Ivy frowned at Gunderal. She was not going to start a discussion about her cap in front of Sanval. After all, she doubted that officers of Procampur wasted time discussing the quality of their leather goods when they could be doing something else. Or, glancing over at the brilliantly polished boots that Sanval wore, maybe they did. But she knew that the Siegebreakers had better things to do. "It won't rain today," Ivy said as firmly as she could.
"I know, but really that cap! I swear there are teeth marks on the brim."
"Well, if you hadn't thrown it at the dogs and encouraged them to play tug-of-war with it… Took me forever to get it back!"
"I was just trying to discourage you from wearing it."
"Thought you wanted to see what Kid found in the tunnel," said Zuzzara, placidly stepping between the two of them. Since she was digging today, Zuzzara's braids were bound back from her face in a neat array, and she was wearing a sturdy leather waistcoat rather than one of the more ornate brocade ones that she favored in peaceful times. Heavily influenced by Gunderal's nagging, Zuzzara's style did not match the many other half-orcs roaming the North-the kind who typically wore rough untreated pelts with the occasional bone jewelry decoration.
Ivy, however, refused to heed Gunderal's criticisms. Ivy was a mercenary. Mercenaries wore what they could loot. That was tradition and certainly easier than commissioning matching sets of armor (and cheaper too). When something got too dirty or battered to wear, you grabbed something new or traded with the guy in the next tent over for what you needed. Ivy did not see the point of Gunderal's constant little lectures that inevitably started with "you would look so nice if only…"
"Maybe there is a way around the rotten spot?" the half-orc suggested, gently steering Gunderal away from Ivy. The wizard followed her with a sad little comment on how nobody really cared about beauty but her.
Grumbling under his breath about how nobody but him really cared about dirt, Mumchance hooked his dark lantern carefully to his belt and checked that his pick was securely fastened. "Tinderboxes?" he asked the Siegebreakers.
"I have mine," said Ivy. "Old fusspot, it's not that deep yet." She handed the old dwarf his short sword. As usual, he had taken it off and left it leaning against a tree trunk. He did not like fighting with it, preferring to use pick and hammer when he needed to.
"Hey, Zuzzara, where's your broadsword?" Ivy asked the half-orc. If Gunderal was obsessed with clean clothing, Ivy was equally obsessed with weaponry, or the defensive and offensive capabilities of it.
"Ivy, it's too heavy to lug all the way down here. Don't need it and don't want it today."
"Mumchance is fully armored. I'm fully armored. Captain Sanval"-she glanced over at the officer whose plate shone like a dozen mirrors in the sun-"is even wearing his helmet."
"Of course," he said, seemingly a little surprised that she had noticed him and said something that could be construed as a compliment. "It is a requirement that all officers be fully dressed in their armor if they leave the boundary of the camp."
"It's a good rule," said Ivy. "From now on, I want everyone to show up in full gear. We are close enough to the walls that we might be overrun by a raiding party or orc scouts."
"You are just saying that because you don't like to wear anything but your ratty old gear. And Mumchance is always more comfortable in chain mail than anything else," muttered Gunderal, who avoided armor whenever she could. Helmets, claimed the wizard, did unattractive things to her hair.
"Ivy is right," said the dwarf to Ivy's surprise. He usually argued with her on the general principle that any right-minded three-hundred-thirty-year-old dwarf knew more than a twenty-five-year-old human. "And you should all be carrying tinderboxes and extra candles for underground work. It is not like Gunderal could light a candle if we needed it."
"No, but I can use your flint and stone; you always have some with you," Gunderal said to the dwarf, unruffled by his comment. Her genasi heritage made all water spells fantastically easy for her-but it also caused fire spells to fail in a puff of damp smoke whenever she tried even the simplest flame tricks. "And there are other ways to light the dark, that don't need fire."
"Magic," grumbled the dwarf, as he led them to the entrance. "It's not wise to rely too much on magic. I keep telling you girls that, but you never listen to me."
"Yes, Mumchance," said Zuzzara and Gunderal together. "We know."
At the tunnel's entrance, Mumchance cocked his head and listened, then he whistled. A faint shout came back from Kid and a shrill yap from Wiggles.
"Probably safe," Mumchance decided. He jerked a thumb toward the officer from Procampur. "Is he coming?"
Ivy turned to Sanval. "Are you coming?"
"Perhaps I should stay here," said Sanval, looking at the dark entrance to the tunnel. Ivy was sure that he was calculating how long it would take his servant to clean his armor after squeezing through the dirty hole. "And guard the entrance."
"There's no danger," said Ivy, squeezing around Mumchance so she could go first. "None of Fottergrim's patrols have left the walls for days. And, besides, Gunderal has a potion to hide the entrance."
Once everyone had entered the tunnel, Gunderal extracted a crystal flask from her heavily embroidered belt pouch. She pulled the glass stopper out and carefully let three drops of the flask's contents fall on the ground. A pale smoke rose, darkening as it filled the entrance. "From the outside, it just looks like a shadow cast by one of the trees," Gunderal explained. "You have to step in it before you can see this hole."
Ivy shifted her sword from her side to her back and tightened the straps to keep it close to her body. The last thing she needed was to go tripping over her own blade when trying to show the tunnel to Sanval. She wanted to impress him with her explanations of the intricacies involved in undermining walls (and why those intricacies needed more than two days), not stumble about looking like an idiot. After a few awkward paces in she was able to stand upright.
As they advanced farther into the tunnel, Ivy explained to Sanval how they had used their own timbers to stabilize the roof.
"So it is safe now?" Sanval asked, as dirt continued to dribble down the walls, little clods landing behind them with soft puffs.
"For a rabbit," muttered Mumchance. "Anything heavier…"
"Is just fine," finished Ivy. "See, here's Kid and Wiggles."
Kid greeted her with a fleeting smile and a ducked head. Small and compact, with features almost as pretty as Gunderal, most people thought Kid was "sweet" until he dipped his long fingers into their pockets.
"Well?" said Ivy as soon as she reached him.
Kid stamped one hoof against the dirt and then moved two paces over and stamped again. Both stamps sounded the same to Ivy, and she said so.
"Little different, my dear," explained Kid. "Like Mumchance, I hear something wrong here." His pointed catlike ears were good; he often heard things that the others missed, and that was saying a lot in a group that included a half-orc, a half-genasi, and a full-blooded dwarf.
"Told you," said Mumchance, coming up to them. The others all clustered closely around to hear the discussion.
"All right," said Ivy. "The ground is a little soft." She stamped too. Her foot sank down into the dirt, and a little more dry earth trickled off a tree root above her head and dropped on her nose. Ivy sneezed.
"Ivy, can you move a little farther down the tunnel?" asked Gunderal, with a wrinkle of her delicate nose. "All I can smell is your boots."
Ivy obediently shifted behind Zuzzara, farther away from Gunderal.