Выбрать главу

Cael held his nose and nodded. In the meanwhile, the gnome had finished folding the spider’s legs into its body, creating a remarkably compact and nondescript metal box. He dropped this over his shoulder into the pack strapped to his bent back, producing a metallic clunk, which was rapidly followed by an alarming series of sproings, poings, and pings. Gimzig paused, his mouth open to say something and waited warily, peering over his shoulder, until the noises subsided.

“Crikey! I hate it when that happens,” the gnome sighed when all was quiet behind him. “There’s enough in there to turn us into cabbage salad faster than you can say rotoslicerdicer. Of course everything in there is absolutely essential for the rescue of certain elves from the dungeons of Palanthas, well, come along then, follow me, are you sure you are able to, I could probably arrange for you to be pulled by a crankrope.”

“I’ll crawl,” Cael coughed. Blood flecked his parched lips. Meanwhile, Gimzig somehow turned himself and his pack around in the narrow tunnel without setting off any of his devices. Dragging himself with his elbows, Cael struggled after his rescuer.

“The tunnel just goes a little farther before it dumps into a proper sewer,” Gimzig said. “Watch that stone there, it looks ordinary enough but it’s a trap.”

Cael twisted himself into cramped knots to avoid the stone slightly projecting down on him from overhead.

“Someone probably placed it there to prevent just this sort of escape, I could disarm it, but that would take time, and it’s just as well to leave it alone, mighty tricky those traps in the sewers and dungeons, you can always know exactly where anything important is by the number of traps you find beneath it, don’t know why it took the city so long to find the Thieves’ Guild in the first place, all they had to do was root around down here for a while and you get to know everything you ever wanted to know about this city, the sewers are a perfect reflection of the city above, clear as day if you know what to look for, I could have told them ages ago and I could tell you now where every Guild house lies.”

The gnome suddenly vanished from sight, but his voice echoed back up the tunnel, “Watch that step there, don’t fall on yore’ head.”

Cael wriggled head first down the narrow tunnel, emerging like a red-haired worm from the wall into a larger sewer passage. On the walkway below, Gimzig nervously eyed the black churning water flowing through the circle of his candle’s light. “Been raining dwarves and kender up above,” he commented, as Cael slid to the floor beside him.

“I am deeply in your debt, Gimzig,” Cael said, rising wobbily to his feet. “How you came to find me, I haven’t a clue.”

“Captain Alynthia sent me of course. It was a simple enough task to track you down, all I had to do was search most of the dungeon cells, you forget that I spent forty years mapping every passage, tunnel, hole, channel, pipe drain, grate, gate lock and quoin of the vast and magnificent Palanthian sewage system that has been perfectly operational for over two thousand years!” His voice had sunk to an awestruck whisper.

He continued, “Long ago, the Civil Engineering Guild of Mount Nevermind decided the sewers should be studied to see if the gnomes ought to make any improvements, and after they placed their request before the city senate-only to be turned down, for some unaccountable reason-they commissioned me a junior Guild member only just earning his first engineer’s stripe, with a worthy life quest-to make a detailed map of the sewers of Palanthas-but unfortunately it only took me forty-odd years to complete my report. Naturally by now I know these sewers like the hairs of my own beard: every nook, cranny, crevice, crack, and rat hole of it (the sewers not my beard) and so it was simplicity itself to find you and effect an escape. Say lad, are you sure you’re capable of mobility, you look like you’re about to faint.”

“I just feel a little light-headed,” Cael mumbled as he slumped to the ground.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Cael awoke to the taste of water sweetened with wine being poured over his parched lips. A strong hand cradled his head, lifting him to drink. He reached out to take the proffered wine skin in his own hands and sat up, gulping to try to assuage a burning thirst, but this only made the dizziness return. He collapsed back, feeling someone catch him. The wine skin was once again placed to his lips.

“You’re raging with fever,” Alynthia said as he sipped.

“I’ve seen fevers,” the gnome stated, “strike a man low in a matter of hours, it isn’t a pretty sight, but it’s a good sign that Cael lasted so long in that ghastly place…” He paused, shuddering, with a glance heavenward.

Refreshed by the water, Cael felt a modicum of strength returning. He managed to lift his head a bit and look around. He found himself lying on an access path in the sewers of Palanthas. His head was cradled in Alynthia’s lap. Gimzig stood nearby, his pack on the floor before him. The gnome nervously toyed with the gadgets contained within it, sometimes casting a wary eye over his shoulder into the darkness.

“How did we get here?” Cael asked.

“Him!” She pointed at the gnome. “He smells like a garbage heap, but I wish I had him in my circle of thieves. He has the most extraordinary gadgets! It was he who found you and led me to you.”

At this compliment, Gimzig smiled through his beard and bowed, sprinkling the floor with droplets of candle wax. Behind him, the sewer rushed and churned like a black river.

Cael nodded, feeling a great weariness stealing over him. He let his head sink into Alynthia’s gentle embrace, feeling her warmth and hearing the steady rhythm of her heart. “Do you two know each other? How did you two meet?” he mumbled wearily.

No answer to this question was forthcoming. Instead, Alynthia and Gimzig exchanged pained glances. When no one spoke, the elf’s eyes flickered open. The beautiful captain of thieves and the gnome quickly turned away, but not before he noticed their expressions of sorrow.

“What’s wrong?” he demanded, trying to sit up again. The effort cost him, and he collapsed back into Alynthia’s arms.

“We have to get you someplace safe,” she said quickly.

“I’ve arranged a room, and there is a healer waiting. But we mustn’t delay. Gimzig,” she said, turning to the gnome, “lead us out of here.”

“Always giving orders,” Cael mumbled.

“Be quiet,” she said. “Save your strength. I can’t carry you. You are going to have to help.” However harsh her words, her actions were gentle. She hooked one arm around his waist and helped him to rise. He leaned heavily upon her shoulder, his neck so weak that he could hardly lift his head.

“Now I could use a staff,” he sighed. “It’s gone, lost.”

“Follow me!” Gimzig shouted as he led the way, his candle sending shadows leaping along the walls of the sewer. “It isn’t really that far, and you needn’t climb a ladder to the streets, Cael, the way I am taking is only a stair of two flights, I think you can make it with our assistance much easier than if we had to haul you up a ladder. Of course I have a remarkable pulley system, and there is always the self-extending ladder, but I doubt you have the strength to hold on to a ladder, so-”

The gnome froze, one foot lifted comically in mid-stride. His head slowly rotated until his long bulbous nose pointed at the swirling black waters racing by them.

“What is it?” Alynthia whispered.

“Shhhhhhh! Sewer monster. Big one. Right out there, watching us,” the gnome whispered.

“Where? I don’t see-”

“Get Cael back against the wall, and put something sharp between yourself and the water,” Gimzig ordered as he slowly inched the straps of his pack from his shoulders. He set it on the ground before him and removed a pair of curious weapons, if weapons they were. Cael recognized one of them as Gimzig’s mechanical spider. It was in its contracted position, all its legs stowed neatly around its body, forming a compact silver box. The other object was a short steel rod or pole, about as long as the gnome’s forearm. Its use was a mystery, for it was too short to be a staff. A cudgel, perhaps? There was little time to speculate.