When his breakfast was delivered in the morning, Geran ate well. Then he set the two tiles he’d picked in plain sight atop the tray beside the dishes, and used a quill and ink to write “For Kirr” on a slip of paper under the tiles. He knocked on the door. “I’m done with my breakfast!” he called.
The council guards opened the door, and one came in to pick up the tray. He frowned at the two tiles. “What’s this?” he asked.
“For my young cousin Kirr,” Geran said, affecting a calm nonchalance he certainly did not feel. “He likes the ones with the dragons on them.”
The guard glanced at his sergeant, who stood by the door. The sergeant shrugged. “All right,” he said. “But check the paper and make sure he didn’t write anything more.”
The soldier inspected the note. “No, Sergeant. This is it.”
“Fine, then.” The council guard picked up the tray and backed out, keeping his eyes on Geran. A moment later, the keys turned again in the heavy lock.
Geran sighed and composed himself to wait. The real question now was whether Kirr would do what he thought the boy might do with the two new tiles, and he might not find out for hours yet. To pass the time he exercised again and then chose another book from the shelf to while away an hour or two.
The first sign of his plan’s success came about an hour later; he heard raised voices in the corridor outside his door. Geran set down his book and hurried over to put his ear to the door, but he could not make out anything with certainty. He returned to his book, but half an hour later he felt a familiar voice in his mind. Geran? Hamil said silently. If you’re there, look to your window.
The swordmage moved over and glanced out, but he did not see much. Then a small sound from over his head caught his attention. He ducked down and looked up as steeply as he could; Hamil clung to a rope a little above his cell’s window. I’m here, Hamil! he answered.
Are you well? The guards wouldn’t let me in to see you.
I’m well enough, but Sergen ordered his men not to allow anyone in to see me, Geran told him. Did you get the tiles?
I did, though I confess I almost ignored your cousin. He sought me out to show me his new dragon’s-teeth, and I didn’t think anything of it. Fortunately he was very persistent, and I finally paid attention just to humor him. Only then did he mention that you’d sent them to him. The halfling shifted a little and turned to set his feet on the top of the embrasure over Geran’s window. Keeping his voice to a whisper, he said, “Playing two dragon tiles together is considered bad luck in the south, you know.”
“I hoped you’d take it as a sign of distress. Listen, Hamil-I need to get out of this cell.” Geran kept his voice low. He did not think his guards could hear him through the thick door, but if one of them happened to slide open the viewport and check on him, he wanted to look as if he were simply staring out the window instead of holding a conversation with someone clinging to a line just outside.
“I’ve been waiting for you to ask, but aren’t you worried about embarrassing your uncle by making an escape?”
“I think Sergen’s planning something awful. I’ve got to stop him. He means to have my uncle killed, maybe the whole family. He’s got the amulet that the King in Copper gave to Urdinger. No good can come of that.”
Hamil fell silent for a moment. “The lich said that whoever wore the amulet could call on his minions.”
Geran nodded. “And Sergen told me last night that I wouldn’t have to worry about regaining my liberty again. I take that to mean he’ll have me killed in my cell, or he intends to make himself the master of my fate by seizing the throne. I have to believe that Sergen’s got the medallion now, because he’s going to call on its powers. We’ve got to get it away from him or at the very least warn my uncle and Kara about his intentions.”
“Agreed. Let’s figure out how to get you out of there.” Hamil studied the window and then descended a few more feet to examine the stonework below it. “Hmmm, I don’t think the window’ll work unless you can use your teleporting magic.”
Geran shook his head. “I need to see exactly where I’m going, and I’ll need a safe place to appear. Besides, I’m still in mage shackles. I can’t use magic.”
“It’ll have to be the front door, then,” Hamil said. “I need to arrange for some help, Geran.”
“Leave the Shieldsworn out of it if you can, Hamil. Many of them are sympathetic to my situation, but their duty is clear-they’re sworn to resist any effort to break me out. You can’t count on their help, but I don’t want to see them killed.” Geran paused, thinking his way through what Hamil would have to do. “For that matter, it’d be better if you could avoid a massacre of the council guards. I’d rather have them incapacitated than dead. The charges Sergen laid against me are groundless, but they wouldn’t be if we killed men assigned to keep me under arrest.”
“As long as you’re thinking of ways to make my job harder, why not ask for a purple horse with a golden saddle to ride away on?”
“If I were certain that Sergen intended to move against the harmach within the next day, I’d tell you to do anything in your power to get me out and damn the consequences,” Geran said in a low voice. “But I’ve only got suspicions, Hamil. I’m hesitant to kill over them.”
“Fine,” Hamil sighed. “I’ll see if I can free you sometime this evening.”
“I’ll be waiting for that purple horse.”
Hamil snorted in response. Geran heard a whisper of leather against stone and a small grunt of effort, and then the halfling was gone again, scrambling back up to whatever vantage he had descended from. The swordmage turned away from the window and surveyed his small room. A few more hours, he thought. He’d have to make sure he knew what to do once Hamil freed him. He sat down on the bed, his chin in his hand, and thought long and hard about the hours ahead. Then he composed himself to wait through the afternoon. He found that he had little appetite for his dinner, simply because he was growing anxious for Hamil, but he made himself eat well anyway; if things didn’t go well, it might be a long time before he had the opportunity to eat again.
After his dinner, Geran watched a spectacular sunset from his window, which faced toward the southwest. The gloom and drizzle of the last few days was breaking up; a great mass of tattered gray clouds drifted slowly eastward, painted rose and gold by the setting sun. The skies above the western horizon seemed dark and clear. Another stretch of cold weather and strong winds, Geran decided. Already whitecaps were beginning to kick up on the purple gloom of the Moonsea, splashing against the soaring shadows of the Arches that dominated the harbor.
Nothing happened until three hours after sundown, and when it did, it happened quickly. Geran heard a brief commotion in the corridor outside his door-a sharp cry of alarm, quickly cut off, followed by a shrill ring of steel on steel. Then he heard a deep, rasping voice hissing syllables of arcane power, words of might that made the door tremble in its frame. Streams of reddish smoke seeped from under the door, carrying an acrid reek that made Geran’s eyes water and his throat burn. Then the key turned, and the door swung open.
Hamil stood there with a handkerchief tied over his nose and mouth. And behind him stood the proud tiefling sorcerer Geran had encountered out on the Highfells. The tiefling wore a heavy, hooded black cape over his finely embroidered scarlet robe, but he still carried his rune-covered staff. “The shackles, quickly!” he hissed to Hamil.
The halfling hurried up to Geran with a set of keys in his hand. “Geran, you remember Sarth Khul Riizar. We’ve met before, of course, but circumstances didn’t permit a proper introduction.”
“Far be it from me to question anyone helping me to escape, Hamil, but what’s he doing here?” Geran asked.
“I decided that I needed the best help available, in case we had to fight our way out of Griffonwatch,” Hamil answered. “And given what you’d told me about Sergen and Aesperus’s amulet, I thought Sarth might know something about what your cousin’s got planned. So I asked after Sarth all over town this afternoon, found him staying in a very fine inn called the Captain’s House, and explained what was happening.”