“Then there is a way to leave the Dome unseen. But we must spend some of your men to keep your enemies from following.”
The Tarkin grimaced, his handsome face a twisted mask. “How many?”
“You may spend as many as you like,” Din-eDin said. “That is what we are for.”
“You know your men,” Alkoryn said to the Guard Captain. “You tell me how many we’ll need. There are three points that should be held. Let men stand at the two staircases, the Coral and the Ruby, that lead down to the old summer kitchens. Let them hold as long as they may, and then fall back to the intersection where the old serving corridor meets the Onyx Walk. That is the final point. If that is held long enough, we’ll be able to get away. But,” he looked Din-eDin in the eye, “if we are hard-pressed, the men who hold that point will not escape with us. They must stand.”
The Guard Captain stopped nodding. “There’s no escape through the old kitchens.”
“And as long as everyone believes that, we’ll be safe.” Alkoryn said.
“What do you know, old man?” The Tarkin had some hope on his face.
“Enough to get us out of here safely.”
Din-eDin shook his head, “They will know where we went.”
Alkoryn bared his teeth. “They will know where, perhaps, but unless we have no luck at all, they will not know how.”
“Jay.” Din-eDin turned to a young dark-haired man. “Take two men and hold the Ruby Staircase. Taryn, it’s the Coral Stairs for you and two others. Send anyone of ours you see, any you know to be with us, to the old kitchens. You know your orders.”
It was not a question, but the dark-haired guard answered. “Hold our positions as long as we can. Do we fall back, Captain, or would you prefer us to die at our stations?”
He was grinning, but Dhulyn could tell from the set of his jaw that his question was meant seriously.
“Why don’t you improvise, man?” Din-eDin said with a grin of his own that was answered by all the guards. “The rest of you are with us. Stay with the Tarkin, no matter what passes. After we reach the Onyx Walk, you’ll take your orders from Alkoryn the Charter until you’re free of the Dome, and then from the Tarkin himself.”
“Dhulyn Wolfshead will be my voice,” came the harsh whisper of the old Mercenary. “Listen for her.”
The guards nodded, some of them studying the Mercenary woman covertly. A few looked as though they would have felt better if Alkoryn had said Parno was to be his second, not, she knew, because she was a woman, but because she was so obviously an Outlander.
The Tarkin had not moved. He was still leaning against his worktable, arms folded across his chest, frowning down at the spot where his dog should have been lying.
“My lord,” Din-eDin said.
The Tarkin blinked and stood up straight. “Zelianora and the children.”
Dhulyn glanced at Alkoryn and waited to speak until he’d nodded.
“Tell us the way, and if you’ve arms for us, Parno, Hernyn, and I will go for the Tarkina,” she said, “and meet you by the Ruby Stairs.” Or even if you don’t have arms, she refrained from saying out loud. Guard Captain Din-eDin no doubt felt inadequate enough.
Fanryn Bloodhand stepped off the last of the twisted narrow flight of treads cut into the rock deep under Mercenary House and felt her eyebrows rise and her mouth form an “oh” as her lantern illuminated what Alkoryn had called the lower chamber. A grunt reminded her she wasn’t alone and she moved forward out of Thionan Hawkmoon’s way.
“Well,” Thionan said after a minute of staring about her. “Big enough, isn’t it?”
Fanryn nodded. The chamber was a good four spans long, partly natural, and partly cut out of the rock, with beds for at least twenty and space for twenty more.
Holding her lantern higher, Thionan moved deeper into the room. “There’s bedding,” she said, “and the air’s fresh enough. Cold, though.”
“We’ll send one of the youngsters down to start a fire,” Fanryn said, indicating the iron stove along the right-hand wall and the pile of neatly cut logs stacked next to it. “Make sure everything is warm and dry.”
“What is it?” her Partner said, as Fanryn stood still near the bottom of the stairway.
Fanryn shrugged. “I didn’t like sending Hernyn off again like that. One of us should have gone.”
“And spoil the fun of his first real danger? Go on, he wouldn’t have thanked us. And besides,” Thionan said, putting her arm around Fanryn’s waist. “Our orders were to hold the House.”
Fanryn nodded, doing her best to smile. “And with luck, Hernyn’ll come back with whoever it is Alkoryn wants this room made ready for.”
“There you go,” Thionan said, giving her Partner a squeeze. “Let’s get out of here, it’s too blooded cold.”
Dhulyn followed Parno and Hernyn, their feet silent on the winter matting of the corridor, hefting a blade unusually well-balanced, considering the amount of gold and jewels decorating it. She supposed it followed that the nearest weapons to the Tarkin’s private study should come from the Tarkin’s personal armory. Even the dagger she had in her boot was worth more than all her other possessions, books included. Good thing, too, as so far in this campaign they’d made no money at all.
“Parno, my soul,” she said in the voice one used on nightwatch, the voice that didn’t carry. “What happened to that purse of money the old Tenebroso gave us?”
“Gone when I woke up in the cell with our Brothers.”
“Another thing that one-eyed piece of inglera dung owes us,” she muttered under her breath.
They had advanced as far as the end of the final dressed-stone corridor that led away from the Old Tower, and had turned into a wider, wood-paneled hallway when they heard the soft tramp of careful feet, offset by the muted jingle of soldiers’ harness. The Mercenaries slowed, if possible becoming even more silent than they had been before.
Parno raised his brows at her. “For or against?” he asked in the nightwatch murmur.
“Against,” she answered.
“How do you know?” Hernyn said.
Parno shut his eyes and shook his head slightly, but Dhulyn answered. “Their footsteps are hesitant. If they were on our side, they’d know where they were going. Since not for us, against us.”
“They’re closer,” Parno said.
Dhulyn looked around quickly. The hallway was a long one, and they had come too far down it to be sure of getting back to the cross corridor without being seen. And, unlike Tenebro House, there were no hiding places in the hallway itself-the original designer had seen to that, and the later inhabitants had been careful not to disturb it.
“Dhulyn.” She’d known Parno long enough to hear the impatience in his voice.
“Fine. We kill them.”
“I don’t understand,” Hernyn said, stepping into the lead at Dhulyn’s gesture. Dhulyn merely shook her head.
“She doesn’t like to kill people,” Parno said. Hernyn looked at Dhulyn and back at Parno. “It’s an Outlander thing,” Parno added, shrugging.
“Advance,” Dhulyn said, pulling the dagger from her boot. “Or we lose the element of surprise.”
Not that they needed it, she thought moments later. They reached the end of the wide hallway just as their quarry rounded the corner. That they did so without either looking first or sending a man ahead was testament to their carelessness. Hernyn spitted the first one on his sword as quick as breathing, and had the sword out and killed the next man while the first body was still slumping to the floor. Parno kicked the feet out from under a tall, thin man who obviously thought he had the reach on everyone, gutting him with his left-hand short sword as the man went down, while blocking another blow with the short sword in his right hand. The fifth man turned to run, and with a call to warn her Brothers, Dhulyn threw the jeweled dagger and caught the runaway squarely under the left shoulder blade as Parno pulled his sword from the fourth man.