by Ed Greenwood
"Damned funny way he has of showing it," Rolph growled. "Ruldroon any better yet?"
"Well, he won't be climbing ladders anytime soon," the Lancecaptain replied heavily, his voice fading as he and Rolph followed everyone else down the stairs.
Tantaerra kept her sigh silent as she got up, stretched-then hastily crouched back down again as one of her feet started to go through the gutter. Every bit as rotten as she'd feared.
So, now? Down, yes, and that'd be an easy climb with all these rough edges and sloppy finishes, but whither after that?
Someone barked an order in the barracks yard below. Ah, yes, the gods forbid soldiers of Molthune would do anything stealthy or sensible. Not with Lord So Mighty High Investigator around.
Boots crunched on loose stones, spears were grounded, swords clanked. That'd be the best patrol.
"You will obey me," Lord Investigator Osturr said, his voice silk over ice. Someone's spear trembled.
"We search this barracks first. First rank, out and form a cordon, looking in. You and you, stand behind them facing out, to guard against attack. The rest of you, search room by room, and report results for each room back to me, as you deem it clear or have trouble to report. We'll begin with the cellar, if you have one, and work our way up to the rooftops. Cordon first, and call when ready. Watch for anyone seeking to flee."
Dung! Steaming, dripping dragon dung!
She had to get out and gone before that cordon-
Tantaerra put her foot firmly through the rotting gutter, pulled it back up again, and tore off a piece of wood with a crack loud enough to echo off the roof, then tossed it over the roof peak, just high enough to clear.
It landed with a tiny crash on the far side of the roof, bounced once and made a second, tinier crash, then fell to the ground below.
Men shouted and rushed, spears waving wildly.
Good, they were headed around the far end of the building, which meant she-
"That was thrown, idiots. The first sounds came from up there."
The Lord Investigator was standing just below her, looking up. Three guards were with him.
"A child-no, a halfling. You do own some crossbows, do you not? And know how to use them? Go and get them and shoot it down, but alive. I need some questions answered. I think it highly unlikely a masked halfling could fool even Halidonese merchants into thinking he was a man-even with stilts, or a chair. Yet what better spy than a halfling? And Nirmathas has spies everywhere."
Gods spit, was this man for real? He sounded like a bad actor in one of those tavern-stage satires Hroalund had liked so much.
Two of the Molthuni soldiers were hurrying back around the tower, no doubt to fetch those crossbows. Leaving just this devilspawn Lord Investigator and one bloodcoat.
Which meant her time, if she was to live much longer, was now.
Tantaerra sighed and started to undress.
"Whoa! Lord-"
"I do have eyes, soldier. They're called 'breasts' in polite company. Even halfling ones. You are professional enough not to be distracted, I trust? Good. Have your spear ready for when she jumps. Mind you aim low, away from the face and the heart. I'll need her to live long enough-"
Overvest and tunic bunched up and firmly clenched in her teeth, Tantaerra launched herself off the edge of the roof, the plump little bags she'd retrieved from her armpit-slings in either hand. She'd only have one chance at this.
She threw almost gently, trying for accuracy.
And almost missed the bloodcoat's face anyway-but the bag from her right hand caught the Lord Investigator square on the nose, and burst in a dark red cloud covering the two men.
The Lord Investigator shrieked helplessly as his face was drenched in pepper, but still got his sword out lightning-swift as he staggered, slashing the air wildly and blindly.
And she was falling right into that steel, was going to be hacked by this too-clever Molthuni shark-ass after all …
The instant before steel bit into her, the sneezing, helplessly sobbing soldier staggered right under her, spear falling from his hand-and got butchered by the Lord Investigator instead.
Tantaerra bounced off his head and shoulder into a hard landing in the street as his dying gurgle began.
Soldiers were running hard from around both sides of the barracks now, but the blind and suffering Lord Investigator was rushing about and hacking like a madman, and they slowed warily to try to go wide around him.
"These blades," Tantaerra could not resist calling out cheerfully, "are not for show."
Then she was off and running again, her tunic back down to her waist as she raced into the night. In the direction of the forest, just as fast as she could, before-
A Molthuni bloodcoat trudged out of a side street, spear in hand. Behind him were more, a dozen spears at least, and a hooded lantern.
"Thief! Runner! We've got us a runner, lads-after him!"
"And so, as always, it comes down to me being entertainment," Tantaerra gasped aloud in amused exasperation. She sprinted one street closer to the forest, then was forced to swerve north again to avoid a crowd of men spilling out of a pitiful rural excuse for a tavern in order to watch the chase.
She'd never wanted to be a thief, and was just about out of thieves' tricks, but how else was an escaped slave to eat? If she could become a citizen of Molthune, now-
Later. She'd chewed on such thoughts too many times, these last few days, and this was no time to be gnawing on them again. She'd need all her wits to get clear of this legion of enthusiastic bloodcoats-and how by all the grinning gods could Molthune field armies to pillage and plunder her beloved Nirmathas at all, if a backland logging village had this many dolts in uniform? After all, whether veterans or clumsy untried recruits, they all had to be paid, and eat and drink every day.
The small, no-two-alike homes that leaned against each other in clusters were giving way to muddy spaces, and fences, and huge barnlike buildings that had to be warehouses.
The shouting soldiers were right behind her, lanterns bobbing and spears glinting in all directions. They seemed to have gained reinforcements; there were dozens of them!
Soon she'd be out amid fields, in the moonlight, with nowhere to hide except the wild forest on her left-and she'd have to plunge dangerously deep into it to shake off this many pursuers, with no time to climb or hide.
Uncaring stars twinkled down. Molthune stretched off in gently rolling hills as far as she could see to the north and east, and-and she'd be damned if a bunch of heavy-booted Molthuni bloodcoats were going to catch her after all this!
There were more than ten warehouses, and that might just be enough, if she could start some sort of fire or loose some draft-beasts or start some other distraction.
Aye, always the "if," as the saying went.
She had to get in among them, far enough ahead of all of these bellowing bloodcoated heroes that they couldn't see precisely where she went, and try to get inside a warehouse that wasn't empty, without leaving obvious signs of her entry.
At a dead run, in the middle of the night, in a place she'd never been before, with a few panting seconds to manage it all.
Grinning gods, why was anyone fool-headed enough to try thievery?
Well, perhaps most of them were as desperate as she was.
She took the second muddy cross-trail, between warehouses and their fenced-off paddocks. The dirt fields stood empty-no one had carelessly left wagons or tethered beasts or anything else she could let loose or topple or otherwise use to slow the pursuit.
Tantaerra sprinted, huffing for breath, feet slapping on the dirt. She had to be fast and nimble, and all that mattered now was staying alive.
Damn these bloodcoats and their heavy-booted enthusiasm! Why couldn't they all hie themselves off to Canorate and do something useful, like keeping the peace in that city of seething feuds and cutthroat traders? How much guarding did trees need, anyway?
The soldiers were as thick as a stone wall between her an
d the forest, but if she went the other way, back down the spine of muddy, ramshackle Halidon …
Blast it, no! Her only way to there, the road she'd come down after getting clear of the barracks and turning this way, was blocked by three bloodcoats.
Older men, by their faces, veterans who had formed a careful and determined barrier, spears held low and ready before them, spaced close enough to be effective, but not so close that they'd be in each other's way. The tallest one had drawn his sword and planted it upright in the road, handy for him if he needed it-and in her way as she ran.
Damn damn damn blast!
She'd have to turn back, and into all the waiting teeth in such disarray behind her, with that one capable guard chasing her and the rest of them angry but having had time to reorder themselves and close in around her …
No, they were closing in already! Trying to get past these three was her only chance, however poor …and it was slim and getting more skeletal by the second …
She ran, heart sinking, right at their ruthless grins. This was it, this was-
Suddenly, one of the three soldiers was moving. Face startled, helpless-
Thlangg!
Someone she could scarcely see in the darkness, someone dark-garbed and strong, had just grabbed the necks of two of the three soldiers from behind and dashed their helmed heads together.
Tantaerra got a glimpse, just for an instant, of a single bright brown eye peering at her from behind the Molthuni helms. Then it was gone, that ringing clang still loud in the air, as the two dazed bloodcoats were shoved hard into the third, grounding them in a brief chaos of thudding bodies and wildly kicking legs. Whoever had felled them darted off into the darkness-leaving a hole right in front of Tantaerra.
She sped through it.
Back into Halidon, into a darkness that held fewer spears and wildly waving lanterns and shouting men behind them, into-oh, blast.
Around a corner, now heading her way, came more Molthuni spearmen. In a tidy line that stretched right across the street, with a second rank right behind, who were holding aloft a bright row of lanterns.
She kept running toward them. She had to. There was a crossroads just ahead, but she knew before she reached it what was waiting on her right, where the forest was. Yes, there-a few more bloodcoats, spears lowered.
She turned left, right back to the barracks that almost had to be nigh deserted by now, with all these soldiers in the streets. It would be a bit too much to hope that a still-blind Lord Investigator would still be hacking the air in all directions …
It was. She saw moving helms catching the moonlight, just two-no, three-and then lanterns were unhooded to her right. More bloodcoats! This place must be a patrol-base with a big garrison, gods spit and spew …
With a savage snarl, Tantaerra turned left again, and ran along the barracks fence. Back toward the warehouses.
She was being herded.
At least the lanterns and the shouting she'd fled from were still over there, one street closer to the forest, and not waiting in front of her.
One soldier was sprinting back to intercept her, though.
"What," Tantaerra almost sobbed at the moon, "have I done to enrage you so thoroughly, gods? What?"
She kept on running, but drew her two daggers. Her only two daggers. She had a stabbing needle, too, but this Molthuni ahead would have to embrace her and raise her to his unprotected face for that to be any good.
She would need luck to manage this, and it would only work if he were alone and she gave him no time to set himself and be ready.
"Haaaaa!"
He charged around the corner of the fence at her, spear to the fore.
She threw her first dagger hard at his face-and he struck it aside with his spear, laughing-which left him no defense at all against her second knife, flashing end over end like a hungry fang, right into his mouth.
Damn. She'd been trying for an eye.
But he staggered, choking, fell hard on one knee, clutching at his throat-and she ran right up him and buried her stabbing needle in his right eye, then let her speed carry her past his head. She caught his chin and jerked his head around, trying to slow herself, and landed on her feet, behind him and facing him.
She needed both her daggers back. Fast.
She plucked the first out of his mouth and went back into the road-gloom to seek her second.
Bloodcoats were running from the barracks and from the patrol with all the lanterns. If she couldn't find her dagger in a few panting moments, she'd have to abandon-there!
She scooped it up gratefully and ran, fangs in both fists, heading for the nearest warehouse.
It looked about as inviting as a fortress, high unbroken walls looming up in front of her, moonlight bathing the nearest one …so the one beyond, then. Behind and around this fortress …yes! It had neat stacks of barrels along its east wall, and-was that a vent-door, propped open?
Gods be thanked, a whole row of open vents, and the same in the next warehouse, beyond!
Using her daggers like climbing spikes, Tantaerra swarmed up and over the fence. Climbing the barrels was a series of swift, easy leaps, and then-
She plunged through the nearest vent in a full, fast dive. If it was a long fall onto a hard floor within, so be it, she was-
It was a short fall, onto a hard and unyielding crate, but she bounced, wincing, and skidded to a hard stop.
Oh, but she was going to be sore in the morning. If, that is, she lived to see morning.
It was dark, and her arrival had raised dust. She sat up on the crate and saw more of them all around her, dark and looming and silent.
Resisting the urge to scramble, with the din of running bloodcoats growing nearer outside, she sat still, straining to hear.
Nothing. At least, nothing man-sized on the move or breathing hard, inside this end of the warehouse.
Tantaerra got down off the crate, sheathed her daggers, and felt her way cautiously along. She was in a loft, under the eastern eaves of the warehouse roof-there would be another loft facing her, that way, with an open gulf between where the pulley-hoists hung, with catwalks across where the trusses were doubled, for men with long hook-pikes to move crates like these about, to disturb the rats.
"Rats like me," she murmured, heading for the end of the warehouse. Any ladders up and down would be there, and-
There was a sudden roar from the other end of the warehouse, behind her, and the rattle of counterweights. Moonlight flooded in. The great end doors of the warehouse were being thrust open.
"Lanterns first!" The voice was clipped and cold. "No one goes haring off into the dark-that just gives our little rat a chance to slip out. Lamps to the fore!"
Lantern light flared, and Tantaerra saw dozens of helms and spears gleaming on that threshold. The bloodcoats were earning their coins tonight.
"All doors and stairs guarded," a new voice called, from outside those open doors.
"Good. Traevyn, guard these doors. No one not of us is to pass out. The rest of you: the lofts first. Search and secure, then look down to aid in searching the floor. Watch for crates that have been opened."
A soldier who knew his business. Damn him.
They were going to be slow, and careful, and thorough. She wasn't going to be able to escape.
Unless clouds took the moon away, and this warehouse had what she was hoping for.
It did.
Her heart leaped in hope as she found the wall-rungs, and the oiled rope tied to the topmost one that held the roof-hatch firmly shut.
The best warehouses had these; a way up onto the roof for repairs and for sun-drying damp sacks. The sun would bake her once day came again, but until then she might stay alive a little longer, if the moonlight wasn't good enough for bow-work. She was small enough to …
The knot undid with ease, kept from closing hard by a length of wooden branch shoved through the coils. The hatch opened almost soundlessly, and she eased herself through it, not daring to hope th
at moonlight flooding in wouldn't be noticed.
Yet there'd been no shouts, yet.
She let the hatch back down with infinite care, then rolled gently away from it, back from the roof edge, back south along the slope.
And into something that shouldn't have been there. Something that stiffened.
Tantaerra tried to roll away again, to get out a dagger-but a hand came out of nowhere to close like an iron clamp around her throat and haul her back again.
Bringing her nose to nose with its owner, a man who'd been lying asleep on the warehouse roof in the moonlight.
A man who was wearing a mask that covered his face from forehead to chin.
"So," he whispered into her face as she struggled to breathe, his other hand pinning her arm in place, keeping her from reaching her dagger, "are you some sort of intrepid Molthuni agent? The Bloodsworn Halfling Strike Force, or some such?"
Chapter Three
Ten Silver Weights
The mask didn't have to be on his face or next to his skin to whisper in his mind.
It was covering his crotch right now, under his breeches, but he could hear it firmly and clearly. Which meant this halfling was important.
Not that he could tell anything else about her. The mask was whispering the same word it always did.
Luraumadar.
Whatever that meant. The Masked was as sourly mystified as ever.
"Well?" he hissed, giving the throat he had hold of a little shake, ere he loosened his grip from throttling to merely tight. "Will you answer me, or die?"
"That's a hell of a way to begin negotiations," his tiny awakener croaked.
The Masked found himself grinning. "Always begin from a position of strength," he said.
So …a halfling woman, probably in her late thirties, and with the lined face of someone who'd known hunger often enough, despite the fact that she still had plenty of chest and hip on an otherwise scrawny frame. From Nirmathas originally, judging by her accent, but likely gone for several years now, as the accent was only faint. Running from the local Molthuni soldiery, but who wouldn't?
He let silence stretch to see what she'd fill it with. Shouts of bloodcoats calling to each other from the warehouse beneath them punctuated that waiting. Shouts that were getting closer.