"Betrayal," Twilight whispered as she lifted it.
"What?" Liet started.
Twilight didn't seem to hear. Her eyes locked on a certain blue gem medallion wrapped around the blade's hilt. Unobtrusively, she untangled it and secured the chain around her throat, leaving the pendant to hang beneath her torn chemise. Liet stared at her, curious, until Twilight returned the gaze. He looked away, balancing his sword.
"You know how to use one of those, then?" Twilight asked in his ear, and he whirled. He almost hit her in the face with the blade, and if she hadn't moved her rapier to parry, he would have slashed her. He thought he saw sparks.
"Well, uh, yes," Liet said. "The point, anyway."
"Well," Twilight said. She brought a hand up to her cheek and flicked the blade wide with a wink. "See that you mind it well."
Liet didn't know what she meant, but the way she said it made him flush.
Asson declined a weapon in favor of his staff. One item remained for Davoren and Slip to dispute-a small mace that would have been a weighty bludgeon in the halfling's hands.
"I care not," Davoren said. "My gifts are all the weapons I need." As if to reinforce the point, flames danced in his eyes. Liet shuddered.
Farther into the chest came further spoils, including a suit of golden mail fitted for Taslin, a pair of vambraces too large for any but Gargan, and a shield Liet himself claimed. Built of stout wood, with a sheath on its reverse for a dagger, the shield pleased him greatly.
Asson laid claim to a pouch seemingly of spellcasting ingredients. Twilight discovered a black belt holding lockpicks, tiny crossbow quarrels, and myriad small devices. Beneath these lay a pair of black gauntlets decorated with snarling devils that no one would claim except Davoren. The chest held a further collection of mixed equipment, including empty waterskins, rope, and a grappling hook. Slip seized a largely empty sack that seemed to contain scraps of cloth and a strand or two of rope. Taslin's eyes lit up when she removed a cloth-wrapped bundle, and she handed it to Asson reverently.
And beneath, folded, stacked, and reasonably clean, were-to Liet's weary eyes and filthy limbs-the greatest prizes of all.
Clearly, Twilight agreed. "Thanks be to Lady Doom," she whispered. Then, without a thought to modesty other than turning her back, she threw off her tattered shift.
Liet stared. As the elf's prisoner garb was tossed aside, and before her long, loose hair could fall down her back, Liet glimpsed a black tattoo of a many-pointed star at the base of her spine. He heard a sharp intake of breath and saw Taslin stiffen beside him.
He gaped, stunned by Twilight's abrupt lack of clothes, for a single breath before she spun back. Black trousers fit her slim legs snugly, while a white, billowing blouse lay light and loose around her soft curves. With a flourish, she added a deep scarlet half cape to the ensemble and pulled a leather glove onto her right hand.
She must have realized they were staring-the women in shock, the men in disbelief. "What?" she asked as she belted the sword around her slim waist.
A chorus of murmurs greeted her question.
The halfling grinned. "That's a nice sword!"
Twilight's hand flicked to her rapier hilt, fingers brushing the star set in its dusky steel. Liet realized that it matched her tattoo, which, in turn, led him to think about her mark's position, and he felt his face going hot.
Liet found an earthen-colored tunic of his size in the strongbox, and hugged it to his chest. He felt Twilight watching him, her eyes searching, and he wished he could turn invisible. He resolved to change in one of the open cells. Davoren and Slip had already left to do so. Taslin seemed to care about nudity as little as Twilight did, though she changed with a little more propriety-standing behind Asson.
Further rooting brought a new matter to light-only six sets of clothing.
"Not a difficulty," Asson said with a shiver. "My robe will be enough."
Taslin looked a question at him, but the old man just smiled. Twilight's appraising gaze went to him.
Then Gargan tossed a red robe he'd meant to use as a loincloth to Asson. The goliath ripped off his ragged tunic and wrapped it around his waist, girding himself snugly. His gray muscles gleamed, punctuated by odd gem-colored growths that sprouted like pebbles from his skin. With his heavy axe, Liet thought Gargan looked more dangerous divested of clothing than he would have in full plate.
"We are ready, then," Twilight said.
Davoren rolled his eyes. "So lead, leader." He'd reappeared in tight dark leathers slashed through with red, like bloody cuts. His wrists were covered by black bracers with hideous, fiendlike faces melded into the leather. A black hooded cloak swirled around him to complete the ensemble. That they were his clothes was obvious-no one else would have worn such garments.
Twilight didn't address her reply to the warlock. "First, we escape." She pointed up at the trapdoor Gargan had wedged open. "Second, we look for food and water. That troll's alive, so there must be food-unless, of course, he just eats prisoners."
The warlock smirked.
"I can address our hunger," said Taslin. "The powers of the mighty Corellon-"
"Have peace." Twilight glared at Taslin dangerously, her eyebrows furrowed. The priestess returned the look, concerned, then nodded.
Asson unwrapped his parcel-a spellbook, Liet realized-and caressed its worn cover. "I look forward to reuniting with this little tome. And using it to our aid."
Davoren just scoffed.
"Good," Twilight said. "Now then. Slip?" She gestured toward the trapdoor.
"Aye, Mistress!" the halfling said cheerily.
There was a pause as they each stared at Slip-and she stared back.
Finally, Twilight coughed. "The rope," she said behind her hand.
"Oh," Slip said. She looked down at the rope and grappling hook she had been tying in many creative knots. "Right!"
With a shudder, Liet got the feeling that with Davoren's malevolence, Twilight's whimsy, and Slip's inability to focus, they were probably all going to die.
Twilight waited until last, watching as they all climbed up. Liet lingered as well. She watched several times as he started for the rope, then turned back, too hesitant to make the climb.
He moved to help Asson, but Gargan lifted the frail old man himself. Even this seemed to weaken the wizard, and he sat in the upper room, coughing and sputtering while Taslin chanted another spell. The goliath exercised his huge muscles and hoisted his wide frame up after them. Liet retreated to the shadows, his hands flexing impotently.
When they were alone and Liet still stared at the rope, Twilight shook her head.
"I appreciate the vote of confidence," she said. "You must not know how many men Betrayal has led to their deaths."
"Oh," Liet said.
Between them, there came an awkward pause.
She clapped once, startling him. "You're confused."
He blushed. He did that often. "N-nay… er, aye, I s'pose. I… er…"
"Betrayal," she said.
Liet blinked and his mouth opened, but no words came out.
"What I said before," Twilight said. "The name of my sword. Betrayal."
"Oh." He fidgeted. "Charming."
"Are you going to climb, or is there something else?" Twilight's eyes narrowed and her lip curled suggestively. "You saw something you appreciated, eh?"
Turning away to hide an even rosier blush, Liet stuttered. "I–I d-didn't want to say it in front of the others…"
"I was right."
"Well," said Liet. "Even though I've had a little training- with swords, I mean-I'm… I'm not much of a warrior. 'Tis just that… uh…"
"You're afraid, and you want me to watch out for you," guessed Twilight.
Liet cleared his throat. "Uh… aye. Yes."