The Howling Delve - Jaleigh Johnson [47]
"We're thieves," the leader said.
"What could you hope to steal from a cave?"
"The Delve is much more than a cave. You should have known that, before you entered. Cast the spell."
She lay back and closed her eyes. "I don't know it."
"Very well. I offered you your life."
"Done, Aazen." The halfling tossed the leader the other end of the rope. He looped it twice around his waist and tied off the end.
Meisha watched him hand a waterskin off to the halfling, who uncorked it and squirted a thick, pastelike substance into his small hand. The skin went around to each member of the group until it was empty, then the halfling tossed the containet carelessly toward the chasm. It fell short, landing next to Meisha, but no one paid her any further attention. They were busy coating their hands and boots with the substance. The halfling trotted on the balls of his feet toward the cavetn wall. He jumped, his arms outstretched, latching onto the walls like an insect. He scrambled up and across the ceiling, disappearing into the mouth of the shaft. The test followed in the same way.
The leader came last, climbing slower than the rest and towing the chest behind him on the rope. When he'd ascended to the edge of the pottal, the woman braced him as he hauled the chest up. Meisha got her first clear look at it as it passed in and out of the green light. As she'd suspected, the chest was Varan's. What had they done to him?
With the chest secured, one by one the thieves disappeated up into the portal. When the last had gone, the green light faded.
Meisha rolled onto het side, crawling to the closest tunnel. She knew she would never make it out of the chamber, but anything was bettet than listening to her lifeblood drip down the walls of the chasm.
They'd nicknamed him "Dirty Bones," and for good reason. Talal wriggled out from the pile of waste and garbage that had collected at the mouth of the refuse room. He sniffed. Dirty, yes. He didn't mind dirt. But he was starving, too. That concerned him. He'd gladly be called "Fat Bones," but there just wasn't enough food.
"Not my fault. Can't eat garbage." He surveyed the room.
"Plenty of that, but can you live on it?" No. Unquestionably. He'd already tried. His tongue curled at the memory.
Too much thinking, he decided. Time to scavenge. The raiding party had come and gone. He'd counted to make sure there were no stragglers, just as Gadi had warned him. Then came the green light, then silence. It was the same every time.
Talal moved quickly, pulling a mound of wax that only vaguely resembled a candle from behind one of the rocks. He held it out, duck walking along the winding tunnel to the pottal room.
Gadi had taught him each step in the process. He paused to listen before entering the room. When he peeked to see what lay within, he let out a whoop of delight. The sound echoed in the vast chamber. Talal clamped a filthy hand to his mouth, his eyes darting over the tops of his fingers. When nothing stirred, he rose to his full five-foot height and practically skipped over to the bodies.
There were two of them-two thieves dead. Warmth rose in Dirty Bones. "Two less to worry about. They'll be thrilled." He would hurry, so he could return and tell them.
"Messy," he mutteted as he knelt next to the body of a young woman. Not a tidy kill-like Gadi, he thought-and shoved away all pity for the pretty-faced lass. He went for her boots fitst, feeling inside for pouches or hidden vials. He drew back with a hiss and raised a bloody finger to his mouth. Cautiously, he tried again, and pulled a pair of daggers from each boot. The lass bristled with them.
He worked