About halfway to the lift, however, he turned a corner and saw something that made him leap back faster than a Thrane kneeling to pray. Teeth clenched hard enough to ache, he peered cautiously back around the corner and into the street he had almost entered.
Biish and Vennet stood on the far side of it, talking to a pair of small goblin pups. Natrac couldn’t hear what the young goblins were saying, but they gestured vigorously and pointed down another street as if giving the men directions. One of the gestures the pups made caught Natrac’s attention in particular: the child drew the ragged collar of his shirt up across the lower part of his face, hiding everything below his eyes as if wearing a mask. Biish growled something at the pups, then spoke to Vennet. “They went this way.”
The half-elf rubbed his hands together in glee. “Right into the spider’s web! Come along! Come along!”
He strode off in the direction the pups had indicated, leaving Biish to catch up to him. The moment they were away down the street and safely out of sight, Natrac stepped out of hiding and went up to the pups before they could scurry away. “You boys following people for Biish?”
The larger-by the height of the hair that stood up on his small skull-of the two pups looked him up and down. “What’s it to you, chib?”
Natrac bent over to put himself closer to their level. “I’ll swap secrets with you, roo. Tell me who you’re following for Biish, and I’ll you how to make some coin off that half-elf shekot he’s with.”
“You tell me first.”
“His name is Vennet d’Lyrandar, and he was the captain of ship called Lightning on Water. His ship was carrying treasure, but he stole the treasure and let the ship sink off Zilargo. You go down to the wharves at Cliffside, find someone important from House Lyrandar, and tell them that you’ve seen him here. They’ll give you a reward.”
The pup squinted at him, obviously trying to decide how much of the story to believe. Natrac kept his expression open and as close to honest as he could manage. The part about treasure was a complete lie, of course, but rumors that Vennet was alive and in Sharn might actually get the pups a reward if they went to Lyrandar. Natrac suspected, though, that they were more likely to take the rumor of a rich stranger in Malleon’s Gate to some criminal in exchange for a cut of the potential robbery. Either way, Vennet was in for a serious inconvenience. Natrac could almost see the visions of gold conjured by the magic word “treasure” shining in the pup’s eyes, and after a moment the goblin nodded.
“Biish hired our gang to follow four chib from the upper city who came down on the Sunder Lane lift,” he said. “A kalashtar woman, a kalashtar man, a human man with blond whiskers, and a human woman with a scarf on her face.” He repeated his gesture of drawing his collar over his face.
“Lords of the Host.” Natrac straightened up sharply and darted down the street after Biish and Vennet, ignoring the proprieties of concluding the deal with pups. He could just see the hobgoblin and the half-elf ahead of him, but he hadn’t gone more than a few paces before he realized where they were headed-and where, if they were following Dandra, Singe, and Ashi, his friends were going too.
The street was Two Boot Way, where the goblin bartender he’d spoken to had seen Vennet. And at the end of Two Boot Way squatted the former arena-his arena-that had been the excuse for the beginnings of his troubles with Biish. And what had Vennet bought from Biish besides a raid on Fan Adar?
A hiding place. And surely an empty arena would make a hiding place even a dragon could feel comfortable in. Natrac slowed his pace, even though the tightness in his belly urged him to go faster. He had Vennet and Biish in sight and they weren’t turning off Two Boot Way.
“Lords of the Host,” Natrac murmured again. What were Dandra and the others doing in Malleon’s Gate? How had they found out where Dah’mir was and who was the kalashtar man that the goblin pup had described? He took a deep breath. The man didn’t matter. The others must have found some new ally. If they were down here and on Dah’mir’s trail, they probably knew what they were doing. He doubted if they knew Vennet and Biish were following them, though. They likely wouldn’t even know who Biish was.
More importantly, if they were in Malleon’s Gate, they couldn’t have any idea of what was about to happen in Overlook. Natrac swallowed.
Up ahead, Biish and Vennet stopped and talked to another goblin pup, then turned down a narrow alley. Natrac’s stride stumbled for a moment, but he kept walking. He knew that alley, and the last time he’d been in Sharn it hadn’t led anywhere but into empty space-but it could get someone very close to the private terrace at the back of the arena. However Singe and Dandra had found Dah’mir, somehow they knew about the terrace entrance.
The situation didn’t feel right at all.
He could see the gates of the arena now, the astounding mural that Bava had created for him. It was the first time he’d laid eyes on it since he’d fled the city for Zarash’ak, and he felt a momentary pleasure in seeing that it had survived the years. Biish might have closed the arena in petty revenge, but the mural still kept it alive.
It hurt him more than he expected to see three of the four gates boarded over, but at least the four pair of doors had been opened. He had his way into the arena-following the route down the alley and through the terrace that the others appeared to have taken would have consumed too much time. He had to get inside and see what was happening.
All he had to do was get past the two hobgoblins standing guard over the doors without raising an alarm. He could probably take them but not without a fight. He needed to use his brain instead of his blade. Natrac drew a breath and marched along Two Boot Way, past the alley, and straight up to the guards. He made no effort to disguise his approach, and the guards looked up from their cards to watch him with curious indifference.
He stopped just short of them. “Biish sent me,” he said. “I’m taking over for you. He needs you on the raid.”
That got their attention, but they were good hobgoblins and knew their duty. Both studied him with suspicion, reminding Natrac of the goblin pup, before one grunted, “I don’t know you. You’re not one of Biish’s.”
“I used to be,” Natrac told him. “Before your time. Biish called me up. I can watch things here, but he needs younger, stronger men for the raid.”
The other guard laughed. “He’s come to his senses. This place and Lord Storm don’t need more than an old, one-handed orc to guard them!”
He started to gather up the cards, but the first hobgoblin continued to study Natrac until his comrade gave him a hard poke. “You want to stay here when we could be raiding?”
The first hobgoblin bared his teeth at him, then turned his head and spat on the ground at Natrac’s feet. “Ban,” he said, rising. “But I’m checking this with Biish. If you’re lying …”
“You can come back and gut me,” said Natrac. “It’s a deal. I’ll be waiting for you.” He seated himself by the guards’ small fire and reached for one of the rats they had roasting.
The belligerent guard snatched them away from him. “Get your own.” Natrac shrugged and sat back. Both guards went trotting off along Two Boot Way.
As soon as they were well on their way, Natrac heaved himself back to his feet, opened the gates, and slipped into the halls of the arena. He paused for a moment to take stock of the arena’s condition. Dark. Damp. Unused. Silent when it should have been filled with the roar of a crowd. He touched his hand to the nearest wall. “It was a different time for both of us, old girl,” he whispered.
There was a stink in the air that went far beyond the mould of abandonment, however. Natrac hesitated for a moment, then turned left and headed around the outer ring corridor until he reached a plain door with a simple sign that read Management only. He’d left the door locked the last time he’d used it, but someone had bashed it in a long time ago. He squeezed through the gap, trying not to disturb the rusty hinges, and climbed quickly up the stairs beyond. He was almost at the top when a shout, echoing through the open space of the arena, rolled down from above.