Alynthia swung into the room and landed with a thump beside them. “Cael, what are you… oh, I see!” she said as she placed one fist on her hip.
Claret spun around and glared at the female intruder. “Cael, who is this person?” she asked suspiciously.
“Alynthia Krath-Mal, meet Claret. Claret, Alynthia,” Cael hurriedly introduced.
“Of all the houses and all the people in Palanthas, you drop into the room of someone you know, and a girl at that! If I didn’t know better, I’d say you planned this,” Alynthia accused.
“It’s destiny!” Claret answered, defending the elf. “I take it you’re in trouble, else you’d not have intruded so boldly upon my sleep.”
“Gods,” Cael muttered “Another woman who speaks like a bad romance.”
“Do not fear. I can help you,” Claret continued without hearing him. She gazed up at the elf with her big, soulful gray eyes.
Alynthia shot Cael a glance.
He shrugged. “Well, she did help me before,” he said.
“There is a little known door out of this building. My father doesn’t even know about it,” Claret said. “It’s secret! I discovered it myself. It leads to a staircase that descends to a tunnel that crosses under the city wall and comes up into a building on Smith’s Alley. The secret door is in the cellar. Come on, I’ll show you the way.” She took Cael in one hand, her candle in the other, and pulled him from the room.
“My parents are asleep,” she whispered as she led them down a narrow hall. “A dragon couldn’t wake my father, but we should be careful not to disturb mother. Say!” She stopped and gazed suspiciously at the elf. “What happened to your limp?”
“I was in disguise,” Cael whispered conspiratorially.
Claret smiled knowingly. “Oh! How clever!” She resumed her tiptoe escort. Cael looked over his shoulder at Alynthia, a smug smile on his face.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she hissed.
“Have you any other suggestion?”
“Shhhhhh!” Claret scolded. She paused at an opening where a stair descended into darkness. “I thought you two were supposed to be stealthy thieves.”
“My apologies,” Cael whispered.
The stair led down two flights to a low, damp cellar. The floor was of hard-packed earth. A few barrels and numerous rotting crates lined one wall. The remainder of the room was occupied by heaps of old furniture covered with moldy sheets or moth-eaten blankets.
Claret paused near the bottom of the stair. Above her, there was a heavy beam that supported the floor of the room above. Nailed to this beam was a rusty horseshoe. Claret reached up and gave it a turn. One of the flagstones at the base of the stairs popped up. Cael helped her slide it aside, revealing a narrow stair cut into the earth. A few feet down, the clay turned to hard stone.
Claret started down the stairs, only to be stopped by the elf’s hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him, her eyes steady.
“You’ve done enough,” Cael said softly. “You should go back to bed.”
“But I want to go. It’s exciting,” the girl answered. “I want to go with you, Cael.”
“The people chasing us want to kill us,” Alynthia scolded. “This isn’t a game.”
“Claret understands that,” Cael said to Alynthia before the glowering girl could make her reply. “She is braver than her age and experience allow. Were she free to follow us, I would gladly have her in my company. But she has a family, a mother and father who would miss her, and brothers and sisters, too, I’ll warrant. She has to take care of them, if danger comes.”
Claret stared sulkily down into the dark stairwell. “I suppose,” she finally agreed. “There wouldn’t be anyone to do their laundry.”
“Well, let’s be going then,” Alynthia snapped impatiently.
“I thank you, dearest Claret, for your aid,” Cael said to the girl.
“You are most welcome, kind sir,” Claret responded. With a deep curtsey, she stepped aside to let them pass. Alynthia pushed past Cael and descended into the gloom.
“Wait! If I’m not going, I must tell you something,” Claret said as she gave Cael her candle. “Go down these stairs, then along the passage. Be careful, as sometimes there are rats. Then, up the stairs at the other end. They let into a cellar like this one, only it is empty. In the cellar are two stairs, one of wood and one of stone. Follow the stone stairs to a door. It opens into Smith’s Alley.”
“I thank you again. Now, get you back to bed, dear girl, before your parents discover your absence,” Cael laughed as he started down the stairs. Claret touched his arm.
“If you escape with your life, you will return?” she softly asked.
“Most assuredly,” the elf solemnly promised.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Cael and Alynthia hurried along the low passage. It ended abruptly at a steep stair. Alynthia scaled it quickly, then paused at the top to listen. Satisfied that no one was in the room above, she quietly opened a small wooden trapdoor and climbed into an empty cellar, finding things much as Claret had described them. Cael clambered up behind her, closed the trapdoor, and eyed the beautiful captain of thieves as if to say, Well, we made it!
“Unless I am much mistaken, they will have widened their search to include the whole city,” she said, deflating his pride for a moment. “I am safe enough now because most people know me as the wife of Oros uth Jakar, a leading citizen of the city. But you, my friend, are in mortal danger. Mistress Jenna recognized you, as did our friend Arach Jannon. They’ll not let you escape this city, if they can help it.” She looked him over, then shook her head. “Do you thinks you can make it to the waterfront without being captured?”
Cael nodded. Obviously she expected him to obey her unhesitatingly, and, surprising himself, he realized that was exactly what he would do. He felt proud to have earned some measure of her trust, yet also uncomfortable with the idea. He wished she would finish her speech and let him be on his way.
“My husband,” she said, pausing on the last word for emphasis, “has a ship moored at Blue Crab Pier. She’s called the Dark Horizon. He’ll hide you below decks until we can decide what to do with you.”
“Very well, Captain,” Cael said.
Alynthia smiled, her dark eyes twinkling by the light of his candle. “That’s what I like to hear!” she barked happily as she gripped his arm. “Obedience! It suits you well, freelance.” Her hand lingered there for a moment as the smile faded from her eyes. She quickly turned away.
They mounted the stone stair and paused at the door at its top. Outside, they heard the sounds of revelry. Smith’s Alley was perhaps the seediest corner of the city of Palanthas. Few folk would want to be caught dead here after dark, even a Captain of the Thieves’ Guild, for the people who inhabited this narrow, dank street were as clannish as dwarves and just as suspicious of outsiders. They protected their own and sometimes preyed on those foolish enough to venture into their domain. The people here had little to fear, even from the martial lords of the city. A contingent of Knights sent into Smith’s Alley was likely to suffer a barrage of rotting vegetables if they were lucky, stones if they tried to assert their authority too strictly. When things became too hot even for the denizens of Smith’s Alley, they were like rats, vanishing into a thousand holes.
“I’ll go first,” Alynthia whispered. “I’ll head south, towards Temple Row. You head north to the dock. Don’t get caught!” she finished sternly. “If you’re captured… better you die fighting. They’ll torture you for what you know.”
“I’ll tell them that I am a freelance,” Cael boldly asserted, then finished with a shrug. “It won’t be a lie either.”
“Good luck to you, Cael Ironstaff,” Alynthia said as she took his hand and pressed it. “I’ll try to visit you tomorrow. Don’t let Oros bore you with his stories.”