Elminster's Daughter - Ed Greenwood [21]
"Hah! Another rat scurrying back to the bolt-hole!"
More than a dozen men were crowded around the stair-head, conferring-and two of them already had blades almost into her.
Narnra spun aside rather than slowing. "Caladnei's orders!" she snapped, trying for her Waterdhavian matriarch's voice. "Out of my way!"
"Armeld?" one of the men moving smoothly to bar her path called, over his shoulder.
"She was talking with the Mage Royal. Let her past, and go with her-just you two. See where she goes, what she does." Armeld turned back to the men who'd been reporting to him, and as she hurried down the stairs with her unwelcome escort hard on her heels, their voices resumed. "Dozens of nasty little stabbings and drownings-scores settled, I'd judge-a lot of sex and drunkenness, the usual cliques…"
"Any more wizards now that Lightning-Dolt's dead?"
"There should be, but…"
Someone cursed in the darkness below-lamps were noticeably fewer, now-and the rushing Narnra was out of earshot of the stair-head by the time those oaths-and the skirl of steel and choked-off groan that swiftly followed-had died away.
"-got clean away!" someone said suddenly, almost in Narnra's ear, as she skidded around a corner and raced toward the next flight of descending steps. "Ho!"
"Stop her!" another voice snapped. There was a heavy crash as someone stepped into the path of the two Harpers racing after her. Men bounced and rolled down the steps in a heavily thudding, cursing, and ultimately groaning bundle in her wake. Narnra dared not look to see what had befallen, but as she turned at the next landing she got a momentary glimpse of what looked like the lamplit silhouette of a man leaping over tumbling bodies on the stairs to keep after her.
She slipped in something sticky-probably blood-and almost went into a tumble herself. Slamming into the wall instead with force enough to drive away her breath, she skidded painfully along it to a gasping halt and felt for the stone rail she could not see. All was in darkness, here, though she could see the glimmer of torches bobbing somewhere far below.
"Well," a man's voice came nastily out of the nearby darkness just below her, "if they got aboard that skiff, they're at the bottom of one of Marsember's fabled fetid canals right now. That was the one-"
"Hold!" another man snapped. "I thought that was a corpse rolling down the stairs, but someone's panting-and so, yet lives."
"Touch left," the first voice muttered, and-as she crouched low, mastering her balance for a desperate spring-Narnra heard stealthy movements.
Light flared, below her: a soft blue magical glow arising from the pommel of a dagger held out over the center of the steps at full arm's-length by someone in dark leathers who was crowded against the wall to Narnra's left. Someone else was crouched right ahead of her against the right wall.
"A lass!" the one on the left said, sounding startled.
"In a mask" the other responded, in tones that made it sound like mask-wearing was the most dire crime possible in Cormyr.
"We're on the same side," Narnra snapped, sounding very much like an irritated Waterdhavian noble matriarch. "I was hurrying down here on Caladnei's orders when I slipped on these damned stairs."
"Why the mask?"
"My face is no longer very attractive, sir," she said, making her voice sound bitter. "One price of my loyal service."
"Oh. I see. Ah… sorry. Have you no lamp?"
"None, nor permission to use it. My orders are otherwise."
"Armeld, that'd be," the other man said disgustedly. "Always fancies himself battle-lord riding into doom-glory." He moved aside. "Pass, lady-but use the rail; it runs right through the next landing, at least. Damned luxurious warehouses these Marsemban nobles built themselves, I must say. Makes you wonder what sort of goods they stored here, eh?"
"Yes, it does. My thanks, sirs," the Silken Shadow replied cautiously and hastened past, using the rail.
* * * * *
"No,