Riular, who had made no comment on the plans up to this point, was now the most vocal and stubborn of all of them. He insisted that freeing Riulessa had to be their first priority. As a guardian of the Sceptre, he insisted, she would be invaluable. Exactly how, he didn’t explain, but Kiri tended to believe him. Shendra jumped onto his rescue-first argument; if anyone was to be rescued she was going to make sure Mala was too. The only one who was still against going in to rescue Riulessa and Mala first, before attacking Lord Useph, was Neal.
“Surprise will be worth more than anything else against the Thief Lord,” he said. “If we’re poking around the palace rescuing people there’s a good chance we’ll lose that.”
“We will have to be cautious to pull this off,” Del said. “It is a risk. Weta and I will take the lead.”
“You think you can do it?” Neall asked. “There will be guards on the Eldan, most likely. And we know there are several on Lady Mala’s door.”
“Not a problem,” Weta said. “All will go smoothly if you do exactly as we say. You follow precisely or you will give us away.” She looked down her nose at all of them. Kiri wished she didn’t have to be standing so close to the spy, but she was already standing as near to the earth wall as she could without getting mud all over her.
“If you are confident,” Neal said doubtfully. “They might be useful, as Shendra and the Eldan say. Let’s do it. But there are enough of us to split up and rescue them both at once. There’s no point in taking longer than completely necessary. It seems to me that the faster we do this, the less likely we are to be caught or detected. We can retain the element of surprise.”
“I will go to Riulessa,” Riular said.
“And I assume the officer of the Order will rescue her Lady,” Neal said. “What about the Firebrand and Garon?”
“We’re sticking together this time,” Garon said. “Besides that, I don’t care which way we go.”
“Well…” Kiri said. “Don’t you think one of us should go with Riular?”
“We both can,” Garon said.
“Um, I was thinking of speaking to Mala,” Kiri said. She thought that Del and Weta might not know Useph’s wife was Garon’s sister, but she had given away already that she knew her.
“So, you want me to go with Riular?” Garon asked.
“Don’t worry, Garon,” Neal said. “You won’t be lonely. I’ll come along. I don’t think Lady Mala likes me.”
“She does not,” Shendra said. “But she is practical. She will not endanger a relationship with an ally.”
“I will get the Eldan,” Weta said. “But you will have to show the way, Shendra. I do not know the Order’s dungeons. Del will take them to the Lady.”
“I must rescue my Lady,” Shendra said. “I will give you directions. I can draw a map.”
Weta shook her head. “I won’t use a map in the middle of a raid. That is how you get killed.” She paused a moment, eyes flicking up and to the left as she mulled it over. “Or captured. Worse for the rest.”
“Shendra,” Kiri cut into their conversation by stepping forward, even though standing between them meant she was nearly nose-to-nose with Shendra. Weta was breathing uncomfortably down her neck. “I will see to it that Lady Mala is freed. You have my word.”
Shendra studied her face, then gave one sharp nod.
“Then that’s it. Settled!” Neal said. “I’m getting out of this pit. Now.”
~
Sweat ran in a line down the center of Garon’s back; his hair was plastered to his forehead with it. Every now and then he had to rub his eyes against his shoulders to clear the drops of sweat out of them. His hands were too dirty, and they were busy anyway. He was crawling--on toes and fingertips because he was reluctant to place his knees or whole hand on the slimy floor--through a hot, close tunnel cut through the bedrock. Weta said it was a drain for storm water, which explained the muck at the bottom.
“Don’t worry, it won’t rain today.”
Garon was following right behind Weta, and he knew Shendra and Riular were behind him, but he never heard them. Weta moved as soundlessly as them, so the only sounds in the tunnel were from Garon. The small slaps of his fingers in the muck, the squelch of his shoes pulling out of it, were embarrassingly loud compared to their silent creeping. He hoped no one was regretting bringing him along. He didn’t see Kiri’s point in sending him with this group. It wasn’t as though he could usefully keep an eye on them. If there was some kind of betrayal planned, he doubted he could stop it. But, he was determined to try, anyway, to help as long as they stuck with the plan. If they didn’t, well, he’d figure it out as he went along. He thought of the Traveling stone in his pocket, but that wouldn’t be any use unless he knew a location to teleport to. Unlike everyone else in their raiding party, he’d never been to the Desert Palace before.
The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.
After what seemed like forever, with his joints beginning to ache from moving in that awkward, bent-over posture, the tunnel began to slope upward. Weta extinguished her lantern, but it did not leave them in complete darkness. Ahead and above, there was another source of light. It was probably fire, Garon judged by its varying intensity.
Weta twisted to look directly at Garon and hissed. “Quiet now! We’re almost there.” Backlit as she was, Garon couldn’t make out her expression, but her tone was exasperated. He tried to move more smoothly through the muck as he followed her up the sloping tunnel. It did seem to make him a little quieter. He hoped it was enough that whoever might be up ahead would not be alerted to their coming.
The ceiling stopped sloping with the tunnel, so that the small space closed in still tighter as they moved toward the light. Finally Weta scooted forward in a crouch into a square of patterned light and shadow, her hair nearly brushing the grate overhead that had made it. Garon watched as she twisted her head to the side so she could look up at the grate. It wasn’t very big; he wondered how he might fit through there. She brought her fingers to the edge of the grate. She was holding something small and metal. Garon might not have noticed it if it had not caught a glint of the shifting light. Whatever it was, she worked it at the edge of the grate until there was a small click of something sliding into place-or out. With a flick of her fingers, Weta made the metal tool disappear into her sleeve. She ducked her head down and turned so that her back and shoulders were against the grate. Her hands moved to either side, gripping the slats of the grate. She rose a little, pushing up and back. The grate moved, more quietly than Garon would have thought possible, with only a faint scratching sound, and Weta let it settle off her back when it still half-covered the opening. She straightened, and slithered up and out.
Garon scrunched down, trying to imitate her motion to escape through the grate. He flinched at the wetness of the muck on his knees, but he couldn’t get in there and stay clean at the same time. It took him longer than Shendra, and he got a lot messier. He ended up having to sit in the mud to get into position, but eventually he managed to wriggle through the small opening Shendra had left.
Garon brushed off his hands on his already-ruined trousers and looked around. The grate was against a wall at the end of a rough-stone corridor. The part of the corridor where the grate sat was about two feet wide, and a generous step lower down than the rest of the corridor which it ran along. It looked too wide to be a gutter, but that appeared to be its purpose. The light was from a fire, as Garon had assumed, two of them actually, one nearby and one some way down where the corridor intersected another, both blazing away in huge braziers. Set along the wall between them were several dark openings, barred with heavy iron. He couldn’t see at this angle, but it seemed safe to assume they were cells.
Weta replaced the grate once Shendra and Riular were both through. She hopped up onto the main part of the corridor, out of the gutter. She kept her eyes on the corridor ahead of them as she spoke in clipped, quiet sentences. “Shendra. Where now?”
The rest of them hopped up after her, not nearly as smoothly, especially on Garon’s part. The spy was like a cat. Riular might move as smoothly as her, but he couldn’t climb and jump like her.
Shendra slipped past Weta, who was waiting with crossed arms, and led the group along the corridor. It was the only way to go anyway, but Garon guessed Weta wanted Shendra to take the lead early. As he followed at the end of the group Garon peered between the bars into the cells. The flickering light from the braziers didn’t reach all the way into the corners, but as far as he could see they were empty. There was no sound or movement from within. The floors looked swept--not clean, but swept. There were streaks of dirt or grime leading through the bars, like whatever mess had been in there had been shoved out with a wide broom, toward the gutter. Weta had called it a storm drain, but at this point Garon suspected it served another purpose. It wasn’t surprising. Unlike in Westfall Valley, where latrines and water sources were always well-separated, many people in the rest of the kingdom seemed to view any and all water as a possible toilet. For the most part, Garon had gotten used to it. But he wished he could wash the muck off his hands now. Brushing them off on his pants no longer seemed sufficient.
Shendra led them down one of the side corridors. It looked just like the one they had just left.
Only the number and placement of the cells and braziers and openings to other passages varied as Shendra led them to another corridor, and another. Garon could see why Weta had insisted on a guide. Shendra seemed confident enough in her path, but Garon wasn’t sure that he could get back to where they had come in without her guidance. Some of the cells they passed now were occupied, but none of the occupants said anything, or even looked at them directly. They kept their heads down and eyes averted. Garon guessed they had learned not to attract any attention from the guards. They were all so dirty, dressed in tattered rags that held only hints of the colors they once were under a thick layer of grime, and so hunched into the corners of their cells that Garon could not tell much about them. He had no idea whether they were male or female, or if they had the dark skin of desert dwellers or pale like his own, or even paler, like the Eldan female they were looking for.
He saw her as soon as they turned the corner. She was not cowering back in her cell. She stood, chin lifted in defiance, right against the bars. Her slim hands passed through and clasped together in front of the metal. But no sooner had he spotted her than Riular pulled him back--which surprised him completely. Had the Eldan ever touched him at all before? The others fell back to crowd in with Garon and Riular. Shendra stopped Garon’s question with a finger pressed against his lips. Now that they had stopped moving, Garon could hear why. There were footsteps, heavy, booted feet. Bare feet like those of the people in the cells couldn’t make those sounds. Someone was coming. He tensed when Shendra leaned forward to look around the corner. If she was spotted this whole plan might come apart. Unless of course she could convince whoever was there that she was here legitimately. What had happened with the Order while she was gone? If Useph thought they were on Mala’s side, were they being allowed to go about their business? Or were they captives? It seemed like a really bad time to ask Shendra, so Garon bit his tongue and listened hard. The whole group was clustered at the corner that turned to the passage with Riulessa’s cell. Only Shendra was confident enough to peer around the edge.