Treachery's wake

17

If Malthooz had turned to look, he would have seen the rogue struggling to contain her emotions. Had she understood him correctly? If it had been Krusk, she would have expected the warning as a matter of course. Even though Malthooz shared the barbarian's skepticism, he'd always been one for measured judgement. Certainly he tended to err on the side of timidity as far as danger went, but this was a serious charge. Lidda wasn't eager to lose what remained of her grasp on the guild, but was as that all it was? Could she really have been so foolish? It didn't matter now if it was. Her chances of working for the thieves guild again were getting slimmer by the minute, at least in Newcoast.

She tried to reason her way through it. What interest would Flint have in getting them out of the way? Wotherwill's murder could be blamed on them whether they were alive or dead, present or absent. So why have them killed?

If Kargle read the concern on her face, he didn't show it.

"The guards will be in a room to the right not far past this door," he said, looking back at Malthooz as they approached a second set of doors. "The rogue and I will knock them out and you can cover the door to make sure no one else comes in or leaves."

He reached into a pocket in the chest of his armor and pulled out a lock pick. Even in her agitated state, Lidda had to marvel at the man's skill. With years of practice and experience, she still did not posses the easy flair with which Kargle undid the lock. He inserted the tool and with a quick flick of his wrist, the mechanism snapped open.

For that matter, Lidda thought, watching Kargle drop the pick into his armor and reach for the handle, why didn't Flint just go right for the staff herself? And where did the gnolls fit into it all?

Kargle moved down the short hallway. He stopped outside the door of the guardroom. Lidda crept up to his side, fingering the blackjack. She glanced back at Malthooz standing near the door and saw the worry in his eyes. If he was right, then getting Kargle out of the way now might be the best thing she could do.

It certainly wasn't beyond the guild master to double-cross anyone. If the price was right, it was probably Flint's preferred method. She could profit triple-fold. There would be the wizard's money when he paid for the artifact's passage, more of it when she brokered the wizard's hiring of the adventurers, and the final payoff of keeping the staff for herself.

Lidda felt Kargle's eyes on her. A grin slid across his lips as he tapped the end of the blackjack against the side of his leg and started toward the guardroom.

If the Deepwood didn't do them in, Flint's gnoll should have, but that was where Flint made her error. She didn't count on the group's success. Lidda shrugged. It was now or never, as she saw it.

She swung the blackjack hard across the back of Kargle's head. The knot on the top of the weapon struck the man's skull with a thud, and his body crumpled to the floor. She looked at him for a few moments, then back at the startled Malthooz.

"So much for the help," she quipped. "Let's go get our friends."

Krusk was bored. He'd paced the cell all afternoon, stopping occasionally only to shake the bars and curse at the guards upstairs. The women took the barbarian's impatience in stride. They'd long since realized the futility of trying to calm him down and figured that he'd tire sooner or later.

They just didn't know how much later.

"That damned rogue better do something soon," he fumed. "If she leaves town, I'll-"

"Whoa, Krusk," Vadania said, jumping up and moving to the barbarian's side. "You know she'd never even think of leaving us here."

She steered him over to Mialee and forced him to sit down.

The wizard patted his shoulder and said, "Easy, boy."

Krusk was ablaze with anger. Most of the day had been spent composing a mental list of all the people he intended to throttle when he got out of the dungeon. Eva Flint was at the top, but Lidda was right behind in second place.

Krusk knew what friendship was. He certainly knew what loyalty was. What he didn't appreciate was patience.

"I don't care if Flint had nothing to do with any of it," he growled. "I want to kick her head into a basket."

The spot of light that shone through the cell's shaft to the outside world crawled across the floor and halfway up the opposite wall as the day wore on. As evening fell, the frustration of imprisonment was wearing at them all.

It was a welcome respite from boredom when a guard made his way to their cell with the evening meal. Tin platters clattered across stones as the man set them on the ground and slid them through a gap in the bars.

"It's not much," he said, "but probably more than you deserve."

Krusk no longer had the energy to curse the man. His anger was focused elsewhere.

Vadania collected the plates and gave one to each of her companions before grabbing her own and taking a seat on the straw next to Mialee. A thin stew sloshed across the bottom of the plates. Krusk pushed the liquid around with a hard chunk of stale bread before managing a bite. It was awful. He'd have thrown it back at the guard if not for his gnawing hunger.

The jailer returned a while later with two guards in tow. They moved slowly down the row of cells, collecting plates and replacing chamber pots. The guards stood outside the cells with crossbows drawn as the jailer went in after the used urns.

"Don't try it," Vadania said, squeezing Krusk's arm as the jailer opened the door to their cell.

The guard kept a wary eye and a crossbow pointed at the barbarian as the jailer dropped an urn in the rear of their cell and grabbed the old one. Krusk growled as the man passed him by and exited the cell. The jailer shut the door and turned the key with an odd grin before moving on to the next cell.

Krusk saw Mialee's ears perk and watched her and Vadania exchange looks. The druid held her hand up to her mouth. A few minutes later, they heard the heavy door at the top of the staircase slam shut.

Mialee jumped up and moved to the door of the cell. She looked up and down the hallway, then gave the door a kick. It swung open. The barbarian was on his feet at once.

"It's our chance," he said through clenched teeth, "and we'll take it now."

"Is it broken?" Vadania asked. "Did he use the wrong key?"

"I don't know, and I don't care," Mialee said. "Maybe it's pure luck. I'm not asking questions or waiting for answers."

"Nor I," said Krusk. "I can handle those guards if I have a little room to maneuver."

"What if there are others?" the druid asked.

"So much the worse for them," Krusk replied. "You can stay and worry about their welfare if you want to, but I'm getting out of here.

"Coming?" he asked.

Krusk glared menacingly at the other prisoners as he passed down the row of cells.

"Make so much as a peep and I'll snap all of your necks," he growled.