Shadows of Doom - Ed Greenwood [122]
Then Zalarth of the Zhentarim stepped forward in the darkness and went to war.
* * * * *
"I think I know where he might be, or might have
gone, at least," Itharr said suddenly as they stared wildly
around at empty battlements. "Well?" one of the dalemen demanded. "Speak!" "Where we caught up to him earlier," Itharr said, turning to Belkram, "and he called us nursemaids. Remember?"
Belkram nodded. "You think he's down there? At the cesspool?"
Itharr shrugged. "He was after something there, amid the stink, and we interrupted him. He'll have gone back to it when he thought everyone was too drunk or to asleep to see him."
'Treasure?" Belkram asked, raising a puzzled eyebrow.
"No," Itharr said very quietly. "Another gate, if I'm not mistaken."
Belkram stared at him and swallowed. Then they were both sprinting through dark, empty passages, seeking stairs that led down and taking turns cursing and panting for breath.
The men of the dale thundered after them. "The only folk crazier than these Harpers," one grunted, rounding a stair post at breakneck speed in the darkness, "is wizards."
"Thank the gods for that," said the man behind him. "If they weren't, we'd still be kissing Longspear's feet – and another part of that Stormcloak's body, too."
They'd bounded down another flight of stairs before the first daleman replied dryly, "I'd wondered what you were about, those long evenings."
He was answered in turn by a ruder suggestion. Then they were nearing the cellars, and Gedaern hissed them to silence.
* * * * *
Xanther waited and waited, but there came no further sound. He'd heard the wizard-one of Manshoon's killers, if his memory held right-muttering, and then the faint scrape of a boot on stone. Then, only silence.
Xanther carefully emptied one scroll tube into his lap and felt about until his fingers closed on the cold hardness of the gem. He knew what it must be, given the three words written on the inside of the scroll tube's cap that he'd read earlier, and closed his eyes as he spoke the first of those words.
The prism-shaped gem gave forth a cone of pale light. Good; he'd chosen the right word. By its light, he saw that the cesspool and its surroundings were empty of all people.
Hmm. "Between the two bumps," the wizard had said, and intimated that passage between them was critical to avoid falling into the cesspool. Xanther put away the tube's contents again, except for the handy gem, and got up. Two bumps, on the edge of the cesspool…
There was a sudden sound behind him. A muffled thud-no, a flurry of such sounds. The thudding of booted feet coming quickly down stone steps and along the echoing passage. Dalefolk!
Xanther hurried toward the stinking pool, eyes searching frantically. Ah-there! Two bumps!
He eyed the reeking pool and sighed. He'd have preferred time to make sure of the route before stepping out over that.
The sounds grew louder, and he heard the unmistakable voice of one of the men in leathers who'd fought Stormcloak in the great hall.
Xanther sighed again, and stepped out from the edge. The light in the cavern abruptly went out.
* * * * *
"A light!"
"Where?"
"Gone now, sir, but there was light here a moment ago, I tell thee!"
"Throw your torch forward," Belkram ordered. "Those with bows to the fore, but no one advances until I give word."
He and Itharr looked each other over quickly. "Got a dagger or two, besides your blade?"
Itharr nodded. "As usual." He grinned as he added, "I think it's your turn to go first."
"My thanks," Belkram told him in dry tones and darted forward, keeping low. He crouched near the guttering torch, peering around intently, then beckoned them with a wave.
What could be seen of the dark, foul-smelling cavern was empty. In the center of the cracked, uneven stone floor was the cesspool, its surface still. Itharr waved the men with torches toward the far reaches of the place, to light up every niche and corner.
He and Belkram exchanged glances and nodded. "A gate, without doubt. We have to enter it in exactly the right way, or we'll never