Glass splintered. Shaa looked up and saw a Guardsman climbing through the remains of one of the oval front windows. The door heaved with a sound of creaking wood as it was hit by the weight of four strong men. Shaa looked around, then put his foot on the end of a bench and shoved. The bench slid across the floor and into the knee of the window-climbing Guardsman, who had just jumped to the floor. The knee folded sideways and the man fell against the wall. Shaa hoisted the semi-conscious Mont by his shirt and headed for the stairs.
“My window!” the tapster yelled. Then, “My other window, oh, gods, what next?”
“What indeed?” Shaa murmured. Mont took on his own weight and reeled up the stairs as three windows disgorged Guardsmen behind them. Shaa ran after him, hearing the front door disintegrate. Mont stopped at the top of the staircase and turned to look back. His mouth dropped open. Shaa swung an elbow at him, knocking him through the door leading off the landing, and then with his other hand withdrew a small membranous bladder from beneath his cloak. The bladder bulged and churned, its shimmering silver surface dancing with rainbow highlights like the skin of a fish. Shaa paused in the doorway, looking back at the five soldiers starting after him up the stairs, and grinned at them. He worked a fleshy valve on the bladder and carefully squirted a small stream of liquid onto the two beams holding the staircase to the wall. The liquid foamed, sizzled, and dug through the wood with astonishing speed. The staircase leaned over with a horrendous grinding screech, and then, with an even louder crack, it broke off, pivoted over, and hit the floor in one long THUDD! that shook the building, not to mention the soldiers who had been climbing it. A small noxious cloud hung in the air. Shaa bowed, stamped on the clutching fingers of the lead soldier, clinging desperately to the now-stairless sill, listened for the thump, and closed the door. “Fortunately they have yet to bring archers,” he said, clapped the dazed Mont on a shoulder, and sprinted down the hall.
Mont staggered after him. “What was that stuff you just used there?” he said.
The hall jogged off at an angle, and beyond the bend was the continuation of the staircase leading up to the third floor. “That ‘stuff’,” Shaa said, bounding up the steps, “was obtained at great cost and no little risk from a small amphibian resident in certain southern swamps.”
“Obtained? By you?”
“In fact, no.” Shaa reached the small landing at the top and saw the opening to a trap door in the ceiling above him. A beam slipped through a set of iron brackets held the trap closed. Shaa knelt, made a basket of his hands, caught Mont’s foot as he came off the last step, and pushed him into the air. “Wha?” Mont said.
“The beam, idiot. Push the beam.”
“Oh.” Mont heaved, dislodging the beam from the runners. The beam hit the floor on its end, narrowly missing Shaa’s foot, teetered, and crashed over. Mont pushed up, Shaa pushed Mont, and the trap door lifted slowly on wailing hinges. Then they heard pounding footsteps and renewed cries, but now from the second floor just below them.
“Grab hold,” Shaa shouted. He threw Mont upward through the opening, hearing a strangled yelp, bent, and seized the locking beam. A group of soldiers turned the corner below and trampled onto the steps. Shaa grunted and shoved the beam, the beam left the floor at the top of the stairs and flew downward, things were quiet for half-a-second, and then the air filled with wails and the sound of a vast crashing and bashing.
Shaa looked up. Mont had one leg over the trap door’s sill, and both arms. “I’m stuck,” he said.
“No, you’re not,” Shaa said. “It’s all a matter of attitude.” Mont strained and rolled over the edge onto the roof. “That’s much better,” Shaa continued approvingly. Mont’s face reappeared, and an outstretched arm next to it. Shaa jumped, caught the hand, and boosted himself out.
“Now what?” said Mont, panting.
Shaa let the trap door drop and surveyed the terrain.
They were on the roof of the Bilious Gnome’s building, a flat roof that sloped sharply down at the edges in a plane of shingles and rose here and there in a checkerboard of boxy rooms and platforms; the exit from the trap door was in the middle of one of the elevated platforms. The surrounding buildings were similar. “This way,” said Shaa. He broad-jumped across the gap to the next platform, took two running steps, and jumped again. Another leap brought him to the Bilious Gnome’s rear, overlooking an alley. The top floor of a four-story building confronted him across the alley, an unleapable gap up and away.
Mont joined him, much more cautiously. “If you don’t stop gritting your teeth,” Shaa told him, “your jaw will freeze up, making speech uncomfortable.” Shaa had produced a rope and small grapnel. He whirled it twice around his head and slung it across the alley.
“No,” Mont said, turning even whiter.
“The choice is yours,” said Shaa, irritated. The trap door they had left across the roof swung open with a clunk. The clamor of voices was again clearly audible, and did not sound at all pleased. Mont tugged on the rope. It was solid. Shaa braced his hold on the free end and gestured. Mont took a deep breath and a double handhold and swung out.
The Guard erupted out of the traphole, spotting Shaa immediately. Mont was halfway across. Shaa surveyed the distances, calculated rates of motion - a man with a bow appeared at the front of the soldiers. “Hold on!” Shaa yelled. He slapped a coil of rope around his waist, ran at the edge of the building, and dropped. An arrow streaked over his head, narrowly missing the tightening rope. Shaa swung out over the alley and hit the wall of the four-story building with both feet. The alley beneath was filling with troops. Shaa streaked up the rope, using all available feet and hands, pausing only to dislodge a large flowerpot from a convenient third-floor ledge, reached the roof, and flopped over the eave just ahead of a flight of arrows aimed fortuitously low. The roof was flat, and lacked Mont.
“Over here!” Mont yelled. Shaa spotted a waving arm on the next roof over, pulled the grapnel free as he passed it on the run, and vaulted over the edge. Mont caught him. “Why are you doing this?” Mont said.
Shaa found his feet and looked around. The next set of roofs went up and down, each a half-story different in height, like a long row of square sawteeth. “I need an adventure,” he said, launching himself at the next building.
“What?”
“There’s a curse,” Shaa said absently. “Come on.” He vanished over the edge.
5. SHOP TALK
Max slept poorly. Karlini had neglected to mention that even when the castle wasn’t executing a major move from place to place, it wasn’t exactly quiet. The castle spent the night like a person with indigestion from a meal involving onions and too many beans, shifting restlessly and rumbling under an occasional burp. At half-past six Max gave up and headed for the kitchen. Ronibet and Karlini were already present, looking equally haggard.
“Nice neighborhood you’ve got here,” Max said, squinting down at the table and trying to butter a roll.
“Some nights are worse than others,” Ronibet said. She had her nose balanced on the edge of a mug of coffee, breathing in the fumes.
A crackling and snapping sound came from one wall, up near the roof. They looked up as a green tracer of ball lightning burst through the wall, leaving it singed, and swooped through the air like a dying comet. It dove into a cauldron in a splash of green sparking water and disappeared. The water in the cauldron glowed a fluorescent forest green that slowly faded. They returned their attention to the table.