Crypt of the Shadowking (8 page)

A wagon appeared on the dusky avenue, drawn by a pair of dark horses. On it sat two men. One held the reins, the other rested a hand comfortably on the hilt of his short sword. Zhentarim soldiers. The wagon itself was a box-shaped rig, like a gypsy wagon, and Mari knew that within it was a valuable cargo. Mari and Caledan had met with one of Cormik’s countless spies that morning. The woman had told them that a wagon entered the city’s east gate every evening bearing stiff tariffs that Cutter’s men had extracted from caravans that tried to bypass the city on their journey toward Cormyr.

Unfortunately, the information about Cutter’s tax collectors wasn’t the only news Mari and Caledan had learned at the Prince and Pauper. The body of Cormik’s apprentice, Dario, had been discovered that morning on the north highway outside the city.

“I suppose it was brigands,” Cormik had said, his round face haggard. “Gods know the roads are crawling with ruffians these days, what with no guards riding out on patrol. It’s Ravendas’s fault the highways aren’t safe anymore.”

Caledan felt responsible and tried to say something, but Cormik had waved his words away. “No, Caledan,” he said wearily. “It was I who devised the little charade, not you. Besides, the culprit couldn’t be Ravendas. You and I both know that Ravendas would prefer you alive, not dead. No, Dario has always been lucky—until now.”

Despite his grief, Cormik had been ready to help plot this night’s adventure. He was eager to help organize a resistance movement against Lord Ravendas. And for that they needed gold.

As the wagon drew close, Man lifted the hood of her tattered gray cloak and gripped her stout walking stick tightly in one hand. Back bent, she hobbled out onto the avenue, directly in the wagon’s path. The driver swore loudly, pulling back on the reins. The wagon clattered to a stop just short of Man’s shambling form.

“Hey there, old woman!” the driver shouted. “Make way, unless you want to spend the night in Cutter’s dungeon.” Mari just stood there, muttering under her breath as if she were some simpleminded old crone.

“Gods, Brim, get the old witch off the road, will you?” the driver snapped. “Cutter’ll have our heads if we’re late to the countinghouse.”

“All right, all right,” the other Zhentarim said in annoyance, climbing off the wagon. He swaggered toward Mari. “You’re in our way, hag. Be off with you, before we do something to you that you wouldn’t like.” He flashed a lurid grin at his partner, but in the moment his head was turned Mari hefted the gnarled walking stick and swung it in a whistling arc. It struck the Zhent’s jaw with a resounding crack, and the guard sprawled to the ground.

“I guess that will teach you to respect your elders,” Mari said with a grim laugh.

“By all the bloody gods!” the driver shouted in shock. “You’ll pay for that, you crazy old witch!” He stood up, drawing his short sword, but he never had the chance to swing it. A dark form leaped from the overhanging branch of an oak tree, landing nimbly on the roof of the wagon. The driver turned around in surprise—just as Caledan’s boot caught him square in the face, shattering his nose. The Zhent tumbled out of the wagon and rolled into the foul muck of the gutter.

“Care for a ride, old woman?” Caledan asked with a smirk. Mari smiled back. The two took a moment to strip the dead Zhents of their dark leather uniforms.

“You’re enjoying yourself, aren’t you, scoundrel?” Mari hopped up into the wagon as Caledan flicked the reins.

“It never hurts to take pride in your work,” Caledan remarked as the wagon bounced along into the night.

Before guiding the horses onto the steep road that led up the face of the Tor, Caledan halted the wagon. Quickly he and Mari donned the uniforms of the dead Zhents. Then they continued up the Tor, winding through the dim streets of the Old City. Both tensed when a trio of city guards rode by on horseback, but the guards simply saluted and continued on their way.

Caledan brought the wagon to a halt at the base of a tall spire in the shadow of the city lord’s tower. Cormik’s multifarious eyes and ears had learned that this was Cutter’s primary countinghouse. The lion’s share of the money that her guards extorted from Iriaebor’s ships and caravans passed through here on its way to her coffers.

“Are you ready?” Caledan asked Mari as he brought the wagon to a stop in the courtyard.

“Worry about yourself, Caldorien, not me,” she said crisply as she stepped down from the wagon. Caledan merely shrugged, following suit. Mari opened the wagon’s rear door. Inside was a jumble of swords, shields, bolts of cloth, and pieces of ivory, but after a moment Caledan found what he was looking for—a small iron-banded casket filled with coins. He lifted, grunting with effort.

Mari’s heart was beating swiftly in her chest, but she forced herself to walk boldly alongside Caldorien to the tower’s stout wooden door. She rapped on the portal with a black-gloved hand. After a moment the door swung open. A meaty-looking guard glared out unpleasantly at them.

“We’ve got a delivery,” Caledan said.

Mari was surprised at his suddenly brisk military demeanor. It was a convincing act. She nodded, doing her best to imitate Caldorien. “It’s the caravan gold,” she added harshly. “We had a good haul today.”

“Avdis has been waiting for you,” the massive man said gruffly. Then suspicion glittered in his eyes. “Say, I don’t know you, do I?”

Caledan shrugged. “Your loss, friend. Brim got sick tonight, and his partner, too.”

“Sick?”

Caledan nodded grimly. “Plague. But it’s all right. I don’t think he coughed on me. How about you?” he asked, turning to Mari.

“Oh, not more than a couple of times,” she replied flatly. “He was almost dead, after all.”

Swiftly, the massive guard retreated several steps, his meaty hand pressed to his mouth. “Gods, get on with you!” he said, waving them past quickly.

“Thanks, friend,” Caledan said. “We’d hate to keep Avdis waiting.”

He and Mari strode past as the doorkeeper repeatedly made the sign against the evil eye. They reached the floor of a spiral staircase and proceeded upward. They passed several floors where they caught glimpses of city guards gambling, sleeping, or sharpening weapons. Mari and Caledan exchanged concerned looks. The message was clear: getting out might not be as easy as getting in had been. The stairway opened up into a circular chamber.

The chamber was lit all around with bronze oil lamps. Windows faced in all four directions. The ceiling was a high tiled dome. There was little furniture in the room besides a large table and a chair, on which sat a flabby middle-aged man with a pointed ratlike nose and beady ratlike eyes. The man was counting gold coins, muttering to himself as he piled them in neat, precise stacks. He looked like a child hoarding his favorite toys and seemed to be enjoying himself immensely. After long moments, Mari cleared her throat.

“Blast it!” the rat-faced man—apparently Avdis— squealed. “You’ve made me lose my count!” He looked up, but he barely noticed Mari and Caledan. Instead his eyes locked immediately upon the small chest Caledan held. “Well, what are you standing around for?” he snapped impatiently. “Bring that over here. Hurry!”

Caledan did as he was bid. Avdis pulled out a silver key he wore on a chain around his neck and unlocked the chest. He eagerly flipped back the lid, then let out a sigh of delight at the gold and silver within. He reached out with eager fingers to scoop up some of the precious metal, but a black-gloved hand on his wrist stopped him.

“Not so fast, friend,” Caledan said. He smiled nastily. Avdis stared at him in dull confusion, then his eyes widened in comprehending horror.

“Not my gold!” he gasped. Caledan nodded solemnly. The little man drew in a deep breath as if to scream, but when he saw the threatening glimmer of Mari’s knife he stifled the impulse.

Caledan picked up some of the gold and let it tumble though his fingers as Avdis watched, licking his rubbery lips. “You know,” Caledan mused, “gold and silver are so heavy. Why don’t you show us something a bit lighter, Avdis?” Avdis groaned. “Something in jewels, perhaps?”

Within minutes the sacks Mari and Caledan had tucked inside their uniforms were bulging with jewels. It represented at least a half-month’s income for Ravendas, Mari was certain. There had been no need to tie up Avdis. He had slumped to the floor, quivering there as Mari and Caledan riffled through various chests and boxes, relieving them of their valuable contents. Concealing their burdens as best they could, they started down the stairs.

“I hope no one notices we’ve put on a little weight all of a sudden,” Caledan commented wryly.

They were halfway down the staircase when suddenly a small, unnoticed rip in one of Caledan’s sacks opened wider. A single, brilliant emerald slipped out of his jerkin and tumbled down the stairs. The gem bounced brightly down the stairwell and came to rest on a stone step, right at the foot of a Zhentarim warrior who had been walking in their direction.

Mari and Caledan froze. The Zhentarim was a grizzled fellow, an officer of some sort. Slowly he bent down and picked up the shining emerald. He stared at it thoughtfully for a moment, then looked up at Mari and Caledan, baring his yellowed teeth in a grin. The two grinned back weakly.

“Robbers in the tower!” the Zhent shouted. ‘To arms! To arms!” The thunder of booted feet and the ringing of drawn swords echoed up the stairwell. The Zhentarim officer lunged at Caledan, managing to grab his leg out from under him. Caledan fell, trying to kick away the soldier’s tenacious hold. Mari grabbed a torch from an iron sconce on the wall and brought it down hard on the Zhent’s head. He groaned and fell backward, bowling over the first of the guards who had come dashing to the scene.

Mari pulled Caledan to his feet, and the two scrambled back up the stairwell. “Now what?” she shouted.

“I was just about to ask you that,” Caledan returned.

Once again they burst back into the topmost chamber. Avdis, who had just managed to gain his feet, stared at them in renewed horror and then promptly slumped back to the floor. They slammed the chamber’s door shut and slid home the bolt just as the first guards reached the landing. Immediately the door resounded with forceful blows.

“That’s not going to hold them for very long,” Mari said, eyeing the door nervously.

“Then you’d better think of something fast.”

“Me? This was all your idea,” she retorted hotly.

The door shook under additional pounding.

Mari glared at him angrily. “A window, Caldorien,” she said flatly. ‘Try a window.”

Unfortunately, the outside walls of the tower offered only a sheer drop to the ground far below. The only chance lay with the west window, where there was a decidedly crumbly-looking bridge about twenty feet down, spanning the gap from this tower to the next.

“We’ll never make it to the bridge,” Caledan said after peering out the window. “Even if we don’t break our legs, the impact would probably destroy that rickety thing.”

“What’s the alternative?” Mari asked in exasperation.

The door shuddered violently. One more blow and it would fly apart.

“All right, let’s try it,” Caledan snapped.

Mari threw her arms tightly around his neck. The door burst open in a spray of splintering wood, and a dozen guards charged into the room, swords drawn. Gripping Mari tightly, Caledan jumped out of the window. With one hand, he grabbed a handful of the tangled ivy that snaked up the west face of the tower. The tendrils could not support both his and Mari’s weight, and the vines ripped from the wall as the two fell.

They landed hard on the narrow stone bridge that arched between the two towers. Mari felt the stones shift beneath them with the impact, but the derelict old bridge withstood the shock. Though winded and bruised, the two scrambled to their feet. Guards shouted angrily from the window above, but Mari and Caledan dashed across the bridge.

They froze in midstep.

The door in the next tower flew open. A half-dozen guards stood in the opening. Mari and Caledan spun around, only to view a similar obstacle behind them. They were trapped.

Something hissed past Mari’s ear. She looked up to see one of the Zhent officers above, reloading a crossbow. From both directions the guards began to edge their way carefully onto the bridge. Mari felt the stones shudder beneath her.

“This thing is about to collapse,” she whispered to Caledan.

He nodded. “Do you see what I see?” he asked, not daring to point.

She peered down into the moonlit dimness. At first she could see nothing, but then her eyes adjusted, and she nodded jerkily.

“When I give the signal,” Caledan whispered, reaching down and gripping her hand. She squeezed back tightly. She supposed it wouldn’t hurt to be nice to the scoundrel. They were going to die together, after all.

Another crossbow bolt whistled by, this one putting a hole in Caledan’s stolen cloak. The guards drew closer. When perhaps a dozen stood upon the bridge, Mari heard a low groan and felt the bridge lurch beneath her feet.

“Now!” Caledan shouted. Without hesitation they both ran and leaped off the bridge. The guards stared after them in dumb amazement Then the bridge broke apart, and the guards went crashing to the street below along with several tons of bone-crushing rock.

For a moment Mari felt as if she were flying. She heard the noise of the crumbling bridge behind her, but their leap had carried her and Caledan clear. They landed, hand-in-hand, in a cloud of dust and chaff.

“You couldn’t have picked a wagon with clean straw, could you, scoundrel?” Mari said in disgust, spitting out an unpleasant mouthful. Her sore shoulder throbbed painfully. The two quickly slid off the back of the wagon that had been passing under the bridge.

“I wouldn’t complain,” Caledan countered, eyeing the rubble of the stone bridge and the bodies buried beneath it. They started off swiftly through the city’s shadowed streets and were nearly back to the inn before they remembered to argue about whose fault this had all been.

Six

The priceless statuette shattered into a thousand pieces as it struck the dark marble wall of the tower’s topmost chamber.