Mike Wild - The Clockwork King of Orl

Whatever the reason, it had led him to his present unsavoury predicament. Makennon had returned him to a cell but this time somewhere she could keep an eye on him, a small oubliette she just happened to maintain in her private courtyard, which was obviously used only for very special guests. He had felt quite flattered by this and had returned the favour by singing romantic ballads night and day — his very own Eternal Choir. But all good things had to come to an end and, after two weeks, she had ordered his execution at the earliest opportunity.

This was fine by him, as he had never intended hanging around. He'd have been gone the first night had he not needed to lose a little weight first. Not that he was overweight, of course, just — well, a little big. A little big for the hole in the oubliette floor, that was.

It was a flaw in security but a necessary one, because with the amount of rain over Scholten, without it he or anyone else kept in the oubliette would have drowned. The hole had probably once been too small for anyone to pass through but it was also long unmaintained — its grate rusted — and, over time, the draining water had worn away its edges, providing a smooth-edged if extremely tight squeezeway through the floor. The fact was, if he had been fully clothed, he'd have had to strip anyway to get through.

Definitely. Yes, without a doubt.

Slowhand shook his head. Hooper would never have believed that he'd done it again. Once — just once — he'd like to catch her losing her clothes in the line of duty. Then she'd know that these things just had a way of happening. But no — there was no chance of that, was there? Not with little Miss Prissy Knickers.

Slowhand continued crawling forwards, estimating he'd pass beyond the cathedral walls in about ten more minutes. Ahead of him, he could actually see a dim circle of azure night sky that was the sewer's outlet.

Unfortunately, that same light was also partly obscured, silhouetting something coming straight towards him. And down here it could have been anything.

Slowhand cursed. Feeling somewhat vulnerable in his present state, he looked for somewhere to hide. His eyes darted ahead of him, behind him, down and up, but he was in a sewer and there was nowhere to go. He was actually so involved in doing what he did that he failed to notice how quickly the something was coming at him. And the something was so involved in getting where it wanted to be that it didn't notice him.

Heads collided.

"Ow, dammit!"

"Jeeeeshhh!"

A face popped up right in front of his.

"Slowhand?" Kali Hooper said.

He strained to see in the dark. "Hooper? Oh hells, don't tell me — you can see better in the dark, too?"

"Looks like it. So… how are you doing?"

"Oh, you know…"

"Mmm."

"Mmm."

The usual exchange went on for a while until Kali suggested they backtrack slightly in her direction, where an access shaft meant the roof of the sewer opened up. They moved to it, and Kali and Slowhand stood.

As he rose, the sewer's detritus slipped off his body, and Kali saw what was beneath. Or rather wasn't.

She turned quickly away. "Oh gods, you're naked again, Slowhand. How in the hells do you manage it?"

"Hey — don't blame me, blame Makennon," he defended himself. "Or maybe even yourself — in case you've forgotten you're the reason I got locked up again." He waved at himself. "Like this."

"You told me to go!"

"Of course I did — but I didn't expect you to come back! What the hells are you doing here, Hooper? Did you forget something?"

Kali's expression became serious. "I was too late to save the old man."

Slowhand faltered. "Gods, I'm sorry."

"I know you are. But before he died, he told me what's going on. Sent me to Andon. This whole mess is worse than we thought."

Slowhand bowed his head, sighed. "When is it ever anything else? Tell me."

Kali explained the gist of what she'd learned, omitting only those parts she was still working out in her own head, and, as she did, the expression in the archer's eyes changed from anticipation to resignation, and he rested his palms on the sewer wall, slowly banging his head against them. "I suppose this means I'm not escaping any more?"

"I… might be grateful for a little help."

Slowhand punched the sewer wall. "I knew it!" He pointed ahead, would have jumped up and down like a petulant brat if he could. "Do you realise I'm only a hundred yards from the exit! A hundred yards, Hooper. I see the light at the end of the tunnel!"

"I know. I came in that way. Slowhand, what can I say? The outside world's not all it's cracked up to be?"

"Aaarrgh!" Slowhand roared in frustration.

"Oh, will you stop it," Kali chided him. "Look, I hardly expected to find you crawling about down here, all right? In fact, I thought you were dead." She paused, quietened, and added softly, "I'm glad you're not, by the way."

Killiam stared at her in her new dark silk bodysuit, and his tone softened. "Yeah, me too. Like the new look, by the way. Very nice outfit. Clingy. It, er, shows off your good points."

Kali folded her arms. "It's damp and I'm cold, you pervert. Now, are you with me or not, because I want out of this sewer…"

"Oh, funnily enough, so did I!" Killiam offered, flinging up his arms, though by now it was obvious that he didn't mean it. Nevertheless, the action resulted in something flying off his hands and slapping Kali in the face. Slowhand looked down, apologised.

Kali wiped the article away, shaking her head. "There's an access shaft in the ceiling about two hundred yards back," she said. "Comes out near the Eternal Choir. We can work our way back down to the complex from there."

"Okay, I'll go first," Killiam said, bending back to enter the tunnel.

Kali grabbed him. "O-ho, no. If you think I'm going to crawl along looking at your rear end in all its glory, you've got another think coming." She got down on her hands and knees. "I go first."

"Fine, fine," Killiam said, tiredly. But as Kali moved forwards into the tunnel he smiled at the sight of her bottom, stuck his finger in his mouth to wet it, and drew a tick in the air. It was only a moment later he realised his mistake.

"Guh… uh… ahhhh… pits…"

"Hah!" Kali said. "What was that, by the way? On your — ?"

"Sewerkraut, I think."

"Don't you mean — "

"No, Hooper. I know what I mean."

The pair found the access shaft and up it a ladder that rose to cathedral level, which they climbed, shoving aside a grate. They emerged into a corridor filled with the singing of the Eternal Choir, and the first thing Killiam did was flatten a guard who stood in a doorway mouthing the words as he listened to it. He quickly stripped him of his armour, then donned it himself, bundling the body into a dark niche.

Kali looked him up and down. "Better," she said.

Slowhand shrugged, buckling up his collarpiece. "Yeah, well — this time we're not planning to go flying anywhere, are we?"

"The door's just down there — come on."

"Wait," Slowhand said. "There's something I need to get first. From Makennon's chambers."

"What? Are you nuts?"

"Trust me, Hooper. I've a feeling we're going to need this thing."

Slowhand led Kali to the Anointed Lord's audience chamber — deserted, Kali guessed because Makennon was down at the dig — and opened a compartment in the wall. Kali found herself staring at the most magnificent-looking longbow she had ever seen. She knew where it must have come from — the Battle of Andon, eight years earlier. This was the weapon that had killed John Garrison.

Slowhand weighed it in his hands, ran his palm along its sleek lines. "Suresight," he said. "Never thought I'd see her again."

"Careless of you to lose her."