"What of the others?" Malthooz asked.
"Flint's made arrangements for a jail break," Lidda said, "and for our safe passage from the city. It's not ideal, but we have few other options."
It didn't sound good to the half-orc, but the rogue was right. Leaving the city would be like an admission of guilt, but he had no desire to stay longer in Newcoast anyway. What other choice did he have? He was tired of letting the situation and his own helplessness make his decisions for him.
"Here," said Kargle, handing him a small weapon. "We might not need them, but you never know."
Malthooz looked at the instrument in his hand. It consisted of a stout handle that was affixed to a hard ball of leather. A thin cord, about as long as the span of a hand, separated the two. The cable was flexible, but only slightly so.
"It's a blackjack," Kargle said. "Hit someone on the back of the head and you're almost guaranteed to knock him cold. It's not usually fatal, but you don't want to put all of your strength into it."
Kargle emphasized the last line by striking the small leather weapon against his open hand.
Malthooz palmed the thing and asked, "So what do we do?"
Kargle ran them briefly through the plan. It sounded easy enough to the half-orc, providing that Flint's contacts came through on their end. Something about the way that Kargle spoke still bothered Malthooz, but he was not able to place his finger on it, and at this point he was in a poor position to do anything but follow the man's lead anyway. They started moving.
The night air was cold and crisp as the three made their way through the town. There was not a cloud in the sky, and the stars were visible seemingly by the thousands. Malthooz wished fervently that none of this had ever happened and that he was at home, lying on his back in a field, enjoying the view of the firmament. His friends would be safe and he'd never have laid eyes on the damned staff. He stepped past Lidda and under the light of the street lamp, following Kargle as they started for the jailhouse. Lidda fell in behind him.
The jail was one of a cluster of official buildings near the center of the city. It was an impressive structure. It wasn't nearly as tall as the city hall, but it looked like it was built to withstand a siege. Malthooz read the inscriptions on the marble buildings as they moved past them, wondering exactly what a Temple of Justice was.
"There is no one around," he said, glancing down the wide street.
"Most city business is done during daylight hours," Kargle explained. "And Eva has seen to it that the city guard is not going to bother us."
They came to the broad staircase that ran up to the twin doors at the front of the building.
"Remember," Kargle said over his shoulder as they approached the steps, "only three guards will be on duty inside, and the jailer is not to be harmed."
Malthooz felt a knot forming in the pit of his stomach. It was not just nerves again. If Flint could keep the guards from the streets, she could just as easily have been the one who sent the guards after their group in the first place. His head started swimming as the puzzle that he had constructed in his mind shattered and all of the pieces he'd carefully laid in place flew apart. Suddenly he knew where he had seen the doorman before.
Things were moving much too fast for Malthooz's liking. He felt a desperate need to sit quietly somewhere and think.
Was Lidda in on this, too? Or was she as clueless about the guild's connection to the murder as he had been? He wondered if Kargle had seen the look of recognition cross his face. He cursed the man, wishing that he could get just a moment alone with Lidda. It mattered little if Kargle was aware of what he knew. If they were heading into a trap, the doorman could care less either way. Malthooz had to find a chance to speak with Lidda, to try and discover if she was in on the plot. He had to know whether she had sold them out for a greater share of the gold or a position within the guild. He felt sick. Not more than a few hours ago, he trusted the woman with his life.
"We are going to have to work fast," Kargle said as they neared the door. "By the time we enter the building, the door to the cell should already be open."
He looked at both of them to make sure they were listening before going on.
"The guards are generally in a room just to the right of the entry hall. Farther down that hallway and beyond the main room are the stairs that lead down to the cells."
Kargle rapped the blackjack on his hand.
"If one of the guards escapes and alerts others, we're sunk. I will lead you all to the stables on the south edge of the city when we're done. You will be given mounts and seen past the city wall. At that point you are on your own."
"It'll be just like at the gnoll camp, only easier," Lidda said, elbowing Malthooz in the ribs.
He grabbed her arm as Kargle stepped through the outer doorway.
"Trap," he mouthed to her as he turned to follow the doorman in.
He didn't want to risk turning around to see if the rogue saw his warning. He wasn't sure whether he was more afraid of what lay ahead or the look that he might see on her face.
17
If Malthooz had turned to look, he would have seen the rogue struggling to contain her emotions. Had she understood him correctly? If it had been Krusk, she would have expected the warning as a matter of course. Even though Malthooz shared the barbarian's skepticism, he'd always been one for measured judgement. Certainly he tended to err on the side of timidity as far as danger went, but this was a serious charge. Lidda wasn't eager to lose what remained of her grasp on the guild, but was as that all it was? Could she really have been so foolish? It didn't matter now if it was. Her chances of working for the thieves guild again were getting slimmer by the minute, at least in Newcoast.
She tried to reason her way through it. What interest would Flint have in getting them out of the way? Wotherwill's murder could be blamed on them whether they were alive or dead, present or absent. So why have them killed?
If Kargle read the concern on her face, he didn't show it.
"The guards will be in a room to the right not far past this door," he said, looking back at Malthooz as they approached a second set of doors. "The rogue and I will knock them out and you can cover the door to make sure no one else comes in or leaves."
He reached into a pocket in the chest of his armor and pulled out a lock pick. Even in her agitated state, Lidda had to marvel at the man's skill. With years of practice and experience, she still did not posses the easy flair with which Kargle undid the lock. He inserted the tool and with a quick flick of his wrist, the mechanism snapped open.
For that matter, Lidda thought, watching Kargle drop the pick into his armor and reach for the handle, why didn't Flint just go right for the staff herself? And where did the gnolls fit into it all?
Kargle moved down the short hallway. He stopped outside the door of the guardroom. Lidda crept up to his side, fingering the blackjack. She glanced back at Malthooz standing near the door and saw the worry in his eyes. If he was right, then getting Kargle out of the way now might be the best thing she could do.
It certainly wasn't beyond the guild master to double-cross anyone. If the price was right, it was probably Flint's preferred method. She could profit triple-fold. There would be the wizard's money when he paid for the artifact's passage, more of it when she brokered the wizard's hiring of the adventurers, and the final payoff of keeping the staff for herself.
Lidda felt Kargle's eyes on her. A grin slid across his lips as he tapped the end of the blackjack against the side of his leg and started toward the guardroom.
If the Deepwood didn't do them in, Flint's gnoll should have, but that was where Flint made her error. She didn't count on the group's success. Lidda shrugged. It was now or never, as she saw it.