by Brian Keller
Rukle approached, still getting his breathing under control, “Do you think we got them all?” Kinsman's jaw clenched at the thought that some threat might yet remain, “We'll sort that out after we get our people freed.” He recalled his own thoughts after the Guild House had been raided and burned. The charred skeleton of the House still remained, as a clear reminder to anyone who'd missed the event. “They'll be wary. Watchful. Most likely, they'll be seeking some way out of town. As a sellsword with a caravan or aboard a ship. Or they'll buy or steal a horse. They're outsiders and they know it. Unless they have pouches filled with coin, no one will be willing to hide them.” Rukle accepted his assessment with a nod and turned back to face the ships, “We're leaving out now?” Kinsman followed his gaze, “Yes. Just make sure no one except Silas' men boards the third ship we struck.” Rukle glanced at the third ship and replied, “Gotcha. Which are you boarding?” Kinsman smiled, “I haven't decided. I'm going to check the pier, to make sure we're not leaving anyone behind, so I'll probably board the first one. It's at that end.” Rukle had stepped away but he turned and shouted to be heard over the rain, “How'll we know if we have everyone?” Kinsman shook his head and shouted, “We won't! As long as there's no one still on the pier, I'll just accept that everyone has boarded one of the two ships. We need to get those ships moving. Anyone left behind, stays behind. They'll find their way home to the Ruins. We'll need to be more organized leaving Serpent Tooth. No one gets left behind there.” Rukle raised his eyebrows at the thought of being stranded on the island. The remaining choices would be to swim, or fight. Both options had grim outcomes.
The crews attempted to work in silence as much as possible. Shouting commands only as much as necessary. Most of the men knew what needed to be done, and the storm surely prevented the sound from carrying over the water. Kinsman couldn't hear any noises from the neighboring ship and could barely even see it's crew working to get the ship underway. The direction of the prevailing wind made it easy for two of the ships to sail from their moorings, but the second ship was being blown toward the pier. Despite this, the Wharfsiders aboard pulled away after only rubbing the pier for half the length of the ship. Kinsman walked to the bow of the first ship and looked in the direction of the islands. They were much too far away to see them in the darkness and the storm did nothing to improve visibility. He turned to see who was aboard with him and his gaze settled on Gaff. Since raiding the first warehouse, the boy hadn't spoken. He appeared to be no happier now. Kinsman sat beside him, “Anything you want to talk about? We have a few minutes.” Gaff's eyes hovered somewhere between anguish and an accusing glare, “We burned those men alive. You just poured in fuel and dropped a torch on top of them... There's no honor in that.”
Kinsman shifter position and faced him directly, “Honor? You might be in the wrong profession. As a soldier you could fight for the glory of the realm and perhaps someday be knighted. Go speak with the Lord General about that. You remember him – the honorable man who led the raid on our home? I'm sure he believes he did the honorable thing. Any of us that fought were put to the sword or were themselves locked in and burned. Those that survived were shackled to be imprisoned, tortured, forced to work in the quarry, or were simply executed. And those are just the ones we know about.” Kinsman paused to see if Gaff had a reply. Gaff remained silent so Kinsman continued, “We are Assassins. Honor doesn't even factor into it. Utsef should've taught you that. Our job is to weigh every possible factor in our favor, and then fulfill our contract. That's it.”
Gaff thought about what he'd said, then carefully formed his reply, “You imply that the Lord General is no more honorable than us. So how does burning those men make you any better?”
Kinsman shook his head, his tone was incredulous, “Better? I'm not trying to be better. I'm not on some quest for a higher purpose. I'm just trying to free our people. There's nothing I won't do.”
Gaff wasn't satisfied, “Why not kill the Lord General then? As you killed the Spymaster?” Kinsman sighed, he'd hoped that Gaff would've worked that out for himself. He leaned in closer to be heard over the wind and rain, “We don't want Paleros to be weakened any more than she has been. Take too many legs from a chair and it'll fall. The Lord General is a known entity and he's predictable. I can work around a predictable man. Besides, Hennit Arkady is in service to the Prince because King Argravel assigned him there. How would the King respond if Arkady was assassinated?” He waited for Gaff to answer. Gaff merely shrugged and Kinsman responded, “I don't know either. That's why the Lord General is still alive.”
Gaff became thoughtful. The island was in sight by the time he spoke again. He asked, “Do we stand a chance? Against the Army and the Watch, I mean.” Kinsman thought for a moment then replied, “Have you ever watched a wolf chase a rabbit? If you're ever asked to bet on that outcome, a wise man told me, “If you know nothing else about the event, always bet on the rabbit.” When I asked why, his reply was profound, “Because the wolf is only running for his dinner. The rabbit is running for his life.” Gaff chuckled, the ice broken, “It kinda puts things in perspective, doesn't it?” Kinsman didn't reply. He didn't have to.
The ship being run aground had been gaining speed. Silas' crew had piled on sail and they were well ahead of the other two ships. It was too far away to see whether the flag had been raised or whether the longboat had already been lowered, but there was no mistaking it when the ship came to a sudden halt against the rocks. It sounded like another crash of thunder. The mast shuddered and the ship almost appeared to break free of the rocks. The sails had sagged for an instant as the ship impacted but they filled again almost immediately and the force of the winds slammed the ship against the rocks for a second time. The mast seemed to dip as the ship listed and filled with water. The wind pushed the vessel upright once more and as water rushed to fill the ship's hull the wind continued to force the vessel past an upright position to lean away from the rocks. The damage to the hull must have been significant. The ship sank at a surprising rate.
Kinsman would have liked to continue watching until the ship settled on the rocks below but they were quickly approaching the island. He peered forward to look for the docks. He knew that large ships could moor at the prison since many sailors told stories of Paleros warships docking there to drop off pirates and smugglers that had been captured out at sea. He hadn't sailed this far from Paleros except when the Sundancer had brought him home from Kalistos, and on that occasion he'd only glanced in the direction of the prison. His eyes had been fixed on the city itself as they entered the bay. He trusted the sailors to know their business.
He felt a moment of panic when the prison came in to view and there were no piers in sight. Captain Rigel's men must have known that ships moored by pulling alongside the island. Mooring points had been carved out from the very rock of the island itself, likely by hammers wielded by thousands of prisoners over a hundred years ago. The sailors were already pulling in sails and bundling them to prevent them from capturing the wind, thus reducing their speed as they approached and turned. Despite the skilled navigation, the ship struck the hewn rock with a jarring thump. The joints and beams of the vessel protested, but most of those sounds were drowned out by the wind and surf. Kinsman was thankful to be on the lee side of the island. The winds were surely much more forceful on the other side. Several members of the crew were leaping over the side and grabbing lines to secure the ship. Kinsman and his people joined them in pulling the lines taut. He turned his attention to the prison while the sailors were still tying off the lines.
He had always assumed that the prison would be an imposing structure, a walled fortress of sorts. In it's own way, it was a fortress, but it's 'imposing' days had passed years ago. The crumbling structure in front of him couldn't be more than three stories high, except for the stone towers at each corner and mid-point that threatened to collapse with each fresh gust of wind.
The portcullis gate was not yet even visible from this distance. A
realization that came with some relief. If he couldn't see the gate, perhaps any guard posted there hadn't seen them either. Silas had brought his ship to a mooring point closer to the prison. The Guild members rushed to assist with getting the ship tied off, then everyone gathered into a huddled group. Kinsman leaned in and spoke into the center of the group, “Loryn and I will get in close and secure the entrance. The rest of you follow a minute or so behind. Once we're inside, we'll split into two groups just like we planned.” Loryn gave him a nod, acknowledging his orders.
The group separated and the two of them crept forward, pulling their bows from their shoulders. As they approached the gate it became apparent that the portcullis was down and the walking gate was closed. It made sense, why would the gate be left open by default? Each of them nocked arrows as they crept nearer. If a guard appeared, they'd both release arrows since the metal bars could easily deflect one, or even both, arrows.
The only guard present was bundled up in his cloak and a few furs and hides, sleeping fitfully while faithfully keeping the standing order of 'posting a guard on the gate at all hours'. The gate was locked and the guard was barely visible under his pile of hides and furs. Shooting arrows between the bars from this range should easily pierce the layers of leather he had draped over him. Two arrows might kill him, but also might not prevent him from crying out. The wind would surely dampen the noise but it couldn't guarantee that no one else would be alerted. Kinsman withdrew from the gate, set down his bow and pointed upward. Loryn nodded and directed her attention back onto the guard. Kinsman took several paces along the wall, away from the gate, and ran his hands over the rough stone. The wind and salt air had smoothed many of the pronounced edges over the years. Conversely, it had turned the smooth, quarried stone faces into a pocked surface. As a result, handholds were rare and sliding across the surface would be akin to dragging oneself across a cheese grater. Falling would be even worse. Fortunately, the stone blocks used to build the prison were not large, and the mortar was aged.
His boots were made for creeping, not climbing. He nearly fell several times, and would have, if not for maintaining a fingertip hold along the seams above him. The other Guild members had gathered at the base of the wall and were becoming impatient by the time he'd reached the top of the wall. The wind was decidedly stronger once he'd crested the vertical surface. The end of his cloak rippled and snapped and his hood was thrust back leaving his tousled hair to become thoroughly wet and further tangled. He crossed the wall noting it's width, “A wagon could be driven from one tower to the next. The walls of the prison are wider than most streets in town!” He shielded his eyes with a hand and glanced around the the open interior courtyard. He saw no one. He could barely discern two, or maybe three structures toward the center of the open grounds.
The descent was no better then the climb, worse in fact, due to the fact that he no longer had the wall shielding him from the incoming rain. Reaching downward for the next crevice had to be done almost completely by feel. He could turn his head to the side in an attempt to look down for the next seam but the wet, salty air stung his eyes and blurred his vision.
When his feet finally touched the ground again he let loose of the wall and worked his fingers. Within the walls, the force of the wind was reduced significantly, but above him it continuously howled as it passed the towers and crossed over the walls. He looked at his surroundings and noted several large gaps along the interior walls at ground level. Most of these had cage doors. “Could those be the cells?!” he wondered. He ignored the thought for the moment. There was a guard and a gate to contend with.
*****
Iona woke to the unmistakable sensation. “It’s him”, she told herself. She lay in her bed, listening to the rain pelting her window and wondered who she should tell. The professor would certainly be interested but she had no interest in reviving that particular relationship nor in going out in the storm to pursue the matter. She rose and dressed, knowing that she had almost no chance of going back to sleep now. She could feel that he was to the east. The Waterfront District, perhaps even the Wharf City. She smiled as she considered how much she’d learned about the city since she’d been free of the University’s shackles. She had no doubt that University life appealed to many, but those would be the scholars and mages. She could have qualified to be either, or even both for that matter, but the University had decided against developing those capabilities in her. “I suppose they felt it might make me difficult to manage.” She smirked at the irony of it, “Now that they’ve alienated me, I’m in a position to help further their goals, but there’s no one around to tell.”
She left her room to walk the halls. She could hear the winds howling from somewhere further down the corridor. Perhaps she’d venture to the kitchen. Someone was always awake there. In that regard, the cooks were more dependable than the guards.
Long before she reached the kitchen she felt a familiar tingle and began to smell freshly baked bread and hints of a sweet smell she couldn’t identify at first… honeysuckle! She stopped walking and looked around. There was no one nearby. She reached out and immediately detected him, “Felis. Step out of that alcove where you’re tucked away. You want me to know you’re there. You did that on purpose.” Felis stepped out into the lit corridor. He gave a short, semi-formal bow, “So glad you decided to take a walk. You’ve moved rooms since I was here last, and I wasn’t certain where I might find you.” Iona answered his bow with one of her own and replied, “The Gifted young man, Cooper, is exercising his abilities. That woke me.” Felis smiled, “I’m not surprised. In fact, that likely coincides with why I’ve come.” He paused to gauge her interest. She said nothing since she knew he hadn’t come all this way only to remain silent. He had more to say, and he would, in his own time. Felis watched her for almost a minute before he spoke again. When he did, it a simple question, “Do you trust me?” She thought about it before she replied, “I shouldn’t, but I do.” Felis nodded, “That’s fair. Will you come with me now? I want to show you something.” She almost repeated herself, “I shouldn’t, but I will. I’ll get dressed. You’d best come with me. You might find it difficult explaining yourself to any guards that find you lurking in the halls.” Felis shrugged, “They don’t usually see me, but I’ll follow along. That way I’ll know which room is yours.” She didn’t have to turn and look at him to know that he was grinning at her.
Once they were in her room she gathered her clothes and stepped behind a curtain. While she changed, she asked, “Where are you taking me?” Felis hesitated for a moment as he considered his reply, “You’ve already agreed to go with me, so I suppose there’s no reason to keep it a secret. We’re going to Miller’s Flats.”
*****
The guard had tucked himself against the wall in an effort to hide from the wind and rain. Kinsman had told everyone that they needed to spare the lives of the guards whenever possible, and he meant it. Killing Lukasi agents, drug dealers and slavers was one thing. Killing guards for simply doing their jobs was something else entirely. He had very few darts remaining that had been coated with Debilitas, a paralyzing poison that Miss Camilla and Aden had developed. It wouldn't be possible to replace his supply until Miss Camilla had a working laboratory again, and even then Miss Camilla had admitted that Debilitas was mostly Aden's creation. Without his notes, she doubted whether she could reliably recreate it. Kinsman used one of those precious darts now. The guard woke when he felt the jab and had time enough for a sharp intake of breath and the beginning of an exclamation, “Wha-!?” The panicked expression in the man's eyes spoke volumes. Kinsman pulled one of the furs over the man's face and spoke into his ear, “In ten or twenty minutes you'll be fine again. We'll tie you up now because we'll be here longer than that. You'll be spared as long as you don't cause problems. Make trouble and you'll be fish food.”
He searched the guard for the gate key and came away with an entire ring of keys hanging from a hook on the man's belt. As he gazed at the colle
cted jumble he estimated between fifty and seventy keys. “Which of these could possibly be the gate key?” he wondered. He answered himself, “The shiniest. It'll be the one most used.” He sifted through the keys and picked the first well-used key he found. His Guild mates gathered around the door when they saw him on the other side. The keyhole of the gate had a small, hinged flap that covered the keyhole. He pushed it aside. The key went in without difficulty but it wouldn't turn. He looked through the remaining keys and selected one that had an additional polished mark that corresponded with the metal protective flap. That key turned and he pulled the gate open with a creak of metal-on-metal.
He hadn't noticed it until he turned to face into the prison, depending on where you stood, the gateway passage acted as a wind tunnel. He stepped to the right, near the subdued guard, and held up the keys, “I think the cells run along the inside perimeter, but that's just a guess. There's no way for us to know which keys open which cells. These keys are made for warded locks, so it's simply a matter of bypassing the wards and releasing the shackle within. We'll just pick them open. It'll go faster than trying keys on every lock until we find the one that fits.” Loryn commented, “Besides, we're splitting up and there's just one ring of keys. How many people are we breaking out?” Rukle grunted, “All of 'em!” Kinsman smiled, “Our people have priority, of course. But if each of these keys goes to a cell, minus a few for the buildings inside, we should find fewer than seventy prisoners, unless they have more than one to a cell. I doubt we'll find more than two hundred, so we should be able to take them all. Just look for our people first. The longer we stay, the higher the risk.” He turned to Rukle, “The guard house is likely one of the buildings in the center courtyard. Take a couple archers with you and find out which building it is, then try to cover or secure all the doors. If you think you'll need more people, come find me. We may need to bring in some Wharfsiders to help out. I really hadn't expected this place to be wide open like this.” Spen gazed around and muttered, “I think it's safe to say that none of us expected this.”
