Curse of the Shadowmage - Mark Anthony [12]
"Your turn, Mari," Caledan said graciously.
"Why, thank you." She dodged a wild swing of the dockhand's sword, then whirled inside the circle of his arms. "Care to dance?" she asked demurely. She grabbed the wrist of his sword arm and gave it an expert twist. Bones snapped audibly. The dockhand howled in pain as the short sword clattered to the floor. She spun him around in a dizzy circle, then let go. The dockhand careened backward against a wall covered with dusty fishing trophies. He stared down in dull wonder at the serrated snout of a swordfish protruding from his chest, then had the sense to realize he was dead. His eyes rolled up in their sockets as he slumped on the end of the fish's sharp proboscis.
Mari turned around in time to see the bony, hooknosed man who stood behind the bar reach down and pull something out of a hidden recess. With a quick move, the man threw the object in Caledan's direction. Metal glinted dully. Caledan lifted a black-gloved hand, snatching the thing in midflight.
"I don't recall ordering this, barkeep," Caledan said good-naturedly. "Mind if I return it?"
With a flick of his wrist, he sent the object hurtling back toward the barkeep. A second later, the bony man took a step backward, clutching feebly at the knife embedded in his throat before collapsing over the filthy surface of the bar.
Hands on her hips, Mari gazed at the rest of the tavern's occupants. "All right, who's next?" she asked sweetly. "No pushing, please. I promise, each of you will be killed as promptly as possible."
There was a second of silence. Then came a scraping of chairs and a clattering of boots as the remaining customers departed hastily out the tavern's door. In moments Mari and Caledan were alone save for three rapidly cooling corpses.
"I have to admit, you certainly know how to clear a room." Caledan commented.
Mari shrugged. "It's a talent. Now let's get moving. This isn't over yet."
Caledan nodded, following her through a dim archway into the back room. After a few minutes searching, they spotted the corner of a trapdoor, hastily hidden beneath a stack of old ale casks. The two pushed the casks aside and crouched down to examine the iron door. It was locked.
Caledan looked up at her. "Can you…?"
Mari cut him off. "With my eyes closed." She began rummaging in a leather pouch.
"I think we're beyond the stage where you need to show off to impress me," Caledan noted acidly. "With your eyes open will do just fine."
"As you wish." Mari slipped a pair of thin wires-one bent, one straight-into the trapdoor lock. Carefully, she began probing, constructing a mental image of the lock's interior. The mechanism was of good but not exceptional construction. Four minutes was all she would need, five at most. Her brow furrowed in concentration.
It was then that the screams began. The sounds echoed up from beneath the trapdoor, muffled shrieks of terror and agony. Mari and Caledan stared at each other. More screams drifted upward. Something in them made Mari's blood run cold.
"I won't tell you your business," Caledan said hoarsely, "but you just might want to hurry it a bit."
She nodded silently, bent over her task. After what seemed hours, the lock sprang open. Caledan pulled up the trapdoor. Silence. The screams had ended. All the two could see was a square of perfect blackness.
Mari swallowed hard. "You know, I got to enter the tavern first. I think you should lead the way here. It's only fair."
"How thoughtful of you." Caledan gripped the edges of the trapdoor and lowered himself through, disappearing into darkness. A moment later he whispered, "There's a ladder."
Taking a deep breath, Mari followed. In