"What sort of light makes a hole in the ceiling!"
Gustin shook the plaster dust out of his brown curls, wincing a little at the movement. "It's a wand with several uses, that's what it is. But you can't break my concentration or I lose my grip on it."
"What kind of wizard are you?" she demanded.
"Fairly good, by all standards," replied Gustin evenly as he crawled around on his hands and knees, patting the floor in front of him. With a grunt of satisfaction, he located his lost wand, tucking it back up his sleeve. "But this little item isn't all that reliable. It likes to slip out of its user's hand."
"Then why do you have it?" Sophraea asked as she climbed to her feet.
"Payment for a job. Never take magic items from another wizard. The cheap ones always cheat by giving you trash," said the young wizard with casual condemnation of his profession. "That's why I prefer to make my money in other ways."
Aware of Feeler and Fish listening carefully to every word that Gustin was babbling, she stopped him before he could say more about his schemes and introduced the two gravediggers to him.
"So," said Gustin with a cheerful grin, as if he had not just knocked a hole in their ceiling, "you live down here?"
"People don't bother us here. It's quiet," said Feeler while Fish nodded and lit another candle. Fish rarely spoke in front of strangers, Sophraea knew, because of the odd lisp created by his two rows of teeth and split tongue.
"I am sorry about interrupting your supper," said Sophraea.
"Not to worry," said Feeler, "you're welcome any time."
"We just need to use your door," she explained.
"YoUr parents know you're going into the tunnels?"
Sophraea gave the type of a shrug that might be taken for a "yes" in dim light. Feeler appeared skeptical'and Fish pursed his mouth in a disapproving frown. ¦ "I'll watch out for her, saer," said Gustin.
To Sophraea's frustration, Feeler looked straight over her head at the wizard. "You wouldn't want to know how deep we could bury the body that harmed this child," he said.
"No, saer," said Gustin sincerely. "I'm sure I wouldn't."
"I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself," asserted Sophraea. Really, just because the gravediggers had given her rides on their shovels when she was a baby, that didn't mean that she couldn't protect herself now. "It's not like I haven't been in the tunnels before!"
"With a pack of your brothers and cousins," said Feeler. "Not alone. That's different."
"He is a wizard. With a wand," Sophraea pointed out because she had a feeling that would impress them more than her usual argument that she was fully grown and quite able to navigate the tunnels on her own. "And we're only going a short way. I just want to show him something and then we'll come right back."
With a heavy sigh, Feeler agreed. "But take our lantern with you. Candles blow out too easily."
"But there're lights in the tunnels." Sophraea picked up the lantern even as she protested.
"But that's magic," Feeler said. "And, as your young man pointed out, some magical items are not always reliable. I know you won't get lost, but there're things out there that you don't want to meet in total darkness. What if you stumble across those sewyrms everybody keeps seeing down here?"
Sophraea started to tell the gravediggers that Gustin wasn't her young man, but realized that would plunge her into even more lengthy explanations. Instead, she nipped quickly out of the door that Fish opened, promising that she and Gustin would return shortly and keep a sharp eye out for reptiles and other threats. Gustin lingered in the doorway. "Sewyrms?" Gustin said to Feeler.
The man held his two hands far apart, indicating the size from nose to tail tip. "Big ones," he replied. "Some say that there's even a great albino sewyrm, down in the darkest, deepest sewers, living off the garbage. That it's grown so big that it can't even move through the tunnels anymore."
Sophraea snorted. "That's just story! Albino seawrym in the sewers of Waterdeep. Like nobody has ever heard that one before!"
"Well," the wizard began. "I don't think that I've…"
She grabbed Gustin's sleeve and tugged him through the door.
"We're just going a little way," she said over his shoulder to Feeler. "Just beneath the graveyard. It will be dry as dust and twice as safe as above ground."
"Come back quickly," the gravedigger prompted.
"We will," Sophraea promised.
The door shut firmly behind them. Sophraea nodded in approval as she heard the latch'click down. It would never do to leave Dead End House defenseless on the lowest level, a lesson drilled into her as soon as she started to beg her mother to be allowed to accompany her brothers through the tunnels leading from the basement to the upper streets of Waterdeep. And, although she would never admit it out loud, it was a little comforting to know that Feeler and Fish would wait by the door until they returned.
She gave a quick glance up to the dark outline of the door's watcher. One stony wing was folded halfway across its horned head and its bearded chin was tucked firmly into its shoulder.
"That has to be the ugliest statue that I've ever seen," remarked Gustin, holding the lantern a little higher to cast a light into the niche above the Dead End door.
Sophraea looked upon the ugly creature with affection. She could just make out the slightly notched left ear. Bentnor had jumped up on a bet with Leaplow to pat the watcher's paw. And, of course, once Bentnor did that, Cadriffle had to get high enough to tweak its nose. And once the twins had done that, Leaplow had to best them by twisting the left ear a bit askew. No wonder it kept its wing extended over its head after that!
She opened her mouth to explain the watcher to Gustin and then shook her head at her own foolishness. Such knowledge should only be shared with members of the family and the others who dwelled at Dead End House. No matter how friendly Gustin was, he could not be considered family.
"Come on," she said instead. "We don't have much time."
"So where exactly are we?" Gustin asked as Sophraea hurried down a short dark passageway.
"Into the old sewer tunnels, heading directly under the City of the Dead," she said. She paused for a moment, waiting for the special tug that signaled she was passing under the walls of the City of the Dead. "This is an access tunnel used mostly by the cellarers' and plumbers' guild. If you go the other way, it turns south toward Coffinmarch."
She went a few steps farther in and immediately knew exactly where they were.
"Good, there's the Deepwinter tomb," she glanced up but nothing could be seen in the lamplight except the dull masonry holding the earth above them. It was all instinct that guided her, but she was certain that they were directly below the big mausoleum.
If she closed her eyes, the tunnels around them disappeared. She could picture herself standing on the gravel path twisting through the rain-soaked shrubbery around the tomb's north corner.
"We'll need to turn at the next branching of the tunnels to reach the spot that we want," she told Gustin, opening her eyes and looking up at the wizard.
"Are your eyes blue?" he asked her.
Surprised, Sophraea shook her head. "No, brown, like the rest of my family. Why do you ask?"
Gustin tilted his head to one side, staring at her. "It's gone now. But, just for a moment, there was this flash of blue."
"Trick of the light," Sophraea guessed, heading into the tunnel that led them past the Deepwinter tomb and deeper under the City of the Dead. "Everything always looks a bit strange down here."
"You use these tunnels much?" Gustin moved easily at her side, his long legs easily covering twice the ground as her shorter, quicker steps.
"We all do. Feeler and Fish the most, because it's the quickest way in and out of the graveyard, and many of the portals that they use are below ground these days. The rest of us use the tunnel to Coffinmarch for a shortcut if it's raining too hard to go by the upper streets. Lots of families have entrances in their basements that lead to these tunnel
s."
She didn't try to explain to him how she felt like she was walking in two places at the same time, one Sophraea in the City of the Dead above them, the other Sophraea in the tunnels below. It was a slightly disconnected, somewhat floaty feelings but not altogether unpleasant.
As they rounded another turn, passing by a shadowed doorway, Gustin remarked, "I'm surprised they don't get more unwelcome visitors in their basements. This looks like the perfect arrangement for housebreakers."
"The underground doors are well guarded by stout locks and magic. Besides, we're under the graveyard here. That door just leads into the old Narfuth crypt. There's nothing there worth anything."
"Magical protections on the doors, really? I didn't feel anything in your basement."
"That's because you entered from above, as a friend of the family. The Doorwatcher would have known that and let you alone. Although"-a gleam of amused speculation lit Sophraea's dark eyes-"I suppose that could be why your spell rebounded so spectacularly on you."
"Can't wait to meet this Doorwatcher," said Gustin, but he sounded more intrigued than aggrieved.
"You already have," Sophraea started but then they rounded another corner. Huddled around a couple of torches, shadowy figures blocked the way. Gustin pulled Sophraea into an alcove and shuttered the lantern, leaving them in darkness.
"Best wait until they pass," Gustin whispered in Sophraea's ear, tickling her dark curls with his breath.
"Probably just some neighbors heading home from a party. The City of the Dead's gates would be locked by now and they are using these tunnels instead." But her explanation sounded weak to Sophraea. Most folks avoided going anywhere near the graveyard after nightfall, even underground. Something about how the group scurried together, hands clutching their dagger or sword hilts, and the constant glances back over their shoulders did not suggest a late evening party of revelers.
"I thought that halfling said that she would lead us to treasures," whined a slender man clad in black silk from head to heel. He passed close enough to where Sophraea and Gustin hid that they could hear the whisper of his trousers.
"Who would have thought her hands would be so cold," answered his female companion, a well-rigged fighter bristling with knives, sword, and even a short shield. Another tall man stalked at her side, well-armored and with a hint of ore in his scowling features.
The fourth man, more drably dressed than the others, stopped and stared back into the darkness. He looked straight at the alcove where Sophraea pressed back against Gustin. She held her breath. Gustin's hand tightened on her shoulder.
Then the swarthy bravo shrugged and turned to follow his companions, saying as he left that section of the tunnel, "Well, if there are not treasures to be had tonight, I'm for hot wine and a warm bed. Let's go."
The sounds of this odd quartet died away, leaving the tunnel empty and silent behind them.
Gustin eased out of the alcove, keeping a hand on Sophraea's shoulder to hold her back. He listened for a few cautious minutes and then unshuttered the lantern.
"So this is basically a highway for thieves as well as honest folk," he observed.
"I don't suppose the officials like it," said Sophraea with a shrug, "but you see worse on the streets above. Besides, thieves don't bother people like us." She made the last statement with more ferocity than veracity, but they were so close to the tomb that she couldn't bear to turn back. Something was pulling her, something like that odd sense of direction that she had within the City of the Dead, but stronger.
She knew she would find an answer just about… there.
Sophraea stopped so abruptly that Gustin nearly ran her over, flinging out one long arm to catch himself against the tunnel wall.
"What is it?" he said.
"The Markarl tomb," she said, "or just outside of it." With that queer double vision that had haunted her through the tunnels, she saw the little brick-and-mortar tomb that stood directly above them. But the always locked bronze door? Was it a litde ajar?
"So now what?" Gustin raised the lantern, casting a wider circle of light. At the very edge of the yellow glow something glittered.
Sophraea darted forward, finding a tarnished gold shoe. She picked it up, holding it high so Gustin could also see it clearly in the lamplight.
It was very small and obviously made for a lady. Fashioned in a style popular long ago, the shoe's brocade fabric was badly frayed along the edges and the thin vellum soles decayed.
"Where do you think it came from?" she said out loud.
"A corpse," muttered Gustin.
She clutched the little shoe in one hand, reaching out her other hand to touch the walls. Solid stone met her hand, dewed with the usual dampness encountered in that part of the tunnels.
Sophraea continued poking around the edges of the muddy passageway, which smelled more like sewer than crypt, not that it was easy to tell the difference.
"I don't think there would be a body this deep," she said. "This is a storm drain, only full in worst rains, but they'd never risk a body washing out from here. That's why the tombs and portals are above. The water is supposed to drain down and then out."
"So somebody dropped it passing through. Or the water did carry it here? And, by the way, how hard was it raining today?" Gustin peered at the dank walls, as if expecting water to suddenly come pouring in.
"Not that hard." Sophraea shook her head at a newcomer's lack of knowledge of Waterdeep's precipitation. "Something like that would take a true downpour. Not that mizzle we're getting right now."
The passageway seemed even more shadowed and dank. A cold and clammy feeling settled with a shudder upon her bare hands and face. As they retraced their steps to Dead End House, Sophraea felt compelled to look back over her shoulder. The tunnel remained empty behind them.
She glanced at the wizard beside her. He seemed completely unconcerned by the shadows flickering along the walls that made her start and stare. Of course, he was a wizard, one of those adventurers who had roamed everywhere from what little he had told her. Sewer tunnels under a graveyard wouldn't bother him. And, she thought, raising her chin and holding her head a little higher, she wasn't worried either. He needn't think just because she was younger, and shorter, and had never been outside the walls of Waterdeep, that a few thieves passing them in the tunnels or some oddly shaped shadows swirling across the ceiling above them would frighten her.
Then she heard the soft exhalation, like a woman trying to muffle a cry.
"Do you hear something?" Sophraea whispered to Gustin, resisting the impulse to clutch at his arm.
"My teeth chattering," he answered back. "It's freezing cold all of a sudden."
The damp cold of the tunnels intensified. Sophraea felt like one of the Carver cats on the days that the wind blew from the north. Something was making her skin prickle and she fought an urge to whip around and stare again into the shadows. In the same odd double vision that let her see where they were in relationship to the City of the Dead, she thought she could see something following them out of the passages. At the very edge of her hearing, she heard something like the soft light footsteps of a woman. Sophraea was sure of it.
"Stop," she hissed at Gustin, tugging at the edge of his sleeve.
"Not here," he hissed back as they reached the intersection with three tunnels, the shortest passage leading to the Dead End door. "There's somebody ahead of us."
She heard a sob.
"No," Sophraea insisted, "there's somebody behind us." They were directly below the Dead End gate. In her double vision, Sophraea could see the iron bars shake. The sound of a woman sobbing echoed in her head, somewhere above, somewhere behind. Her sense of direction gone dizzy, Sophraea tugged again at Gustin's sleeve. "We need to stop.".
"Not yet," said Gustin, grabbing Sophraea's hand and dragging her toward the Dead End door.
From the middle tunnel entrance burst the plainly dressed bravo who they had seen earlier. His sword was drawn. His expression was u
npleasant.
"Stop!" cried the thief, unconsciously echoing Sophraea.
"Not likely!" yelled back Gustin, pulling Sophraea along at a clip of long legs that left her shorter strides nearly flying off the ground.
Over his shoulder, Gustin muttered a string of foreign words. Their pursuer faltered. Then with a growl like a wounded dragon, he pressed after them.
"That one never works on the run," gasped Gustin. "I've really got to stop trying it in situations like this."
"Are… you… often…" Sophraea panted.
"Yes. That's why I can talk and run. Keep going!"
They sprinted to the door, the burly fighter barreling behind them.
Sophraea and Gustin crashed into the door. Sophraea beat out the Carver's secret knock in rapid haste with her small fists, still clutching the old shoe.
"Hurry, hurry, hurry!" she whispered. -.
She could see their pursuer in her mind; imagine the slash of his sword's blade.
His outstretched hand brushed her shoulder.
Gustin swung around, his clenched fist crashing into the thief s face. That didn't stop their attacker. He fell back with a snarl, then lunged toward them, his sword slashing. Sophraea ducked, throwing herself against Gustin to knock him out of the way. As they fell sideways, the sword's blade hit the door at the height where her head had been.
She was sprawled against Gustin with her arms outspread. He tried to free his hands, caught between them. She struggled to get off him so he could use his wand.
Sophraea pushed her hand into Gustin's chest for leverage, then swung backward with her arm extended. She tried to close her fingers tightly around the lantern's handle, felt the jolt as it hit the thief. The lantern clattered to the floor.
This time the thief shrieked in pain. He wiped blood from his face and lunged toward her.
Sophraea screamed. Feeler and Fish flung open the door and Gustin tumbled inside the room. She fell toward their outstretched arms, almost reached them.
Seeing a tall man with writhing tentacles for hair and another with a double row of shark teeth, the thief hesitated. Then he saw the glitter of the gold shoe in Sophraea's out-flung hand.
City of the Dead w-4 Page 9