The door opened from outside and three men in armor stepped into the pub. The red crescent moon of the city guard shone on the white tips of their belts and the hilts of their swords. Malthooz watched as one of the men showed the paper he was holding to the man tending the counter. The guard said something to the man and he paused for a moment, then nodded at the companions' table.
Lidda reached under the table toward her leg as the guards made their way across the room. The few other patrons in the bar moved aside to let the men pass. Krusk caught the rogue's movement in the corner of his eye and spun around.
"You're being placed under arrest for the murder of Horace Wotherwill," the guard said, laying the document on the table in front of them.
Pressed into a patch of red wax in the bottom corner of the parchment was the official seal of the mayor of the city.
"Found in a gutter this morning," he said. "Not that it would come as any surprise to you. We've got more than enough witnesses."
"Impossible," Krusk bellowed, slamming his fist on the table and rising from his chair. "We haven't left this inn since yesterday."
The barbarian reached across his body and grabbed the dagger that was strapped to his forearm.
"Don't try anything stu-"
The man's words were cut short when Krusk toppled the table and bowled into him. Plates and mugs sailed through the air, and the barbarian jumped on the man. Krusk's dagger thrust toward the guard's neck, but the man knocked it away with his sword. The shorter blade flew from the barbarian's hand just before the two of them tumbled across the floor.
The rest of the company was on their feet instantly. Other guards with weapons drawn stepped up to threaten Mialee and Vadania, should either of them begin casting a spell. Neither of the women were armed. Ringed by blades, they put up their hands and stood quietly.
As the guards' attention turned to the brawl on the floor, Malthooz lunged from his chair and shot right between the guards and the two women, headed for the front door. He heard the innkeeper shouting as he leaped over the upturned table. The half-orc reached for his club but it wasn't at his side. Three more guards charged into the room, blocking the front entrance. Krusk and the guard officer were rolling across the floor, rabidly pummeling and choking one another. More guards piled onto the fray, trying to separate the two wrestlers, straining to release Krusk's hold on the guard's throat.
With his exit blocked, Malthooz hesitated, but only for a moment. A small hand grasped his robe and pulled him with surprising strength toward the stairs.
"Follow me out of this death trap," he heard Lidda say. "All we can do is save ourselves."
Malthooz looked back at his helpless companions, but he stumbled along in the halfling's wake.
They sprinted up the staircase and across the open hallway. Malthooz paused before the door to his room, intending to retrieve his pack, but the rogue shoved him hard from behind. He glimpsed Krusk's axe resting under the bed in the corner as the doorway to the room slid past.
"There's no way we could escape with all of it," the rogue blurted as they made their way to the window at the end of the passage.
He saw a bulge in the pocket of her cloak, however, and knew that she at least had her share of the gold.
The sound of booted feet pounded up the staircase behind them. Malthooz patted the symbol around his neck and touched the pouch of gold in his own tunic. That would have to do, he thought. Lidda threw open the window and jumped into a crouch on the sill, then disappeared over the edge.
Malthooz, far larger than the nimble halfling, thrust his head and shoulders through the opening and looked down into the narrow alleyway that ran behind the inn. With his stomach churning and the guards charging up the hallway, he dragged the rest of his body over the sill. The ground rushed up fast, but he managed to twist so his legs were mostly beneath him, and he landed on a heap of old straw from the stables. Lidda was crouched in a shadow nearby. As soon as Malthooz touched the ground, she turned and dashed up the alley. Malthooz struggled to his feet and raced after her, chased only by curses from the window of the inn.
Iron cuffs bit into Krusk's flesh. He growled at the jailer who pushed him along the dank hallway lined with iron-barred cells. Mialee and Vadania marched a few paces ahead. Each of the women was gagged to keep them from using magic. Krusk bit down on the rag stuffing his own mouth. It was there simply to keep him from talking.
"I've heard enough of your abuse," the jailer said as Krusk gnashed his teeth against the gag.
The stench of decay filled the area. Body odor, mold, and smoke from burning torches assailed the barbarian's nostrils as he walked along the row of cells. Most of them were occupied.
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.
15
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?