David Cook: King Pinch

Straddling the hole, Pinch suppressed the urge to drop the blundering halfling to his well-deserved fate. Do that and there was no doubt the little knave would sing hymns for the catchpoles. So he had no choice but to pull, heedless of the strain, until he drew up great arm-lengths of rope and the halfling was hurtling toward the temple's painted ceiling.

"To the roof! Alarms! Blow the alarms!" came the muffled bellow from below.

"OWWW!" came the more immediate cry as the rope suddenly came to jarring halt. " 'inch, lay aw a liddle! Yer bregging by dose!"

A foot of line slid through the rogue's fingers and the weight on the other end bounced with a jolt. A small hand thrust through the hole and flailed until it gripped the edge. "Up-but slowly!" wailed Sprite-Heels from below.

Pinch cast his gaze over the windswept rooftop, trying to guess how long they had. "Did you get it-the pelfry?"

" 'Course I did!" came the indignant reply. The half-ling's arm struggled and heaved until his curly head popped into view. "Pinch, help me out of here! They're getting archers!"

"Pass me the garbage-all of it!"

Sprite-Heels looked at Pinch's out-thrust hand. "A pox on that!" he spat out as he lunged forward and caught the rogue's wrist in his tiny grip. "You'll not drop me twice!"

Pinch didn't resist, but heaved his small companion through the hole. "I should take it, for the way you've bungled this job!" he snarled.

"Bungled! You're the one who-"

CR-RACK! A burst of splintered tile slashed across Pinch's arm. Wheeling, Pinch saw the silhouette of two guardsmen, one twirling his arm over his head.

"Slingers! Down!" The man shoved the halfling as he dropped toward the rooftop. There was a whirring buzz just over his head and then his feet slipped out from beneath him. Unbraced on the pitched slope, Pinch skidded and rattled several feet down the tile roof before he was able to arrest his slide. The darkness beyond the third-story eave loomed ominously below.

Pinch scrambled for purchase, his feet skittering across the tiles. Sprite-Heels was facing him, back pressed against the brick pile of the chimney. The only advantage gained in his fall was that the stack screened his attackers, but not seeing them hardly made them go away. Over the fits of the wind, Pinch and the halfling could hear the heavy-footed clunk of the temple sentinels as they picked their way across the angled tiles.

A throng of voices rose up from the courtyard below as the alarm leapt like an elemental spark through the temple compound. Pinch twisted around just in time for the brilliant glare of a spotter's lantern to sweep over the eaves. The wash of light swung their way, not quite on them but close enough to highlight the fear in Sprite-Heels's countenance.

The rogue's sharp whistle jerked the wavering half-ling back to action. A snap of the head and a sharp gesture were all that Pinch had to do before his small partner nodded in agreement. The knowing eye and the sure hand were the language of all thieves.

As if on a spoken signal, the pair sprang into motion. They barreled around the chimney, one to each side, and straight into the faces of the two guardsmen who'd been trying to creep forward with ox-footed stealth. "Clubs!" bellowed Pinch, letting loose the time-honored battling cry of Elturel's apprentices. The astonished guardsman flailed madly with his sword, the blade slashing the air over Pinch's gray-curled head. The thief didn't stop to fence but swung his balled fist in an uppercut beneath the other's guard. Knuckles slammed into hardened jerkin right below the breastbone. The guard sucked air like a drowning man; Pinch cursed like a sailor. The sword hit the tiles with a sharp crash and skittered over the eaves like a living thing while the guard took a floundering step back. All at once, he tipped precipitously as one foot found the burglars' hole and disappeared from sight.

At the rim of his attention, Pinch saw Sprite-Heels was no less quick. As the halfling easily dodged beneath the tall guard's lunge, there was a flash of metal and a bewildered scream. Like a rag doll, the guard tumbled against the chimney, hands clutching the back of his leg below his armored coat.

Ignoring all else, Pinch scrambled up the wavering slope of tile and lunged over the ridge. Momentum skidded him halfway down and then he was up and running with short, acrobatic steps. He clambered over a gable and then swung precariously around the edge of a conic tower before he came to the dark and shadowed alley they had started from. Moving with greater care, he searched for their rope to the alley below. Just then Sprite-Heels tumbled over the ridgeline, coming from a different direction.

"Anyone following?" Pinch demanded.

Sprite-Heels grinned while he caught his breath. "Not a one… of the patrico's men… not even a rat," he gasped.

"And the pelfry?"

The halfling reached inside his vest and pulled out a crudely forged amulet embossed with a stylized half-sun symbol. Pinch snatched the booty and pulled the startled halfling to his feet.

"Right, then. To the rope."

As they neared the line, Pinch instantly knew there was trouble. A noise carried over the wind that others, less keen, might miss. It was a steady creak, the sawing to and fro of a line. He signaled Pinch to silence and crept forward over the terra-cotta terrain.

Sure enough, there was someone on the rope. It jerked from side to side as someone pulled himself up. Signaling Sprite-Heels to stand watch, Pinch carefully peered over the edge of the roof.

Halfway below was the dim shape of a climber. From the bulky shape and the oversized helmet, there was no mistaking it was one of the temple's men. In the middle of the alley was a pool of light where the climber's partner stood holding a lantern.

"Pinch, they're coming!" Sprite-Heels hissed. As if to prove his warning there was a thunderous clatter of boots across tile.

The pursuit was hard on, and their escape route was blocked. In a few more moments the climber would reach the roof, putting the two thieves between enemy swords. There was no forward and there was no back.

With barely the touch of thought, a small knife seemed to materialize in Pinch's hand. The blade flashed in the lantern light as he reached over the eaves. A yelp of alarm burst from below. With a single swipe, the razor-sharp edge severed the thin silken line. The yelp became a squeal until it ended in a solid whump of flesh and steel.

"At the back!" roared a voice from the top of the ridgepole. The vanguard of their pursuers was silhouetted against the shivering night, the wind furiously whipping their plumed helmets as they blundered forward.

Fear making their thoughts fleet, Pinch and Sprite-Heels frantically cast about for an escape, now that their rope was gone. Suddenly Pinch saw dark, moving branches in the void of the alley between the somber temple walls and the garish lanterns of the festhalls. A plan formed in his mind; he knew it was a bad plan, but it was the only choice he had.

"With me!" Pinch shouted to encourage himself. And then, even though he wasn't a strong man, the rogue scooped up the halfling around the waist. With three all-out strides and before Sprite-Heels could even squeak, Pinch leapt into the darkness, his partner tucked under one arm. With his other arm he reached out as far as he could and with his eyes closed, Pinch prayed.

"Pinch! Are you-"

All at once the pair hit the top branches of the only tree in Sweetsweat Lane. Flailing for something to grip, the master thief dropped Sprite-Heels, who was squirming and howling enough already. The branches tore at Pinch's face, shredded his fine doublet, and hammered him in the ribs. Still he crashed through them, seeming to go no slower as momentum carried him in a sweeping arc toward the ground.