by Unknown
Zeal pointed to the wall. “The other blades hanging there do not bear her mark.”
Fronc took the sheath that belonged to his knife. “I like this one and will keep it to use tonight.”
Nester smiled and acquired a different long knife and sheath. “I’ve had my eye on the one with the curved blade.”
Zeal took down a brace of throwing daggers. The two remaining long knives he handed to Mehrle and Tulip. “We can leave our gear at the bottom of the stair. Iris will watch over everything till we return. It would look odd if we don’t show for the evening meal. Our mentors would probably start searching for us. Everyone meet back here at dusk. We kit up and head to the warehouse after darkfall. I know of a way to get us inside without being seen.” Each apprentice looked up from their weapon and met his eyes as Zeal looked toward the table’s empty sixth chair. “I think we are ready to help get Liddea back.”
As he left the room, Tulip donned her pack with the knife in it and then handed a quiver from the wall to Mehrle, keeping a second for herself. Together, they followed Zeal into the corridor. Nester and Fronc stared momentarily at each other before gathering their gear and hurrying out.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THE SUN HAD GIVEN away its last ray of red-hued light by the time the apprentices gathered together in the mausoleum. Under Iris’s watchful eye, their final preparations were completed.
Zeal donned his pack and pulled down the night hood, concealing his features. “Thank you again, Iris. When we return to the Temple, I’ll report back to you.”
“You must bring Liddea to meet me as soon as she has recovered from her ordeal.”
Zeal grinned. “We will all escort her. I doubt anyone wants to miss seeing the look on her face when the two of you become acquainted.”
Mehrle sighed. “Zeal, that’s not very nice. Liddea could never conceive of an entity such as Iris.”
Nester laughed. “He is right, you know. We all want to witness their meeting.”
Mehrle held her head down and tried the hide her smile. “Yeah, we do.”
Iris touched each of them on the forehead. “Be safe in your travels, young ones.”
Led by Mehrle, the five children left the mausoleum, crossed the graveyard, and ghosted into the wood, remaining in the trees until they reached the wall that marked the western boundary of the Temple grounds.
Fronc removed the rope from his pack, loosened the coil, and spun his arm twice. The grapple traveled up over the wall’s crown and settled with a muffled click. He pulled back on the rope till the tines caught securely. Hand over hand, his comrades climbed, while he maintained tension on the rope.
All but Zeal disappeared over the other side of the wall, using a second rope to descend. Zeal stayed above and spotted for Fronc.
Mehrle had them wait to make sure they were unobserved then indicated with her fingers that Zeal was to lead the way.
Staying in the shadows, he initially kept to the streets but soon directed them to the rooftops.
A half mark passed by the time they were crouched near the edge of the roof of a structure that overlooked the alley at the rear of the Silver Bell.
Together, they surveyed buildings, rooftops, alley, and street to detect any observers. Reassured they were alone, Zeal lowered himself down. Those left above would notify him if anyone approached. He felt along the surface of the wall of the shop to the right of the hidden door for the small concealed panel Bell had told him about. Finally, the sensitive tips of his fingers found what he was unable to see.
His frustration began to mount as the cover resisted his attempt to open it, and he thought he was taking too long. He feared someone could walk through the alley and spot him and was about to admit defeat when he discovered a small seam. Inserting a thumbnail, he slid the cover open easily, exposing the lock underneath. The new picks enabled him to quickly work the mechanism. He opened the door just enough to reach in and unhook the tension rod, disarming the trap set inside.
When he whistled softly, the others joined him, and he directed them to move into the workroom as he returned the cover over the lock and entered behind them.
Tulip lit a candle. Zeal used the light to point out the door’s trap and had everyone watch him reset it, thereby insuring each could disarm the trap, if need be.
Zeal whispered, “There is a hidden corridor below that will take us to the warehouse.”
Fronc’s eyes danced with the candle’s light. “How come you know all about this?”
“Bell showed me the passageway the evening of Liddea’s disappearance. I doubt our mentors will suspect us to use this route to spy on them. Everyone keep quiet. Sound carries.”
Zeal squatted behind the table and pressed and twisted the desk’s leg clockwise until he felt a click. The flooring under the desk silently dropped to reveal the hidden ladder that led downward.
He waited to descend last. The dry air was cooler in the passage. When he was there before with Bell, they had traveled in darkness. Tulip’s candle provided illumination. It dawned on him that it was not the light from her candle he found comforting but the flame itself. He moved to the front of the party and led them forward.
A rat scurried past them as they crept along. Zeal thought that if a cat could see in the total darkness, it would have good hunting down there. When they reached the wall, he put his fingers to his lips, indicating that everyone should remain quiet, and then located the peephole Bell had used, leaned forward, and blew out Tulip’s candle. The darkness encased him soft as a velvet cloth. He waited for his eyes to adjust before sliding aside the hole’s slipcover and peering into the chamber. Unlike when he had accompanied Bell, the room was dark; there was no lit lantern.
Zeal triggered the hidden mechanism that opened the door and peered inside. The room was indeed unoccupied. “Wait here,” he whispered. A floorboard creaked loudly when he crossed the chamber to the opposite door. The noise seemed overly loud. He stopped to listen; the only sound he heard was his own breathing. Stealthily, he opened the door. The short hallway that led to the steps used to gain access to the warehouse proper was shrouded in darkness. He clicked his tongue twice then oriented himself on the sound of nails scratching wood to return to his comrades.
He spoke to them softly. “Everyone grab a hand. I will guide us across the room, into a hall, then up a set of steps to a landing in front of another door that leads into the warehouse. We should be able to overhear our mentors as they plan Liddea’s rescue. If anyone has a question, you better ask it now.” No one spoke. “Okay, let’s go.”
Zeal miscounted and arrived at the stairs sooner than he’d expected. He allowed his companions to climb past. When he joined them at the top of the stairs, he discovered Mehrle had the door.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
SLAG PLANNED TO be the first to arrive at the warehouse so that he would have a little time to clear his thoughts before the meeting began. Dressed in supple black leathers, he was armed with a scimitar and a long dagger. Both blades had been blackened. In his right hand, he carried a small backpack containing his kit. A faint sound seemed to emanate from above, but he resisted the urge to look up as he knelt to set the kit aside and light his lantern with a tinder twig from his belt pouch. He peeled off his night hood, folded it lengthwise, and tucked it on to his belt.
“Well done, Master Turk. I am pleased you and your Set are here, prepared to go work.”
Six black silk ropes dropped from the rafters. Six figures slid down and landed in a circle around him. One removed his full face mask and spoke. “Good guess? Or did something clue you in on our presence?” Turk looked at each member of his Set.
“I heard leather scrape against wood. An uncovered weapon’s sheath, I presume.”
“Take care of the matter.” Turk did not address his comment to any particular member as he repositioned his mask and turned to Slag.
Slag examined Turk and his Set in the lantern’s light. The group of four men, including Turk
, and two women were dressed in black cloth made of rare Anrotean Spider Silk. Each member was armed with multiple weapons, some seen and others unseen, however each individual favored. The Set was the Trade’s hand of enforcement answered to the Trade Master alone.
Slag lit additional lamps which illuminated a corner of the warehouse. He turned when he heard the warehouse door open and Sloan enter. With him were eight others, five men and three women all of whom wore Watch Battle Dress: chain mail, shield, open-faced helmet, and red over-tunics with full kit. Their shields had a large “A” for Arlanda painted on the front. The Watch’s weapon of choice was a long sword. Sloan was the exception; he carried in hand a battle axe and wore his shield on his back.
“Master Sloan, good to see you. I think everyone knows each other. I wanted to meet with all of you before the healers arrived from the Temple.”
Before he could continue, the door opened again, and Bell walked in with five strangers, only one of whom was male. All were dressed in studded Cavalry leathers over chain. Feathered helms with face guards hid their features. Who are they? Slag wondered. The leader, one of the women, sported a buckler painted with the face of a wolf whose glowing red eyes seemed to stare at him. The pommel of her long sword, within easy reach over her left shoulder, ended with a wolf’s head. The animal was embossed on the leather over the left breast of each member of her party and adorned with crystal eyes. Each of the new arrivals was well armed, but one woman held a composite bone-and-wood longbow.
Slag had a nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The wolf symbol—he couldn’t place the meaning behind this important intelligence. The last two individuals placed a large chest on the floor in the center of the warehouse.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the honor to introduce to you Commander Casteel.” Bell indicated the leader with a nod of her head.
Sloan spoke up. “Didn’t a Commander Casteel once lead a celebrated mercenary regiment that disbanded for no known reason and has not been seen or heard of since?”
Commander Casteel lifted her face guard.
“Since I don’t use my rank any longer and it is just us few, why don’t we just stick with Izlan? I present to you my former lieutenants, who chose to stay with me in my new life. Charion, Landis, Patrice, and Martell.”
Slag watched them open their face plates as Izlan made her introductions. “What?” The word exploded from him unchecked. He felt like a fool for not having seen the Commander for who she really was. Izlan had never let on about her past. She was already established as the Matriarch of the Temple before he had become the head of the Trade in Arlanda. He had let her delude him into thinking she was a nosy, interfering bureaucrat who continually challenged him as he educated his apprentices. What a poor master of information he’d turned out to be.
He saw Bell smile at him as the light of recognition finally appeared on his face. “If I recall correctly, that unit was known as ‘Izzy’s Raiders.’ Well played, Commander. It seems I have underestimated you all these seasons.” Slag then gave Commander Casteel a deep bow. “I knew you had a bark, but I see now you have also always had a bite. One much bigger than I had imagined.”
Bell chuckled at Slag’s discomfort. “I was as surprised as you are, Trade Master, to discover the Commander’s secret.”
“How did the commander of Izzy’s Raiders become the Matriarch of the Temple of the Ladies of Life?” Sloan asked.
Izlan’s expression became sly. “As an orphan, I was raised there. I was informed, let’s say, by a certain Flower that, once I was educated and seasoned by life’s many experiences, I would one day be asked to assume the position of Matriarch. The summons was sent to me twelve seasons ago. Different skills from my past have occasionally been called upon. Tonight, I get to use a few of my favorite ones.”
The discussion was interrupted by a knock on the door followed by the entrance of Qwen, who was accompanied by Dock Master Breen.
“I do hope we are on time.” Qwen, dressed in sky blue, closed the door behind him. “I encountered the good Dock Master as I walked up.” He quieted when he saw Izlan and the others from the Temple dressed in full kit.
Bell spoke up. “Let me introduce you to Commander Casteel and the command unit formerly known as Izzy’s Raiders.”
Qwen continued forward. “Thank you, Bell, and well met, Commander. This day is full of surprises.”
“No, you are not late. Almost everyone is here that should be.”
The door opened, and Kaid rushed in. “Sorry. Would have been here sooner, but I had to take care of a small matter first.” He stopped suddenly, confusion on his face. “Matriarch, why are you and the others from the Temple suited up as you are?”
Bell laughed. “Kaid, I’ll catch you up later.”
He slowly advanced. “Right you will, and don’t leave anything out.”
Slag momentarily smiled. “Since we are all here, Qwen, would you please give us the lay of the land, so to speak?”
Qwen removed a scroll from a pocket located on the inside of his cloak. He uncoiled the parchment and held it waist-high out in front of him. The document remained suspended when he released it. He moved his left hand in a circle counterclockwise before snapping the middle finger and thumb. A large, illusionary representation of the wharf, including ships docked in their slips and the surrounding structures, replaced the scroll. Line of sight simulated the viewer located in the sky above, looking down at the wharf. Qwen indicated for everyone to circle around so that they could see more easily. He pointed at the vessel in the center of the illusion.
“The ship you see here is the Wave Dancer. There is a ship docked in the slip on the Wave Dancer’s right and one recently docked here, on her left.”
Dock Master Breen spoke up. “The ship to the Dancer’s starboard side is the Star Seeker and is run by a Captain Soaral. The ship to port is Chantil’s Delight. The Delight was moved there by Captain Mongref by my request. I thought it might be useful to have a platform close to the Wave Dancer to work from. Captain Mongref will be expecting additional crew tonight, if you know my meaning. Please continue, Master Qwen. Sorry to interrupt.”
“Thank you for the clarification, Dock Master. There is a chamber under the wheel deck on the port half of the Dancer’s stern. The room where Liddea and the four other girls are held has been imbued to prevent escape. It will hold even a Practitioner of the Arts. I was able to access the cell the girls occupy due to the destruction of the warding around the chamber’s barred window. As you can see, the Star Seeker is the same style of vessel as the Wave Dancer. Chantil’s Delight is smaller and has two masts instead of three. The Delight has one crow’s nest on the larger stern mast. The Dancer and Seeker have two, one on the mast forward and back, but not the middle one. There is a water tower here, located across the boardwalk behind the ships. You can see everything from the tower—the ships, the tavern on its right, and storehouse on its left.”
Slag wondered if they would have to deal with a Practitioner during tonight’s mission. If so, it would be up to Qwen to protect them from another Practitioner of the Arts.
Kaid looked around at the others. “How do we obtain permission to board the Wave Dancer?”
“That is the easy part,” Slag replied. He knelt down, opened his pack, and removed a scroll, which he handed to Sloan.
Sloan unrolled the document and began to read then looked up with a smile. “Ah, a warrant for inspection of the Wave Dancer, signed by the Magistrate with his seal affixed. This even looks like his signature.”
Slag smiled back. “It is his signature, and the seals are genuine. Of course, the body of the warrant was added later, and it lists the names of Liddea and the other four missing girls held on board. The Watch has permission to access and inspect said vessel and the legal authority to take any action needed.”
Sloan’s tone sobered. “So, all we have to do is walk up, serve the warrant, and go right to where the girls are. I doubt it will be that easy. The Wave Dance
r should have a crew of forty. We know nothing regarding how capable they are as fighters, and we will be a little outnumbered when we ask permission to board.”
“There’ll be additional help, from six new crew members of Chantil’s Delight, who will be waiting to cross over to Wave Dancer.” Slag indicated Turk and his Set. He then turned to Izlan. “Commander, how would you like to deploy your forces?”
Izlan studied the illusion. “Landis, which do you prefer, the water tower or the crow’s nest on the Delight?”
Landis pointed. “The crow’s nest will be better.”
“The rest of us will accompany Officer Sloan. That should even the odds.”
Kaid whistled softly. “Nineteen against forty? Commander, you make it sound so easy.”
Slag saw Izlan’s eyes grew steely and felt a chill move up his spine as she said, “We plan to make sure those responsible do not walk away. Do try to keep up.”
He held up a hand. “You can be assured that we are all of similar mind.” No matter how confident Izlan was, however, he was still worried about those who might become injured or die conducting the rescue.
Sloan nodded. “It will be an honor, Commander. I suggest we wait to approach the ship till the night’s last mark, when most on board are asleep. That will allow time for everyone else to get in position.”
Kaid gave Slag a subtle nod, quietly backed away from the group, then left out the door.
Slag turned to Sloan. “By the way, Sloan, where is your Watch Commander tonight?”
Sloan sighed before he answered, “Sadly, I lost a pass for dinner and entertainment that was good for tonight only at the Blue Crystal House of Pleasure in a dice game won by the Watch Commander. I was assured that the bearer of said pass would not have the desire or be in any condition to leave there tonight. Of course, there is an alternate plan, if the Watch Commander somehow manages to miss his night of entertainment.”