T Lain - Treachery's Wake

The group stopped in front of a cell at the far end of the hallway and waited while the jailer searched for the right key. He was an old and frail man. The half-dozen armed guards following the group ensured his safety.

“This should be it,” he said, slipping the key into a rusty keyhole and turning it with a grating clack. The door to the cell squealed open. Krusk felt a boot in his back propelling him inside.

Damp straw was scattered across the floor of the cell. Aside from a small urn in the back corner, the room was bare. Moisture dripped down the rough, stone walls, feeding small patches of green moss growing on the mortar between the blocks. A single, narrow shaft cut through the stonework, letting in a thin stream of light from the streets above. The pale glow that came through the opening cast a small spot of brightness on the otherwise gray floor.

“Welcome to your new home,” a guard said as he guided the company into the cell. “It’s not much, but you’ll get used to it.” He chuckled. “Most of ’em do, eventually.” He removed the rags that were tied around Vadania’s and Mialee’s heads. “You’re free to try your magic,” he said as stuffed the rags into a pocket in the front of his uniform, “but you won’t get too far with it here, what with the wards and all.”

He looked Krusk up and down but left his gag in place. The jailer shut the cell door, sealing any hope of escape with a long steel key.

“Bah,” Krusk sputtered as Mialee untied his gag and tossed the rag aside. “Damn those thieves! I said from the start they were not to be trusted.”

“We don’t know who is behind this,” Vadania said, rubbing her wrists. “I’m not going to jump to conclusions. Your stunt at the inn could have gotten us all killed.”

Krusk growled, “Whatever you decide, it won’t get us out of here. Not with the city’s officials giving our arrest their backing.” He spat. “I don’t know who is worse, the thieves or the politicians.”

He looked around the cell. Deep scratches marked one of the walls, a series of short lines running in parallel across its length. He tried to count the marks but quickly lost track. He wasn’t sure if they were meant to mark days, weeks, or months, but he was determined that, one way or another, he would not spend any length of time behind bars.

“At least Malthooz and Lidda escaped,” Mialee said hopefully. “We’ll get out of this yet. After all, we’re innocent.”

Laughter rang up and down the row of cells, and the barbarian joined it.

“Who are you trying to convince, wizard?”

Krusk wasn’t sure which was funnier, leaving his life in the hands of his incompetent “brother” Malthooz or placing his trust in the rogue. He detested both options.

Malthooz hurried down the street behind Lidda. They were moving toward the docks. He had no idea where she was going or what the rogue had in mind. His own mind was racing too quickly for him to reason out anything useful.

They hustled on for what seemed to be hours. Up and down the streets of Newcoast they skulked, keeping an eye out for members of the city guard, trying not to draw attention to themselves while ducking into alleys and doorways at the slightest hint of pursuit. At this point, anyone and everyone that Malthooz trusted was behind bars. Everyone but Lidda, he reminded himself. And how much did he really know about her?

His thoughts drifted to the warmth and camaraderie he’d felt in his own village. All that day he missed it terribly and berated himself for ever leaving. The times he spent seated around a fire listening to the elders telling stories, recounting tales of brave heroes who’d been dead for generations, tales of an all but forgotten age—nothing in the world seemed so appealing to him. He shook his head. Those heroic times were long past, and he was a long way from home. If he held any hope of helping his friends he would have to abandon such romantic notions and deal only with reality.

They made their way slowly along the waterfront, passing the rows of wharves that ran the length of the city’s bay. Lidda moved as though she knew what she was looking for. Malthooz had a hard time keeping up, he was hungry and cold, and he wasn’t sure how the halfling would react to a question even if he could get her to slow down long enough for him to ask something.

Lidda turned toward the edge of the pier. She looked down for a second then dropped over the side. Malthooz ran to the edge and peered over.

The rogue stood on a narrow dock that was sunken between two larger piers. The platform floated on the surface of the bay, anchored in place by a long row of pilings. A ladder ran from the side of the wharf at Malthooz’s feet to the tarred planks below. Lidda had obviously taken a quicker way down.

Malthooz climbed deliberately down the ladder, trying to look nonchalant. Lidda crouched amidst a pile of crates and netting. Malthooz dropped down next to her, his heart pounding. He looked around for signs of the city guard, but no one was in sight. A few squat rowboats bobbed gently along the length of the dock. Above him, Malthooz heard the sounds of men unloading the ships that towered on either side of their hiding spot.

“I’ve got to go to the guild,” Lidda said.

Malthooz shook his head slowly, collecting his thoughts. He wasn’t sure that was a good idea. Someone had set them up, and the guild was the prime contender for lead suspect. He didn’t want to question Lidda’s loyalty to himself and the others, but he knew how much she wanted the guild’s favor and thought that her desire might be clouding her judgment.

Lidda obviously saw his hesitation.

“I know that the gnolls are responsible for the wizard’s death,” she explained. “I think that Wotherwill wasn’t being straight with us.”

Malthooz listened but didn’t respond. Lidda’s theory could make sense, if the gnolls had known about the treasure and set out to steal it for reasons that weren’t clear. He’d seen the hunger in the old mans eyes during their first meeting and knew how well the wizard had paid them for recovering and delivering the staff. Clearly it was very valuable, but Lidda’s theory relied on many “ifs.” If the murder and theft had been engineered by the thieves guild, all the pieces fell into place much more readily.

“Remember, Wotherwill said the thing attracted evil,” Lidda argued, “and that gnoll was a spellcaster, too. I think the wizard stole the staff from it in the first place and the gnoll was just stealing it back. Or maybe it was working for another owner.”

Malthooz stopped shaking his head, but he still wasn’t convinced.

“If you have any better ideas, speak up, Malthooz,” spat Lidda. “I know what you’re thinking. You don’t know whether you can trust me. If the guild was behind all this, then I might be part of it.”

Malthooz gulped. The accusation sounded so harsh coming from her.

“If you want to see the others again, we’re going to have to work fast, and we’re going to have to work together. Once the system in this town gets hold of them, they’ll either be put to death or left to rot.”

Lidda paused, looking for some sign of agreement from the half-orc, but he only sat silently, head bowed.

“Flint’s our only option, whether you trust her or not. She trusted me with this job,” the rogue pleaded. “I think she’ll help.”

Malthooz stirred. “All right,” he responded, nodding slowly. “I can agree with you that there doesn’t seem to be any other way. I think it’s a big gamble, though.”

Lidda grinned.

“But,” Malthooz continued, “I’m not going with you.”

Lidda tried to object but the half-orc ignored her. He was stalling, trying to work things out in his mind, piecing together the events of the past few hours.