by K. B. Bogen
Moments later, they reached the end of the alley and stepped out into the warmth and sunlight. Too warm, Erwyn decided as they were hit by a wall of stench from the sewage-strewn street.
He’d thought the smell was bad that morning. In the afternoon sun, it was almost overpowering.
Devydd had gone on ahead. After taking a second to catch his breath, Erwyn turned to follow. That’s when he heard Devydd’s warning.
“Uh-oh.”
“Can’t you be a little more informative?” Erwyn was at the end of his patience.
Devydd pointed to the end of the street. “Look.”
Erwyn looked. “Uh-oh.”
He checked the other direction. They were trapped. Two or three dozen of Perbellum’s finest were closing in on the two fugitives. And the smell didn’t seem to bother them.
Garbage In, Garbage Out
Get Your Tentacles Out of My Face!
“ALWAYS TEST THE WATER BEFORE TAKING A SWIM.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Four: On How to Have a Safe Trip
“Quick! Back the way we came!” Erwyn tugged on Devydd’s elbow before racing back to the alley they had just left.
Footsteps thudded behind him, which Erwyn prayed belonged to Devydd. He skidded to a halt beside the sewer entrance and knelt, trying to pry the cover off.
“What are you doing?” Devydd asked anxiously. “You’re not going to go down there, are you?”
“You got a better idea?” Damn! The cover wouldn’t budge.
“I guess not.” Devydd sounded dubious.
More footsteps sounded in the alley, heavier, slower, and at both ends. The guards could afford to take their time. Their quarry was trapped. Theoretically.
Devydd tried to help Erwyn with the cover. It still didn’t budge.
“I’ll just have to levitate it, then.”
“Great. But make it quick, will you?”
“I’ll try.” Erwyn tried to relax as he stared at the iron lid.
“Come on, come on.” Devydd muttered, softly this time, aware that their lives depended on Erwyn’s concentration.
The footsteps were getting closer, making concentration more and more difficult.
Calm down, Erwyn thought. You can do it.
Sweat trickled down his forehead, dripping into his eyes. He couldn’t seem to stop thinking about the guards. Why didn’t they just hurry and get it over with? The alley wasn’t that long.
Devydd moved closer behind Erwyn. A moment later, the thief’s hands closed over his ears, muffling the sound of the footsteps.
Erwyn closed his eyes and tried again to relax. He reached out with his mind and ... the grate moved!
In the end, Erwyn leaned over to push the grate out of the way. He was too exhausted to continue the spell. Devydd added his strength to Erwyn’s and the cover slid forward just as ...
“Halt!” The voice sounded like it expected to be obeyed, but Erwyn and Devydd ignored it. The young thief dropped into the sewer first. Erwyn all but fell after him.
He really had planned to replace the cover. That was before he discovered that the reason the streets were sewers was because the sewers were full.
Eight feet below street level, Erwyn found himself plunging into a river of the vilest, most disgusting sludge he had ever had the misfortune to go swimming in.
“Shit!” That was a mistake. Now he had the noxious stuff inside his mouth as well.
As thick as the sludge appeared, a strong current bore him, coughing and sputtering, out of sight of the entrance and into darkness.
Ahead, Erwyn heard a moan, followed by a bout of coughing and muffled curses. Devydd had made the same mistake as Erwyn.
And the moral of this story is, Erwyn thought, “When you’re floating in a sea of shit, never, never, never open your mouth!” He almost laughed.
The garbage streamed swiftly, and, Erwyn guessed, somewhat in the direction of the backside of the city. The smell was overpowering and the taste was enough to make him retch. Fortunately, he didn’t.
Under the circumstances, it was understandable that Erwyn didn’t think to light their way until they had gone quite some distance. Then, just as he was about to summon a ball of foxfire, he landed with an “Umph!” on something solid.
The something moved. And swore.
“Back off, you stupid ... ”
The rest of Devydd’s words were lost as he sank beneath the slime. Erwyn reached under the surface and dragged him up.
The thief coughed and wheezed for a while before launching his complaint again. “Next time someone comes along to rescue me from jail, I think I’ll just stay in my nice, cozy little cell, thank you. What the hell did you think you were doing, anyway?”
“Those guys looked like they wanted to carve us up for supper. I figured the sewer had to go someplace. The garbage goes in. It has to come out.”
“Yeah, it goes someplace, all right. An iron grill.”
“An iron grill?” Erwyn shoved his way past Devydd.
Pale grey light filtered through from the far end of the tunnel. Enough for him to see that they’d found a door with iron bars three inches apart set into it. The river rushed between the bars without letting up. Erwyn found himself washed against the grill, along with a lot of other junk. The junk stayed on his side of the bars. So did the muck.
He took a deep breath, clamping his teeth against his protesting stomach. Was it his imagination? No. There was a definite touch of fresh air on the other side of the door. Experimentally, he tugged, then shoved, at the gate. It didn’t budge.
“Now what?”
“As I suspected,” Erwyn said in his most supercilious manner, “the sewer had to go somewhere.”
“Well, what are you waiting for? Open it up.”
Erwyn turned on Devydd, though he couldn’t actually see him. “Look, friend, sorcery takes energy and I’m just about tapped. You’re supposed to be a thief. Why don’t you see if you can open it.”
“Hmmm. Okay, I will.” Devydd shouldered past the sorcerer, and Erwyn could hear him examining the gate with his hands.
“Would you like some more light?”
“No, thank you. It’s bad enough I have to smell this gunk. I don’t think I have the stamina to look at it too close. I’ll do this one by touch, if you don’t mind.”
“Okay.”
“It’s a simple latch, anyway. No problem.”
“If you say so.”
“It is locked, though.”
“That figures.”
“And slimy.”
Devydd fumbled in the gloom for a few seconds. Erwyn busied himself with looking at the dull light glinting of the rivulets of slime on the tunnel walls. Then the sorcerer heard a muffled thud! as Devydd’s hand hit the grillwork.
“Damn! It’s stuck, too.”
“I thought you said it was easy. You sure you don’t want some light?”
“I’m sure.”
“Have it your way.” Erwyn would have liked a little more illumination as something else moved along the tunnel wall. It couldn’t be water or slime. For one thing, it was going up. He watched the dark blob until it disappeared through the gate, about three inches from Devydd’s head.
“Damn!”
“You’re cer ... ?”
“No light!”
“Okay.”
“Damn!”
“You...?”
“No light!”
Finally, something clicked, but the grill stayed closed.
Erwyn sloshed forward to peer over Devydd’s shoulder and nearly tripped over a board that was stuck in the mud. After wiggling it free, he peered at it in the half-light.
“You know, I believe this gate marks the edge of Perbellum.”
“Oh, really?” Devydd grunted as he strained to open the g
rate. “What makes you think that?”
“This.” Erwyn shoved the board in front of Devydd’s face. The sign was dripping with muck, but they could just make out the words “Sewer Egress, Perbellum City Limits” on its surface.
“That’s nice.” He strained against the door again. “I don’t suppose you have anything on you to help me pry this open, do you? I seem to have left my sword in my other cell.”
“Not really.”
“Great! Grab my waist, will you?”
“Your waist? What for?”
“So you can add your weight when I try to open this thing.”
“Oh.” Erwyn grabbed the thief by the waist and pulled.
“Ouch! Could you wait ‘til I tell you to pull? You damn near jerked my fingers off!”
“Sorry.” Erwyn loosened his grip while Devydd grabbed the door again.
“Okay, now, pull!”
They pulled. And pulled. And ...
“Oops!”
That was the last Erwyn heard from Devydd as the current sucked them through the opening and onward to wherever the tunnel led. The door clicked shut behind them.
The water flowed a lot faster on the outside of the gate. They flashed past the source of the dim light — a hole set in the ceiling of the tunnel — and on into more darkness.
Erwyn struggled to keep his head up. Flailing his arms, he tried to find anything to grab onto.
His groping hands finally found something. A thick, wet, slimy something, with soft, bowl-shaped things attached to it. It curled around his waist, lifting him above the water.
Lights snapped on overhead. Two of them. With pupils.
Creature Comfort
Up the Creek Without a Boat
“CITIES FORTUNATE ENOUGH TO HAVE A WORKING SEWER ALSO TEND TO HAVE SOMETHING LIVING IN IT.” — Sorcerers’ Almanac, Section Five: On Things to Watch Out For
Erwyn was saved the trouble of screaming by Devydd’s strained “Uh-oh.” At a guess, Devydd was caught, too.
‘”You want some light now, or do you want to die not knowing what ate you?”
“L-let there be light!”
And there was light. A ball the size of Erwyn’s head. Which was dwarfed by the head right next to it.
“Cripes!” The eyes snapped shut and the tentacle holding Erwyn quivered. “Did you have to do that?” The monster blinked rapidly. “I mean, you could have warned me, you know.”
“Uh, sorry. I really didn’t ... ”
“It’s okay. I’ll live.” The creature peered at its captives.
Erwyn twisted in the creature’s hold. It didn’t seem to mean them any harm. Yet. Maybe he could reason with it. “Could you please set us down now?”
“Oh. Certainly.”
It placed them carefully on the ledge that paralleled the river, then it peered at them, as if not knowing what to do next.
Erwyn leaned back, trying to get the full picture.
The creature was roughly the size of a house, with a huge oval head, large eyes, no visible mouth, and bright blue skin. It heaved itself onto the ledge beside them. That is, it heaved most of itself onto the ledge. Some of it still trailed in the water.
“What are you?”
“The official, scientific name is triskadekapus. It means a creature with thirteen feet. Or, in this case, tentacles. But my name’s Felix. Welcome to my home.”
He reached out a tentacle for Erwyn to shake. The tentacle he was using to hold himself on the ledge. Without that one support, he fell kersplat! into the stream. Water and sludge flew everywhere.
“Thirteen? Isn’t that supposed to be unlucky?”
“I don’t know about unlucky,” Felix hauled himself, dripping and sputtering, out of the water, “but it certainly is inconvenient. I never can get a grip on that odd tentacle.” His face turned a deep purple.
Erwyn stared. Was the monster actually blushing?
Felix didn’t stay embarrassed long. “Oh, no!” He surveyed the damage from his inadvertent swim.
Erwyn followed his gaze. Felix’s “home” was a cavern, big enough to accommodate at least two Felixes, maybe three. Stone ledges ran along either side of the cave, confining the stream of sewage and providing display space for Felix’s belongings. All of which were now covered with filth, from the braided rug, to the pink lamp with the beaded fringe, to the lace doilies scattered on the rocks. Even the overstuffed white chair next to Erwyn hadn’t escaped.
Looking closer, the boy decided that maybe the spots on the chair belonged there. It looked like some sort of cowhide.
He eyed the triskadekapus warily. Had the creature bought the chair, or found it, or, Erwyn gulped, killed the cow himself? What, exactly, did a triskadekapus eat?
Felix had retrieved a pair of brown spotted rags from the nearest rock and stared at them in dismay. “My doilies!” He swished them in the water, but only succeeded in smearing the slime around. “They’re ruined.” He looked like he was going to cry.
“If you’ll excuse us,” Erwyn edged toward the other end of the tunnel ... and freedom, “we’ll just be going, now.” He nudged Devydd and the two of them headed away from the monster.
“Not so fast!” A slippery rope grabbed Erwyn around the waist again. Another had Devydd in a bind. A third wagged in the sorcerer’s face. “You two aren’t going anywhere until you clean up this mess. Lords know when the garbage pixie will come by again.”
“Hey! It’s not our f ... garbage pixie?”
“Don’t they have garbage pixies where you’re from?”
Erwyn shook his head. So did Devydd.
“Trash monsters? Litter basilisks? Sewer sprites?”
Erwyn shook his head again. “No, we just chuck everything onto the compost creep.”
“Well, a garbage pixie cleans the sewers and gutters, and maintains the filter spell on the grate. But ours has been on strike since Lord-Mayor Pain-in-the-Ass insulted him. Hasn’t been back for at least two months now. Since I can’t be certain he’ll be back at all, you boys will just have to clean up your mess.”
“I think that’s your cue, kid.” The thief eyed the grunge on Felix’s lace.
“My cue? How come it’s my problem? We didn’t actually make the mess. Felix did.”
“But the water was clear until you arrived!” Felix whined.
“He’s right, you know.”
“Why are you on his side?”
“Because he’s bigger than we are, and the sooner we get out of here, the better. Besides, magic works faster than elbow grease.”
“You’ve got a point.”
With the door closed again, the filter spell kept any more gunk from coming downstream, so the water in the channel was relatively clean. Most of the filth that had come past the grate with them had flowed down the tunnel and out with the water. So, all that remained was on the ledges and furniture. And, of course, the doilies.
“Anyone mind getting wet?”
Erwyn smiled at Devydd’s glare. He and the thief were already soaked to the skin and caked with slime. A little more water would be an improvement. And Felix lived in the sewer.
The only answer he could see to the problem was a nice rainstorm, a real gully washer ... or doily washer, as the case may be.
“Hold onto something. This may be a little rough.”
He meant the warning for Devydd, but Felix wrapped his tentacles around the nearest thing he could reach. Which happened to be Erwyn.
The young sorcerer squirmed, gasping, “Do you mind? If I can’t breathe, I can’t cast the spell!”
“Oops! Sorry.” The tentacles relaxed.
“Sure, no problem.” Erwyn took several deep breaths to make sure his lungs could still expand.
“Do you really think this will work?” Felix asked with some agitation.
&nbs
p; Erwyn shrugged. No way to know for certain until he tried.
In minutes, the rain had scoured clean everything in sight.
“You want me to dry everything, too?”
Felix flicked the water from the tip of one tentacle, then gingerly picked up one of the doilies. “No, thanks. It would probably ruin my upholstery. You boys run along. And mind you, watch out for my friend Oscar on your way out. He’s nice, once you get to know him, but sometimes he can be a real grouch.”
“Uh, yeah. Thanks.”
Felix started hanging his lace up to dry, and the two fugitives headed for the grey light at the end of the tunnel.
“If this sort of thing is going to happen very often,” Erwyn remarked as they left Felix’s cavern, “I’ll have to fine-tune my rain spell.”
“What for?”
“I’ll need different power levels for cottons, linens, wash and wear, and delicate fabrics. Maybe I could come up with a way to clean leather without getting it wet. Sort of a dry clean.”
“Personally,” Devydd responded, “I think I’d rather stick to doing my laundry the old-fashioned way, if you don’t mind, kid.”
Minutes later, they found the end of the sewer. Light streamed into the tunnel through a screen of trees and bushes. Unfortunately, all the muck they’d let in through the grate had piled up at the tunnel mouth. The aroma of standing sewage gave Erwyn a new appreciation for a fast trip through the tunnels.
The smell was unbearable. At least the air was moving in the passage. Here, it just hovered over the gunk, strong enough to melt nose hair. It also lay between them and the exit. And the ledge didn’t extend that far.
Undaunted, Devydd plowed through the muck toward the opening. Grimacing, Erwyn followed, stopping abruptly as the thief halted at the edge.
“Why don’t you go on through?” he asked as he sloshed up to the entrance.
“Because of them.” Devydd nodded toward the opening.
Erwyn looked through the screen of vegetation. Outside, a river flowed serenely past the sewer opening. And there, on the river bank, pounding assorted bits of clothing on the rocks, were ... women.