“You’re planning to use him,” she said with sudden realization.
Oros started, as though he’d just heard his innermost thoughts echoed aloud. “What do you mean?” he asked.
“You are planning to use him. You haven’t indoctrinated him into the Guild, not in the ordinary way. You even ordered me to not waste too much time showing him our standard methods or teaching him our usual passwords. There can be only one reason for that,” she surmised.
“And that is?” Oros asked. His momentary loss of composure had returned. He flashed an appreciative smile at the keenness of his companion’s deductions.
“So that when he is captured or betrayed, he will not be able to reveal anything about us. What is it you are really going to send him to steal?” she probed. “It isn’t the Potion of Shonlay, is it?”
“That is but a test,” Oros admitted. “If this rehearsal succeeds, I will take him into my personal circle for in-depth training. If the mission fails but he survives, I will do the same, saying that he needs my special tutelage to acclimate him to the ways of the Guild. Either way, I shall have him as my student. At first, he will hate me, and then he will slowly grow to admire me. Finally, he will love me as his shalifi. When he is properly prepared, I shall plant the seed of something.”
“You’re planning to send him out alone,” Alynthia guessed with undisguised awe. “If he succeeds, he brings the prize back to you. If he fails, he cannot harm the Guild because he knows nothing of its true nature.”
Oros nodded appreciatively.
“What is it you covet?” the dark-eyed captain of thieves asked, her voice low.
“The Founderstone itself,” Oros whispered.
The sorcerer ceased his arcane mutterings with a gasp. His eyes rolled forward to stare in wonder at the two Guild captains. Realizing that his spell had been broken, he hurriedly resumed his incantation.
It was too late. The darkness had begun to fade from the water in the bowl. Even as it faded, a line of torches hove into view. The image wavered. Oros leaned forward and pointed. “What is that?” he asked anxiously.
“Torches. Knights of Neraka!” Alynthia shouted. She turned on the sorcerer, shaking a fist at his nose. “Get it back. Get the image hack!”
“I’m trying!” the poor mage squeaked.
“What are Knights of Neraka doing in the test area?” Oros asked. “Is this part of your design?”
“No, I swear it!” she answered. She stood up resolutely. “I’m going down there!” The image faded completely from the bowl. The sorcerer toppled, exhausted, from his stool.
With an exclamation of disgust, Alynthia bolted from the room.
Chapter Fifteen
Watch your step,” Cael whispered, pointing to a broken step. His gesture was useless, as the darkness of the sewers was complete. However, his elven sight allowed him to see the warm outlines of his companions’ bodies, as well as the contours of the sewer tunnel they traversed. The water flowing below them was like a black river, so dark and cool that not even he could penetrate it. Still, something occasionally passed through this river of darkness, something warm and faintly outlined beneath the surface of the water, something large as a submerged canoe, with a serpentine tail that powered it through the water with silent ease. It followed them sometimes, other times swimming alongside them easily, only to vanish into the depths.
At first, Cael had pointed out their watery shadow, but as the darkness prevented his companions from seeing anything, his warnings were useless. Hoag had instructed him (as if he actually needed instruction!) to let them know if the thing loomed a threat, but otherwise to ignore it. How he was supposed to judge the level of danger was never adequately explained.
Also never explained was how other circles of thieves made their way through the sewers to the test area without the benefit of someone with night vision to lead them. His Circle followed Cael blindly, in every sense of the word. Each thief depended on him to point out the slightest danger on their most dangerous road. A misstep anywhere along the way meant a dunk in the cold, fetid water. The least deviation from their path might mean an accidental trip, a fatal stumble.
Even with his elven sight, Cael could no more read their map in the dark than the others. Instead, they relied upon Mancred’s memory to direct them to the correct turnings and passages. As they made their slow, careful way through the sewers, Mancred had Cael count out the number of left- or right-hand tunnels they passed. So, it was by the count of passages and turnings that they made progress-slow, torturous progress.
“Why do we travel without light?” the elf whispered to Mancred as he helped the old thief over the broken step.
“Light shining up through the sewer grates would be noticed and investigated. We only use light where it cannot be seen from the streets,” he answered.
“Who is that?” Cael asked. A distant turning of the sewer was now visible to them because of a flickering yellow light that had appeared ahead, illuminating the far wall. Human shadows danced along the walls ahead of the light, evidencing that several people bearing torches were headed toward the thieves.
In a hoarse whisper Hoag called for a halt, even though everyone was already crouched against the wall.
“Who are they?” Varia asked. “They’re not thieves.”
“Maybe they are. Maybe this is part of the test,” Pitch said.
“We’re not at the vaults yet,” Rull protested. Even in a whisper, his deep voice seemed to boom against the walls of the sewer. The thieves winced at the noise. Rull shrugged in silent apology.
A jangle of armor, followed by a splash and a muttered curse, echoed through the sewer.
“They’re Knights of Takhisis,” Mancred said.
“Neraka,” Hoag amended.
“Whatever.”
The thieves sat tensely for a few moments, each with the same thought. Was this part of the test, or were these real Knights of Takhisis? Either way, they dared not attack. If they were thieves in disguise, playing a part in the test, okay. If these were real Knights, they would have to be bypassed. The thieves didn’t dare match swords, daggers, and staffs against a band of well-armed, Well-armored, well-trained Knights. Whatever they decided to do, they had better do it soon. The Knights were growing closer, the sounds of their awkward attempts at stealth growing louder with each passing heartbeat.
“I say we stay here,” Cael said, the first to break the silence. “There are three side passages between us and them. They might turn aside at any one of them. They’ll not see us here. Their torches blind them to anything outside their own light.” “Not anymore!” Mancred hissed. “Look!”
The Knights’ approaching torches brightly illuminated the distant turning. From around the bend came a nightmare, bending so low that its reptilian snout almost touched the ground.
“Draconian!” Mancred affirmed, though each thief knew the creature by reputation, if not by sight. Created many years ago, before the War of the Lance, by black-robed mages and clerics of Takhisis from the eggs of the Good dragons, the draconians were the epitome of evil. They were smaller than dragons, and most were no taller than a human man. They walked upright on two legs, though there the resemblance to humans ended. They had reptilian faces and long claws for hands and feet. A pair of batlike wings sprouted from the backs of all draconians except for the kind known as auraks. They also had long, snaking, spine-crested tails.
The draconian now advancing down the sewer was of the breed known as kapaks. These draconians had long served the armies of Takhisis as assassins and spies. This one must be a scout for the party of Knights. It was slinking some thirty yards ahead of the group, far enough ahead to not be affected by their torches, far enough to espy the thieves huddled against the sewer wall if ever it bothered to lift its head and look. Instead the creature seemed intent upon some scent trail that it was following, though how it smelled anything other than garbage in this place was beyond anyone’s guess.