‘A hat-rack could do that,’ Talen noted.
‘Truly.’
‘Do the guardsmen have any kind of set routine?’ Bevier asked.
‘Nay, Sir Knight. They do but hold themselves in readiness to respond to the commands of their King, nothing more. In truth, they are trumpeteers rather than warriors. Their primary duty is to announce with brazen notes to their fellow citizens that Santheocles will appear on the parapet to accept the adulation of the Cyrgai.’
‘And they do their waiting in the guardroom?’ Sparhawk pressed.
‘Save only for the pair who stand guard at the door to thy Queen’s prison and the other pair who bar the stairway which doth lead down into the lower levels of this tower.’
‘Can they get into the Queen’s cell from the guardroom? Bevier asked intently.
‘Nay. There is but one door.’
‘And how wide is the doorway between the guardroom and the main room?’
‘Wide enough for one man only, Sir Bevier.’
‘Kalten and I can hold that one, Sparhawk.’
‘Are there any other doors to the guardroom?’ Kalten asked.
Xanetia shook her head.
‘Any large windows?’
‘One window only—the mate to this one above us—though it is not barred.’
‘That narrows the opposition down to just those four guards in the main room then,’ Kalten said. ‘Bevier and I can keep the rest of them penned in for a week, if we have to.’
‘And Sparhawk and I can deal with the ones at the cell door and the top of the stairs,’ Mirtai added.
‘Let’s get Talen inside that cell,’ Sparhawk said, looking again toward the east, where a faint lessening of the darkness had begun.
Kalten scrambled back up the wall to the window and began digging at the mortar with his heavy dagger.
‘Slip around and keep watch, Anarae,’ Sparhawk whispered. ‘Let us know if anybody comes up those stairs.’
She nodded and went on back round the corner of the tower.
Sparhawk climbed up and attacked the mortar on the left side of the iron lattice while his friend continued to dig at the right.
After a few moments Kalten took hold of the rusty iron and pulled. ‘The bottom’s loose,’ he muttered. ‘Let’s get the top.’
‘Right.’ The two of them went to the top of the window and began to chip away the mortar there. ‘Be careful when it breaks away,’ Sparhawk cautioned. ‘We don’t want it clanging down on that parapet.’
‘This side’s free,’ Kalten whispered. ‘I’ll hold it while you dig your side loose.’ He reached inside, found a secure hand-hold with his right hand, and grasped the grating with his left.
Sparhawk dug harder, sending a shower of chunks and dust to the parapet below. ‘I think that’s got it,’ he whispered.
‘We’ll see.’ Kalten’s shoulders heaved and there was a grinding sound as the ancient grate tore loose from the wall. Then, with the same movement, Sparhawk’s burly friend hurled the heavy obstruction out beyond the balustrade.
‘What are you doing?’ Sparhawk choked.
‘Getting rid of it.’
‘Do you know how much noise that thing’s going to make when it hits the ground?’
‘So what? It’s five hundred feet down. Let it make all the noise it wants to. If some Cyrgai or Cynesgan slave-driver’s standing under it, he’s in for a nasty surprise, though. But we can live with that, can’t we?’
Sparhawk pushed his head through the now unobstructed opening. ‘Ehlana?’ he whispered. ‘Are you there?’
‘Where else would I be, Sparhawk?’
‘Sorry. Stupid question, I suppose. The bars are out of the way now. We’re sending Talen in. Shout or something as soon as he gets the lock jammed so that the guards can’t get through the door.’
‘Get out of the way, Sparhawk,’ Talen said abruptly from just below. ‘I can’t get in there with you filling up the whole window.’
Sparhawk swung himself clear of the opening, and the agile boy began to wriggle his way through. Suddenly he stopped.
‘It’s not working,’ he muttered. ‘Pull me back out.’
‘What’s wrong?’ Kalten demanded.
‘Just pull me back out, Kalten. I don’t have time to explain.’
Sparhawk’s heart sank as he and Kalten hauled the young thief back.
‘Hold on for a minute.’ Talen turned until he was on his side, and then he extended his arms until they were stretched out above his head. ‘All right then, push.’
‘You’ll just get stuck again,’ Kalten objected.
‘Then you’ll have to shove harder. This is what comes of all that wholesome food, exercise, and clean living you keep pushing on me, Sparhawk. I’ve grown so much that I can’t get my shoulders through.’ He began to wriggle through the opening again. ‘Push, gentlemen!’ he instructed.
The two of them pushed their hands against the soles of his feet.
‘Harder!’ he grunted.
‘You’ll tear all your skin off,’ Kalten warned.
‘I’m young. I heal fast. Push!’
The two shoved at his feet, and, with a great deal of squirming and a few muttered oaths, he was through.
‘Is he all right?’ Sparhawk whispered hoarsely through the window.
‘I’m fine, Sparhawk,’ Talen whispered back. ‘You’d better get moving. This won’t take me very long.’
Sparhawk and Kalten dropped back to the parapet. ‘Let’s go,’ Sparhawk said shortly, and the three knights and the Atan giantess moved quickly around the narrow parapet to the south side of the tower.
‘Quietly, Anakha.’ Xanetia’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere.
‘Are they stirring yet, Anarae?’ Bevier whispered.
‘Some few sounds do emanate from the guardroom,’ her voice replied.
There were two large, unglazed windows at the front of the tower, one on each side of the broad door. Sparhawk cautiously raised his head above the lower edge of one of them and peered inside. The room, as Aphrael had reported, was fairly large. It was sparsely furnished with benches, a few backless chairs, a couple of low tables, and it was lit with primitive oil lamps. There was a narrow door on the right side of the rear wall with two statue-like Cyrgai, one on each side, guarding it. The stairway on the left-hand side of the room, also guarded, was enclosed on three sides by a low wall. The second doorway, the one leading into the guardroom, was also on the left side, not far from the top of the stairs.
Sparhawk looked intently at the guards, closely studying their weapons and equipment. They were well-muscled men in archaic breastplates, crested helmets and short leather kilts. Each had a large round shield strapped to his left arm, and each grasped an eight-foot spear in his right. They all had swords and heavy daggers belted at their waists.
Sparhawk moved his head away from the window. ‘You’d all better take a look,’ he whispered to his friends.
One by one, Kalten, Bevier, and Mirtai raised up slightly to peer into the room.
‘Is this locked, Anarae?’ Sparhawk whispered, pointing at the door leading out onto the parapet.
‘I did not think it wise to try it, Anakha. Cyrgai construction is crude, and methinks no door-latch in the city may be attempted soundlessly.’
‘You’re probably right,’ he breathed. ‘Let’s pull back around the corner,’ he told the others, leading them round to the east side.
‘It’s getting lighter, Kalten noted, pointing toward the horizon.
Sparhawk grunted. ‘We’ll go in through the windows,’ he told them. ‘We’d just jam up if we tried to go through the doorway anyhow. Bevier, you and Mirtai go through the one on the far side of the door. Kalten and I’ll go through the one on this side. Be careful. Those spears seem to be their primary weapon, so they’ve probably had lots of training with them. Get in close and fast. Take them down in a hurry and then block that door to the guardroom. We’re going to have to hold those stairs, too.’