Crown of Fire - Ed Greenwood [124]
Mirt blinked sewer water from his eyes, thanked the two Harpers gravely, and then heaved himself like an angry whale up out of the water and through the hatch. Grunting, he caught hold of the lowest rung of an old, massive iron ladder. "This must have been used as a well, long ago, " his voice echoed back to them.
"No wonder they all died of fevers back then," Oclae-rone said disgustedly to Belarla.
"No doubt folk an age from now will wonder at all the barbaric things we do, too" Belarla replied.
"Going through the sewers ranks right up there," Oelaerone agreed, as they boosted Shandril up the ladder, "Hmmm," Belarla responded, "'rank' is the right word, yes"
After a short, unpleasant climb, the three ladies found themselves facing a closed door in a small, round room crowded with old buckets, Mirt's arrival had evidently awakened some magic here: a faint, yellow-white glow was emanating from the door and growing steadily brighter.
Mirt rapped on the glowing door with his fist, snatched his hand back, and shook his fingers to clear away the tingling pain, "Strong wards," he commented, eyeing it and wondering if he'd have to knock again.
A breath or two later, the center of the door began to glow brightly, and then something swam out of that radiance, spun together, thickened like rising smoke, and suddenly coalesced into a floating, glowing eye, The orb regarded them all, bobbing slightly as it turned, Mirt held up his Harper pendant in front of it.
The eye blinked, peered at it for a moment, and then drew back to look around at them all again. Then it abruptly swooped back to the door, vanishing into the radiance once more.
Almost immediately, they heard bars fall and chains rattle, and then the door grated open. A young lady in a dark court dress with full skirts, a low bodice, and high shoulders stood looking at them, A wand was held ready in her hand, and her eyes were dark with fear. "Who are you, and why have you come here?" she asked.
Mirt was dripping sewage only a pace away from her.
He bent in a low bow and said gravely, "It grieves us deeply to trouble you at this hour and in this manner, great lady, but we are in desperate straits, and beg immediate audience with thy lady master."
The apprentice stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then stifled a sudden giggle. "Lady!" she called over her shoulder, and a moment later, another face appeared.
It belonged to a tall, very beautiful lady with huge dark green eyes and glossy black hair.
"Ladies," Mirt said to Shandril and the Harpers, as he went to one knee, "may I present to youMyrintara of the Masks."
Those beautiful eyes looked at the bedraggled old merchant and blinked in sudden recognition. She groaned, Not you again!"
Mirt grinned wolfishly and replied, "Just get us out of here,"
"To do so speedily will be my distinct pleasure," Myrintara replied. ushering the filthy foursome up narrow stone steps. Her apprentice, eyes still wide with wonder, stood at the far end of the cellar they emerged into and held a lamp to light their way, As they ascended from the cellar to the floor above, a richly decorated dwelling opened around them. A floor higher up, Shandril amended that first judgment to 'palatial.' She tried not to look back at the interesting trail they were leaving in their wake, all over the carpets.
You're sure you don't want to bathe?" Myrintara asked as she ushered them up another broad, gilded flight of stairs.
Mirt shook his head. "Not unless you feel like fighting off all the Zhentarim in the citadel."
Myrintara leaned her head to one side as if considering his suggestion rather longingly, and then shook her head with regret. "We'd never get the place cleaned up again before business hours."
On the upper landing, several men were cleaning and polishing the marble and carved, gilded railings.
They broke off their work to stare at the four filthy guests.
Shandril's