The young bard sighed as he dawdled down the corridor. His mind was racing, and his mind usually didn’t like to race. If anything, it preferred to take a leisurely stroll to its destination. Not much chance of that now, however, as it needed to go a mile a minute trying to formulate plans.

Suddenly, there were things he needed to do, and an impromptu getaway was out of the question. Holsley needed to hire a ship, retrieve an enchanted lute, con a seasoned gambler, and acquire a magical ring that he then needed to sneak back into the dungeon. Oh! Also, he needed to get all this done before his friend was hanged.

Some pressure.

Perhaps, he thought, it would be better for his mental health if he took the list one step at a time.

Hiring a ship would be first, then as it was the easiest. That meant he needed to go to Tressa’s famed Hidden Docks and find the Square-Jawed Dragon. While he was there, he recognised that he could also hire a rowboat so he could grab the lute he needed as well. That was settled then. The moment he stepped foot out of this dungeon, he’d rush to the docks and get it over with.

He looked up at the backs of the tubheads more than a few strides ahead of him. It was unsurprising they were so far away, seeing as he’d been kicking his heels since he’d left Roland behind. They’d managed to reach the second floor at least, and here he was able to somewhat see in the dim light. It was a good thing, too, as it was harder to lose sight of the guards and end up with a whole other problem.

They didn’t speak to him, but Holsley kept within earshot, nevertheless.

URK! The young bard was suddenly hoisted back by the collar and pulled mercilessly towards a door that he’d only noticed out of the corner of his eye. On instinct, he tried to call out, but a gloved hand slapped his mouth shut. He mumbled, straining, but the unknown assailant was the stronger of them.

‘Shut up,’ a voice whispered in his ear. A feminine voice. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’

‘What’s happening?’ Holsley whispered back once his mouth was free. ‘Who are you?’

The hand gently closed the door ajar and swung Holsley around to her. It was a tubhead, or at least someone that looked like a tubhead. She was a little taller than him with a stern set of thin lips, but he was most caught out by the likes of her powerfully pervading purple eyes, which shone out beneath the overhanging mask on her kettle hat.

‘Be quiet.’ She held a finger to her lips. ‘Wait and watch.’

Holsley did as he was told.

Through the slight gap in the door, he could see the two tubheads that had been escorting him. They had come to a stop up ahead. For a moment, the young bard thought they might be looking for him, but then another figure emerged, and his breath caught in his throat. It was Kythos, and the tiefling bore down on the two like an approaching disaster.

Words were exchanged, though Holsley couldn’t hear them. With his impressive common sense, he presumed that the three were talking about him. If true, then Kythos was a little more than unhappy that Holsley had suddenly gone missing. Whoever this stranger was, she had good timing. A second later, the young bard would be face to face with his furrowed brows.

Holsley swung back to the stranger but found only empty air waiting behind him. She was gone, and as to where Holsley couldn’t fathom because this was a broom cupboard with barely enough room to move and only one exit.

Who was she? The stranger had been dressed like a guard, but there was no way a guard would’ve pulled him out of danger like this. Then why? And how did she know about Kythos’ sudden appearance?

It didn’t matter, he decided and returned his attention to the gap in the door.

Holsley couldn’t hear the guards as their voices were tame and reasonable, but as for Kythos, his came out in a dull roar that everyone would still be able to hear even if they had covered their ears.

‘I don’t get where he’s gone!’ he bellowed. ‘I want him found. Now! He can’t have left this dungeon.’

Kythos was huffing and puffing, getting worked up, while the two tubheads backed away. His tiefling skin was a light blue, but Holsley swore his face was growing red.

‘Don’t think I’m done with you two, either.’ He pointed at each of them in turn. ‘I can’t believe that little grubber slipped under my nose.’ Kythos viciously kicked a wall, which put up a good fight. ‘Curse it. Bloody curse it.’

The tubheads muttered something about doubling back, or at least Holsley thought they had. They didn’t have the astounding timbre of Kythos’s natural voice. It seemed to him then that he was in a tricky situation. If the guards here were set to searching for him, there was a good chance he might not see the outside again, let alone the docks and the lute.

‘There’s something else.’ Kythos leaned in but kept his voice at a hearable level. Holsley bent his ear closer to the gap. ‘I doubt it, but when the boy is found, check to see if they’re carrying a shattered ruby upon their person.’

One of the tubheads said something.

‘Don’t ask why, idiot!’ Kythos snapped. ‘Just confiscate it, and don’t allow anyone else to see or take it. Understand? My mother will be very disappointed if it isn’t found, and I’m looking for a couple of idiots to blame its theft on.’

The tubheads nodded their understanding, but Holsley was left confused. Theft? Shattered ruby? Why would Kythos think he had such an item?

‘Right, get on with it!’ Kythos pushed past them and marched quickly by his door without stopping. ‘I need to see Mr. Darrow about an appointment with my mother. She won’t be kept waiting.’

Holsley held his breath as the tubheads rushed past his door. He was thankful that neither of them had the idea to check it first. They were all gone a minute later, leaving Holsley alone to ponder his next move. He had to get out of the dungeon, he knew, and he had to get out fast.

He investigated the room.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

It was a broom cupboard, just about big enough to house two people and a fine selection of mops. Shelves had been erected up and down the walls, and as his eyes adjusted better to the absence of light, he found something that didn’t belong. A few pieces of armour neatly folded atop some padded leather, an undershirt, and mud-coloured trousers.

The stranger had left him a guard’s uniform.

‘Well, that should help,’ he said, holding up the undershirt.

He didn’t dwell on why she had done this, only on getting the uniform on and getting out as quickly as was humanly possible.

***

There was no telling where the uniform had come from, but he knew for sure it had come from someone taller than him. It was slightly baggy in places, and he felt the need to pull his new trousers back up every second step he took. Not to mention the helmet, which hung too low on his eyes and occasionally obscured his vision.

He felt like a little boy playing dress-up.

Every now and then, he’d nod to a passing guard, hoping that his below-average height didn’t draw any suspicion. Luckily enough, that wasn’t a problem in this dimly lit dungeon. He encountered very little, which is to say no trouble, until he reached the iron bars barring the stairs up to the first level.

His heart skipped a beat when a sudden hand grabbed him by the shoulder as he reached for the gate. He expected to find it attached to Kythos, but when he slowly rotated around, he saw an older guard giving him the eye.

‘You’re needed in laundry,’ the old brute said with a gruff voice. ‘It’s backed up.’

‘Oh.’ Holsley pulled his trousers up over his hips. ‘Uh, okay.’

Mechanically, he stepped away from the iron bars and reluctantly approached the dungeon. The incident had been so abrupt he hadn’t the wits to fabricate a lie. Instead, he reserved himself to his fate.

Holsley trudged back as the old guard watched. He remembered distinctly walking by a cart full of washing on this level. Old uniforms, mostly, with the odd bed cover. That’s where laundry would be, he guessed. He’d go there just long enough to douse any suspicion and then return when the coast was clear. He retraced his footsteps and followed the scent of soapy suds and fragrant linens.

Some of the guards were scrubbing the stubborn stains off with a washboard. Others neatly folded the dry clothes hanging on a line near the fire. Holsley came in, saw an empty bucket, and got to work at the dirty pile next to it. Five minutes, then he was gone, he told himself.

Holsley didn’t talk, and no one asked any questions. Perfect. Instead, they spoke to one another and allowed him to listen. Curiously enough, their conversation quickly drifted towards Roland, and several rumours propped up about him. That wasn’t really a surprise. People were always abuzz with gossip about the next hanging — Holsley could remember that much from his youth.

Still, it provided an opportunity to discover more.

‘You know, they say they found ‘im in a rowboat just out of the docks.’ A heavyset woman said from her corner, scrubbing the stubborn stains from a shirt in a washboard. ‘He had nothing to ‘is name ‘cept for a sword and a ruby in a dozen pieces that must be worth a small fortune.’

Was that the ruby Kythos was on about?

‘I heard he beheaded the mayor of Ashridge, he did.’ The younger guard on folding duty was a little shy on teeth but made up for it aplenty in facial boils. ‘Cut his head clean off without a single remorse. They say he came back later to pull out his lord’s gold fillings.’

Holsley doubted that — well, not the fillings part.

‘That’ll happen when you join Berry Kellam’s crew,’ barked another of the guards — a fiercely tanned and muscular woman placing the recently folded clothes onto the awaiting shelves. ‘A friend of my mother’s saw ‘er ship, that Gleeful Goat, coming into port once. They were away before it even docked. Most people were. There aren’t those stupid enough to stand up to the likes of the Bloody Darling ‘erself.’

Holsley gulped. He had heard of the Bloody Darling.

‘Gone now, though,’ sniffed the pimply washboarder. ‘She ain’t been seen for nigh on three months, she ain’t. I heard the ship was sunk by another group of pirates. Doomed to sail on the ocean floor now.’

‘Would explain how that Darrow ended up on a rowboat.’ The woman stacking clothes nodded knowingly. ‘And how he got his hands on that ruby and sword.’

Holsley looked up briefly to the last guard in the room. The stranger was older, that was for sure. Some time ago, he’d fared farewell to his hairline. He was smoking a pipe while rocking back and forth on a chair. He came to a considered stop and leaned forward. ‘I’m not so sure,’ he said knowingly. ‘From what I’ve been privy to, old Kythos has been set to the task of finding the truth of the matter. I’ve heard he’s been torturing that Darrow boy for a week, and the lad hasn’t given up one bit of knowledge.’

‘Where’s you ‘ear that?’

‘I got me sources.’ He shrugged. ‘Seems be that Darrow was sentenced a bit too ‘astily, I reckon. Lady Ravenpeak’s after something from ‘im. Something she didn’t know he ‘ad until she’d already sentenced ‘im. Too late to take it back now, it is. They can’t appear weak and indecisive these days in Tressa. Be riots shortly after.’

Holsley leaned in so hard that he slipped on the rim of his bucket. Suddenly, his forearm was covered in a healthy layer of soapy suds. Every eye came upon him, and he gave them a weak smile. ‘Uh, I better go dry off.’

It was as good an excuse as any to leave.

Holsley wandered the hallways back the way he came, still doing his best to keep a low profile. All the while, his mind muttered away. Of course, he had heard of Berry Kellam before. There was nothing that spread quite so far and fast as a good pirate story. She was a villain, he’d heard. A cruel queen who led a gang of pirates known as the Bloody Darlings. Though it couldn’t be true that Roland was part of her crew — only women were allowed to join, he’d heard.

Then again, maybe it was true. If so, how had a street thief from a city four hundred feet above the water ended up sharing the same space as an infamous sea-faring pirate? It didn’t make any sense.

He squashed down the urge to rush back to Roland and get answers to these questions. Holsley could ask him when the rogue was free, which meant getting him free, which meant getting the ring, which meant getting the lute, which meant getting a rowboat and hiring a ship.

There was a lot of getting involved now.

When he thought that a sufficient amount of time had passed, Holsley slipped back towards the dungeon’s exit. He sighed a breath of relief when he saw that the gruff guard was nowhere to be found.

With an air of confidence, complimented by the occasional high-pitched word, he convinced the doorminder to open up and let him out. Honestly, he thought that aged skeleton would let anyone out if they asked nicely enough.

He doesn’t know, Holsley realised shortly after. Kythos hadn’t informed the other guards about him, only those two tubheads, and it wasn’t hard to see why. The ruby. For some reason, Kythos thought Holsley might have the ruby, which meant, Holsley guessed, that the old tiefling was concerned whoever found him first would simply keep it.

The young bard smiled.

Getting out of the dungeons wasn’t much trouble after that. Soon, he was bathing in the early afternoon daylight and looking for a way to ditch his oversized uniform at the first opportunity. Of course, it was tempting to keep it, but he didn’t have any room for it on his person — not with the lute in his bag, and it didn’t fit him well anyway.

Holsley kicked the offending uniform into a gutter when nobody was looking, clogging it instantly. He was just about to leave when he noticed a familiar figure down the other end of the alley, adjacent to the courtyard — a tiefling with red skin.

For a second, he couldn’t place her, then he remembered her giving him a rude gesture from the front of her cart. It had been her who had almost run him over at the entrance. She was there now with that same cart delivering barrels of booze around the back of the stone keep.

Holsley couldn’t resist the chance to get even. The young bard approached the cart, careful to keep hidden. It was an old piece of wood barely running on four wheels. The important part, though, was that it was filthy. He supposed that happened when you were flapping your wheels about the city.

With a little giggle, he took out a finger and promptly wrote a message across the back of her cart in the mud. “I’m a horse’s ass.” Then, he was away before she noticed him.

Was it childish? Yes. Would it annoy her? He sure hoped so. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t be around to see it. Holsley was away into the crowds only seconds after a group of tubheads stepped out of Tubhead Tower.