T Lain - Treachery's Wake

“Look at it this way,” he said. “It will be safer for you if you approach the guild alone, and I’ll feel better about it. If the situation is the way you think it is, then everything will be fine and it won’t matter if I’m with you or waiting somewhere else, but if you’re wrong, or even if something happens to you, I’ll still be on the loose. I know it’s a long shot, but there’s always a chance I might come up with a plan on my own.”

“I think you’re being foolish,” she said, “but you’re probably right that they wouldn’t let me through the back door with you in tow.”

The rogue stood up, looking quickly in all directions before stepping out from the jumble of crates where they were hiding.

She paused for a moment and said, “There’s an inn close by the guild. It’s called the Lock and Keel. We passed it about an hour ago. There’s a pair of oars hanging over the door. Do you remember it?”

“I think I can find it.”

Lidda smiled and said, “Good. Wait for me there. I don’t know how long this will take.”

The rogue turned and hustled down the dock. She climbed the ladder two rungs at a time. Seconds later she was gone. Malthooz settled back against a crate. He took a deep breath and looked at the sky. The sun passed behind the white cloth of a sail. By the time it hit the line of hills on the far side of the harbor, he’d have his answer, the half-orc thought.

Moments later, he was on his feet. He wasn’t sure what compelled him or what he hoped to find as he climbed the ladder and stepped onto the street. The cleric had called it faith. He was acting on no more than a hunch, he knew, but at least his intuition hadn’t recently been proven to be riddled with flaws. It was as good a place to put his trust as any other, Malthooz thought as he set out for the Bung and Blade.

He moved purposefully along the waterfront, believing that he would attract less attention if he looked as if he knew where he was going. At the same time, he kept an eye out for the city watch. Sailors and stevedores passed him by without a glance as he made his way to the nearest alley. Malthooz had no clear idea how cities of this size functioned. It seemed amazing that anyone could keep track of so much activity, let alone keep tabs on everyone or find a particular person. He moved along quiet, narrow, shadowed streets as much as possible, and joined in jostling crowds where necessary. Half-orcs were not that common in Newcoast. He paused a few times to hide amidst the rubbish and barrels crammed into the narrow spaces between buildings.

When at last he rounded the corner of a narrow lane that ran behind the Bung and Blade, the breath caught in his throat and he jumped back into the shadows.

As he’d feared, the inn was being watched. A member of the city guard stood at each end of the alley, and two more stood near the front entrance. That left little hope that he could sneak into the place, though the thought of his pack of books lying in the room upstairs made him long to try. The sleepy, bored look of the guards was almost enough to make him believe he could do it. One of them leaned against the building grooming his fingernails with a short knife while two others tossed a cupful of dice beneath the front window of the common room.

The official presence didn’t seem to be frightening off any customers. Malthooz watched a knot of patrons make their way through the front door. Then again, from what hed tasted of this city, murder and thievery were everyday occurrences.

“Damn,” he cursed softly.

At least he knew for a fact that he and Lidda were still wanted, that even in a city this size, the guard still held hope of finding them. Malthooz turned to go, but stopped. Another figure stood in the shadows near the front of the pub. A dark cowl covered the person’s head and hid his face. He appeared to be thin and of average height, dressed in a plain, dark cloak. One of the dice-casting guards stood up and approached the man. Malthooz saw the guard surreptitiously take something from the mysterious figure and stuff it in his pocket. The figure then stepped from the shadow and slipped down the road, disappearing from the half-orcs sight around the nearest corner.

Malthooz shook his head. His imagination would get the best of him if he allowed himself to see conspiracy in every transaction. He turned to go. If even the city guards were corrupt in Newcoast, he thought, then he still had a lot to learn about cities.

“I am as surprised and shocked over the wizard’s sudden death as you are,” Eva Flint said, offering Lidda a seat. “If the city hadn’t come sniffing around the guild for clues Id have been content to let your friends rot in a cell, convinced that you killed him in order to seize the staff for yourselves. As it is now, I’m told that I am a prime suspect.”

She poured herself a glass of wine from the carafe on her desk and offered one to Lidda.

“I can’t afford to have anyone breathing down my neck. It’s bad for business. I do have certain privileges in this city.” She rolled the word privileges luxuriously around her tongue. “Unfortunately, murder isn’t one of them. Besides,” she said grinning, “I’d hate to see a sister go down.”

“That’s’ not a very reassuring tone,” Lidda said. “If we wanted the staff, we never would have come back with it.”

The guild master laughed.

“Don’t misunderstand me,” she said, raising her hand. “It is still in my interest to help you. It’s just gotten more complicated.” She gave Lidda a sly wink. “I need a favor.”

Lidda nodded and said, “The gnolls.”

Eva refilled her glass.

“No,” she said, “although I think the wizard played us both for saps on that score.”

“So what do you need me to do?”

“I need you to leave the city,” she said.

“That’s all?”

“That, and you’ll likely not want to show your faces in these parts for quite some time, if ever.”

“Because of the murder,” Lidda said.

Flint nodded and replied, “I can help you get your friends out of the dungeon, but then I need you to disappear. That will cement your guilt in the eyes of the magistrates. You get your friends back, and I get the city off my back and my name cleared in this business.”

She motioned toward the door at the side of her chamber and the doorman entered.

“This is Kargle,” she told Lidda. “I believe you’ve met before. He’s going to help you.”

Lidda studied the man, for the first time in adequate light. His body was wrapped in a tight-fitting suit of supple leather armor that covered him completely, from his neck to his ankles and from his shoulders to his wrists. Over this, he wore a plain, gray cloak. His eyes were deep brown and set far back in his skull, accenting his hollow cheeks. He looked to be middle aged, though with the physical conditioning of a much younger man. A short sword was strapped to his side, but Lidda was certain that other weapons were hidden in his armor and the folds of his cloak. He bowed to the rogue and offered his hand.

“Will be a pleasure to work with you, m’lady.”

Lidda blushed in spite of herself, hearing Kargle refer to her as he did the guild master.

“While I hold the favor of many in positions of power,” Flint said, moving around her desk, “petty officials can be boringly obtuse when they decide to do things by the book. I’ve done what I can from a distance, but you’re still going to need a little help setting your friends free.”

The poor fool, the guild master thought, as Kargle closed the door behind Lidda and himself. That mattered little to her now, though. Even if she had grown to like the halfling’s style, the mayor required something to show for the wizard’s death.