.
Drayton was wrong. That spider was out there.
Before I made my escape to a new city and started over, I intended to prove it to the good captain—and shove it right in his face.
Chapter Four
“An island nation of merchants and pirates, the Tagarr may never return home without bringing a sacrifice for their god, Moleg. The poor wretch’s fate is to be tossed alive into the god’s fiery mouth. They usually settle for buying an unsuspecting slave for the purpose, while at some foreign port of call. But the sight of a homeward bound Tagarr ship is still cause for concern for other vessels, and small communities along the coast.” —Asaud’s Perils of the Cambriatic
It was the next evening after my encounter with the watchmen, and I watched the lights of Khrem from the railing of my upper patio. The sun had only been down for a couple of hours, so signs of life still showed here and there throughout the city.
The lanterns of Tallowpot Street reflected off the water where it ran alongside the River Nur. Lights glowed in the windows of the towers and temples scattered across the city, where alchemists worked their charms and potions late into the night, and the priests of the hundred different religions of Khrem tended their altars. The ships docked in the harbor were festooned with lanterns, which would be tended by their crews and burn all night.
Right now, the rooftops were invisible. The thin sliver of the rising moon cast no useful light, and the dimly lit streets were pale yellow cracks shining up through the blackness of the roofs. The lanterns on a thousand coaches made tiny dots that moved up and down those golden strands.
It was beautiful, but frustrating.
The damned spider could have been dancing an Issillian jig with a chorus line of Fanfan dancers on the buildings beneath me and I wouldn't have seen him. Later, when the moon rose higher and the street lanterns were snuffed, my view would improve.
I could find no point in worrying about my night vision now, so I kept the two big lanterns that hung on each side of my patio door burning. Another burned on the desk Grabel had helped me move out to the patio. Three large tomes held down the map of Khrem spread before me.
Cyrim the Cartographer had probably closed shop early and taken his wives out to dinner, to celebrate selling his masterpiece map of the city that had been hanging on his wall for years. When I told him I also wanted to buy the large mounted spyglass sitting in his shop window, I swear his eyes misted with tears of joy.
"Dinner will be soon, sir."
Grabel grunted as he came out onto the patio minutes later, carrying a large covered clay pot full of spiced chunks of mutton. He set it down by the iron brazier he had carried up earlier. That brazier now popped and hissed with hot coals. Pulling out some skewers he carried stuck through his belt, he started threading the pieces of mutton onto the
m.
"Would the master like any other heavy object around the house brought up to the patio? I'm sure the garden statue would look lovely in that corner."
"No, Grabel." I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples.
"Perhaps the large bookshelf to go alongside your desk."
"No, thank you, Grabel." I sighed. "This is satisfactory."
"No loads that need toting? No burdens that need bearing?"
One of these days...
"Grabel, when you finish with dinner, you are free to retire for the night."
"Very good, sir. I was actually thinking of making a call on an acquaintance."
Having skewered all the bits of mutton, Grabel set them to leaning out over the brazier. Melted fat dripped off the chunks and into the coals, smoking the skewered meat. Grabel then opened a smaller pot and started loading another skewer with candied pears. These he set at a slightly higher level over the heat. A small quarter wheel of redwine cheese rounded out the meal.
Tonight I intended to stay up and watch the city in style.
The smell of the mutton skewers had just begun to fill the air when somebody rang the bell down by my front gate. With a long-suffering sigh, Grabel rose and headed for the door.
"Grabel, if it's regarding business, please tell them I don't take or deliver orders after sundown. On the odd chance it's Captain Drayton, go ahead and direct him up here and feel free to leave. I will be sleeping in, so you don't have to return until midday."
"Very good, sir."
I moved to take over turning the skewers while Grabel went to attend to the door downstairs. I really hadn't expected to hear from Drayton for another day or two, but most everybody I did business with knew of my firm rule against transactions after dark. In a moment, the heavy clump of boots coming up the stairs confirmed my guess.
Drayton stood in the doorway, surveying what I had done to the patio with bemusement.
The Ways of Khrem Page 5
