David Grace - The Accidental Magician

"No. I will only say that if we do nothing our lives and those of our descendants will, in the coming generations, be slowly ground out until the lust of the Gogols has rendered us extinct. If that is to be our fate, better to suffer it now with at least a chance of defeating them than to do nothing and wait for the inevitable extermination of our people."

No sound disturbed Obron's chamber. Buster stood, twisted, ignoring the fiery ache in his knee. As if he were a wax figure whose eyes alone were alive, he glared at the decision makers with a look of both rage and infinite sorrow. Velo slowly turned his head to look at Hanther, then at Brax. Silently Brax extended his right hand and balled his gray-furred paw into a tiny fist. "The prisoners must be freed."

Velo, too, held out his arm and in a more restrained voice declared the same.

Hanther hesitated, and all stared at him. At last, shaking with fear, he, too, brought out a fist and in a squeaking whisper announced:

"So be it. The prisoners must be freed, and Kaneb protect us from the demons."

"Brax, rouse the Grays! Get them into the caverns. Break loose the bottlenecks. Remember, they must be wide enough for the Fanist. Open the box. We must choose a/ leader for the rescue party."

"No need there," Buster declared. "That job is already filled. It is my idea and my plan. I will be the one. Brax, lead me to the caverns. I'm an old Gray and it has been a long time since I've been out of Cicero. My memory fails me. Show me the way, and hurry. There's much to do before I can rest tonight."

Brax moved a few paces ahead of Buster, then halted and returned to the Gray. Placing his right arm around Buster's fragile waist, he helped the assistant keeper of the scullery limp to the hidden fissure which opened onto the secret ways to Cicero.

Buster led the fugitives at a hurried pace through Hazar's dungeon. He negotiated the darkened corridors with a sureness bred of many hours of studying illicitly copied plans. Grantin lost all interest in asking how their release was effected upon spying the first of the guards' bodies still leaking blood. Just beyond a bend in the corridor two figures appeared, but Buster ignored them. As they passed Grantin was able to identify the hunched forms of two Grays scrubbing a line of stain from the flagstone floor. Grantin's eyes followed the direction of the smear and saw that it led to an opening in the grime-encrusted wall. Obviously the body of a wounded Gray had been dragged back into a hidden entrance.

Grantin increased his pace until he reached Buster's side then whispered into the old Gray's ear:

"There was an exit back there; why didn't we take it? Why don't we escape while we can?"

"You couldn't. You wouldn't fit. We didn't have enough time to enlarge the tunnel. The only thing we can do is make for an old cavern under the foundations of the northwest wall. Now be quiet! We must go up to the street level, waylay the guard, then make our way as best we can around the First Circle to the Gate of Mammon."

Buster increased his gait to a limping, pain-ravaged sprint. In a few minutes the fugitives had reached the end of the corridor. Ahead were bare stone walls. At their left a twisting spiral staircase led to the ground level.

Buster climbed the first few stairs and halted until the rest had crowded around the bottom of the well. Putting his finger to his lips, he pantomimed his intention to eliminate the guard. Buster, however, was not obeyed. As the old Gray adjusted the hem of his tunic so that it covered the dagger's hilt. Castor climbed to his side and removed the knife. Buster sought to regain the blade, but Castor pushed back his hand and shook his head to indicate that the old Ajaj should remain with the others. Without waiting for agreement Castor loped noiselessly up the steps, followed a few paces behind by the other four.

When it had made one complete revolution of the spiral, the stairwell opened upon an identical hallway, this one also deserted. Castor motioned to his companions to follow. Castor maneuvered up the last steps with the greatest caution until he was able to peek over the edge of the wall. Another corridor dead-ended to the right. Across from the stone spiral, a short passage led to a guard post, then down several steps to a heavy door, presumably giving entrance to the First Circle.

Taking a deep breath. Castor strode directly up the stairs, across the hallway, and down to the guard. In this predawn hour the soldier was sleepy, more so than usual because of the extra duty. Castor approached within five feet of his post before he was noticed.

"Excuse me, my lord," Castor began before the guard could challenge him. "I have been charged to deliver a special message, but somehow I have become lost. If you could look at the writing on the paper perhaps you could give me directions." Castor set about patting his pockets as if in search of the document. "I had it here a moment ago-yes, here it is in my belt. If you would just bend over, my lord… it seems to be stuck."

Castor grasped the dagger's hilt where it rode his left hip beneath the cover of his tunic. The guard bent forward, curious as to the nature of the Gray's errand. When Castor could stall no longer, he whipped out the blade and swung it upward in a semicircular arc. The tip sliced effortlessly through the guard's bared throat. The Gogol slumped to the floor without making a sound. Castor wiped the blade on the soldier's sleeve, then ran back to the stairway and excitedly motioned for the fugitives to advance.

The five sprinted across the hallway and down the short corridor and, using the guard's keys, slipped through the door. Once outside Castor re-locked the portal and hid the key ring in a pile of trash. The streets were dark, but the ribbon of sky above them showed a faint reddish hue, presaging Pyra's imminent appearance. Since the outer battlements were the most likely to be patrolled, the five crept along single-file as close as possible to the edge of the outer wall.

Their route required them to pass by Lord Bolam's Gate of Lust. If the guards were alert there, it might be impossible to pass. Castor and Buster would probably have no problem. Even Grantin and Mara might be able to brazen it out, but Chom's form could never be disguised or excused. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Castor led the party to within twenty yards of Bolam's gate. His surveillance revealed two well-armed and alert attendants. Castor slipped back to consult with the others.

"Two guards, and wide awake," he whispered to the fugitives.

"Maybe we should go back the other way," Mara suggested, but already Buster was shaking his head.

"Look at the sky. Pyra has begun to rise. It is too late for that. We have only a few minutes to get past."

"What if we just walked by and ignored them? Perhaps they wouldn't stop us," Grantin suggested.

"No. I am certain they would find my extra pair of arms an irresistible distraction," Chom replied. "The obvious answer is for the four of you to go ahead while I will use another route and meet you at our destination." Without pausing to consider his own self-interest, Grantin surprised himself by blurting out an immediate no. Buster threw up his hands in bewildered defeat.

"A diversion might work," Castor said as he studied the rapidly lightening sky. "The four of us could divert the guards' attention. The Fanist might be able to slip past the opening without being noticed."

"Unlikely," Buster whispered, "but since I do not have a better suggestion, and since it is going to be daylight in a few more minutes, we may as well try it."

A plan was hastily agreed upon. The Ajaj and the humans set out, leaving Chom to creep as close as possible to the point where the wall was broken by the Gate of Lust.