Nightblade: A Book of Underrealm (The Nightblade Epic 1) Page 15

  “But I’ve done nothing to her,” said Annis. “Why would she seek to harm me?”

  Gem looked uneasily around him. “Understand, Auntie is always seeking ways to improve our station. Anything that may gain a few more coins for the children, or a week’s leniency from the constables. But when Auntie does not get her way . . . she angers swiftly.”

  Loren thought she saw him shudder.

  Annis clutched at Loren’s arm, her terrified eyes sunken and hollow. “We must leave this cursed place, quickly! We are beset on all sides, Loren, and buried under the earth besides. I cannot take this dark coffin a moment longer. I cannot—”

  Annis broke off, breathing so heavily that the air wheezed in her throat. The girl’s legs buckled and pitched her to the stone, nearly throwing her into the stream of sewage. Loren grabbed her at the last moment and propped her up against the wall.

  “Annis!” she cried. “What is it? What is wrong?”

  “Hold,” said Gem, pushing Loren aside. He grasped the back of the girl’s neck and thrust her head toward the ground.

  “What are you doing?” said Loren, trying to push him away.

  Gem held her off with an outstretched arm and gave Loren a look of such calm certainty that she felt herself paralyzed. The boy hooked a hand under Annis’s knees, drawing them up to hold on either side of her head. He forced her head still farther down, and as he held her there Loren heard the girl’s breath ease into a gentler rhythm. She slumped back against the wall, shaking, tears in her eyes but finally calm.

  “Some children get the terrors when they first come to Auntie,” explained Gem. “This is how we help them. I learned it early on. They say I could have been a medica, you know.”

  “They say you could have been many things,” said Loren wryly. “But thank you.” She scooted forward on her knees, placing a soothing hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Annis? Are you well enough to go on?”

  Annis looked up at her, blinking freshly wet eyes. “I do not want to. I want to leave this place.”

  Gem grunted. “As well you should. We must move quickly, for I fear Auntie’s children may soon draw near, if they have not already. They are never as plentiful in the sewer as they are upon rooftops, but neither are these passages unknown.”

  Together, they helped Annis on her feet, and now Loren kept a steady hand on the younger girl’s back, ready to support her. Gem pressed their pace hard, and before long he paused beneath another hole cut into the street. Loren knew not why this drainage differed from any other they had passed, but Gem pointed up with certainty.

  Loren boosted him up first, for he was lightest. Once he peered around and waved them up, she seized Annis around her thighs, lifting her up and stretching as high as she could. Loren felt a moment’s strange gratitude to her father—whatever else he had given her in the way of bruises and beatings, she also owed him her height.

  Gem seized Annis’s wrists and dragged her up into the moonslight. With a small hop, Loren gripped the edges of the drainage, and a moment later found herself under stars once again.

  She could see nothing familiar. Gem set off down the alleyway, and Loren quickly followed. Annis’s shoulders still shook under Loren’s hand, but the girl’s relief at leaving the catacombs was almost palpable.

  “The Elf’s Purse lies only a few more buildings away,” said Gem. “Soon, we’ll be safe and—”

  He stopped short, leaping back to push them all against the wall. “Curse everything,” he snapped. “The place is watched.”

  “Watched?” said Loren. “By whom?”

  “Auntie’s children,” said Gem, his voice low and ominous. “See for yourself.”

  Loren peeked around the corner, looking down the alley toward the inn’s back door. “I see nothing,” she whispered.

  “Look at the roofs,” said Gem. “And watch for the glinting of eyes in shadow.”

  Loren looked again. There. Atop the roof of the building facing the Purse, she saw the small mound of a child’s head. And in one corner where lurked a beggar, head hanging in his hands, she caught the flash of moonslight on two orbs—the large eyes of a child.

  She ducked back out of sight. “How? How could they know of Xain? And what would they want with him, in any case?”

  “I do not think they seek the wizard,” said Gem. “I believe they seek us. Some within the tavern spied us. One must have passed word to Auntie, and she sent her children to watch. She will never attack in plain sight but will wait for us to leave and murder in shadows.”

  “How will we find our way back inside?” said Loren. “We must warn Xain. He is our only chance of leaving the city.”

  “If they watch the back door, the front will be doubly guarded. That leaves only a window.” Gem pointed up.

  Loren looked. In the second and third stories were windows like the one in Xain’s room. It seemed an easy climb, but she glanced at Annis beside her.

  Annis looked back at her, uncomprehending. “What?”

  “How are you as a climber?”

  Annis glanced up at the window, and her eyes widened in shock. She looked back at Loren. “Surely, you jest.”

  Loren sighed. “Wait here, then. Gem, you stay with her.”

  “What will you do?” said the boy.

  “Leave that to me.”

  The inn had rough walls, with many chunks of plaster torn free through the years. Not too high up, plaster gave way to great wooden cross spars. Loren found a place where she could climb a few yards down the building’s length. She looked up and down the alley but saw only beggars lying oblivious.

  Hand over foot, she scaled the wall until her fingers found the lip of a wooden beam. But just as she began to pull herself up, plaster gave way beneath her right toe. Loren nearly pitched into the street, saving herself by the tips of her fingers, wincing as many splinters dug into her flesh.

  “Be careful!” Gem said.

  “Be silent,” Loren growled. She tried again and this time managed to wrap her hands around a windowsill. Cautiously, she poked an eye above the ledge to look within the room.

  She ducked down immediately, crimson rushing to her cheeks. The man and woman in that room would not take kindly to intrusion. Struggling to shove the image from her mind, she sidled along the side of the building toward the next room. A wide gap of wall stretched to the next window, nearly five feet in length. Again thankful for her height, Loren stretched until she could grab the sill with her fingertips and sidle below the window.

  This room lay empty. Loren tried prying her fingers into the frame to pull the window open. Efforts failed her, and she reinforced her grip on the windowsill while studying the glass.

  There. A lock at the top of the window held it shut. Loren dug for her dagger and drew it. Metal glinted strangely in the moonslight, throwing rays of blue into her eyes. She stared in wonder a moment before coming to her senses. Slowly she slid into a half crouch. With one swift movement, Loren brought the pommel stone crashing against a single pane. Glass tinkled to the floor, too loud for her comfort. She snaked a hand in, careful not to shred her skin on the shards, and tripped the latch.

  The bottom of the window swung outward and struck her hip. She nearly pitched out into empty space, but her hands lashed out and clung to the sill. Loren yanked herself to the building, clutching its side as she fought to catch her breath and still her racing heart.

  Gem whispered harshly from below. “Are you all right?”

  Loren looked down, nodded, and placed a finger to her lips. She slid into the room and went quickly to the bed. A blanket and sheet lay upon it, with another blanket folded on a table at the foot. Loren tied them into a line, thrice testing knots to ensure their strength.

  She returned to the window and threw her impromptu rope into the darkness. She tied her end around one of the bed’s legs and leaned out into the darkness.

  “All right,” she whispered. “Come up, Annis.”

  Annis placed one hand on the blanket, and
then another. She pulled, trying to climb, but her arms trembled and she slumped back to her feet. “I am not a climber!”

  Loren sighed. She had feared this. “All right, then. Do your best to hold on, will you?”

  Loren braced her feet against the wall and wrapped both hands firmly around the blanket. Checking her grip again, she pulled as hard as she could. Hand over hand, she tugged, and the blanket slid up the wall as if time itself had been stalled. A tense forever passed before pink hands finally appeared at the windowsill. Loren leaned out, hauled Annis in over the window frame, and watched her collapse, shaking on the floor.

  Before Loren could throw the rope of blankets back down, Gem scrambled up and into the room. He landed lightly on the balls of his feet, glancing down at Annis with disdain.

  “See?” he said. “Not so hard, is it?”

  Annis glared up at Gem but said nothing.

  twenty-five

  Loren coiled the blanket and sheets upon the floor. She saw no use in trying to hide them; she could not repair the glass, and in any case they must leave the inn immediately. She led her companions to the hallway and found the door to Xain’s room. Three quick raps she gave at the door, and there came a scuffle of boots within.

  “Who is it?”

  “Not the constables, certainly,” whispered Loren.

  The door cracked open. “Keep your jests muted. Would you alert all the kingdom that we hide from the law?”

  She pushed the door open farther and stole inside, reaching up to peel away her rags. “No time for that now. The inn is guarded.” Loren turned and ushered Gem and Annis into the room.

  Xain’s eyes fell upon Annis, and Loren saw an eyebrow raise. “This is your . . . cousin, is it?”

  “Yes, this is she,” said Loren. “Well removed, of course. On my mother’s side.”

  “What kind of fool do you think I—” Xain stopped and leaned in closer, studying Annis’s face. His eyes shot wide, straightening his stance as he fell a step back. “Stars curse us all! What madness is this?”

  Loren raised her hands, trying to calm him. “She flees her mother, and if she is caught—”

  “No!” snapped Xain. Then, seeming to remember that he was, in fact, in hiding, the wizard glanced at the door and lowered his voice. “I should never have taken you into my care, but this would be the utmost folly. If you think I will smuggle a child of the family Yerrin, you take me for a madman who seeks only my demise.”

  “Please,” said Loren. “We don’t have time for this. I told you the inn is watched.”

  “I doubt it,” said Xain. “Why would the constables place guard? They would come, and their visit would not be pleasant.”

  “Not the constables. The weremage. Or rather her minions.” Loren thought fast, and words spilled from her lips. “She has guards watch the place to ensure you do not leave. All while she fetches the constable to drag you from here by force.”

  She saw Gem’s hard look behind Xain. The boy knew that for false. But the wizard remained their best chance for escape, and she could not afford to lose it.

  Xain paled in light of his room’s single candle. “How did they find me? I took care to hide myself when I took to the streets.”

  “Auntie has eyes in all places,” said Gem, stepping in to support Loren’s story. “One must have seen you.”

  “And we must leave, quickly, before they can do aught about it,” said Loren. “But how, if the doors are guarded?”

  “There is a way. The reason I chose this inn. Come, follow me.” Xain gave Annis one last despairing look and shook his head.

  After Loren collected her cloak from under Xain’s bed, he led them back down the staircase. This time, they did not draw so much as a passing glance from any in the common room. Loren carefully studied them as she passed. One of these, she knew, had betrayed them to Auntie. She would give much to know who. But no eyes met hers, and she abandoned the search as Xain led them into another of the inn’s back rooms.

  There stood a fat man with a wide, grease-stained apron. Loren took him for the innkeeper; he had the look, a portly good-natured face and clean-shaven chin. The man glanced up with surprise as they stormed into the room, his eyes roving across the children before resting on Xain.

  “Good evening, Xain,” said the innkeeper. “Looking for a meal?”

  “Not at this hour, Bartin,” said Xain, “though I thank you for your kind offer. I must leave your hospitality, quite a bit sooner than I had intended.”

  Bartin’s eyes hardened, and he nodded. “I see. My thanks for doing what you may to keep your troubles from my door. Not good for business, that sort of thing. I will leave you to it, then.”

  The innkeeper pulled down a sack of meal from a shelf and left the room. When the door clicked shut, Xain went to a panel set in the floor. He wrapped his hands around an iron handle and pulled up to reveal a stone staircase descending into darkness. An evil scent wafted up from below.

  “No!” wailed Annis, backing away quickly. “Not again, I won’t! Please, there must be another way.”

  Xain looked at her, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “There is no other way. This is how we escape, or not at all. You see now the only reason I frequent the Elf’s Purse. It is not for Bartin’s ale, bless him. Now come, for we must put as much distance between ourselves and this place as we can before the constables arrive.”

  Loren went to Annis’s side and put an arm around her shoulders. “I am still here,” she said, keeping her voice warm. “I will not leave your side, just as I did not the last time. Come, Annis. It is this, or turn yourself back over to your mother.”

  Annis swallowed, her throat muscles constricting. “Please, Loren,” she said, her voice pleading. “There must be another way. Let us escape through a window again, the way we came in.”

  “Enough of this,” snapped Xain. “I am off. You may come, or not, as you will.”

  The wizard descended the steps and vanished into the blackness. Loren heard him murmur, and with a sharp crackle, blue light bloomed in his palm. He turned to her at the bottom of the steps, his eyes glowing white.

  “What say you? I will not wait.”

  Loren put one firm hand on Annis’s shoulder, the other on her arm. It reminded her of Bern’s grip as he shoved her through the city. “Come now, Annis,” she said quietly. “One step at a time.”

  Annis placed one foot on the top stair. Then another, and another. Foot by foot, she descended into the sewer beside Loren. Once their heads were both below the floor, Gem stole in behind them, waiting only a moment to shut the trap door behind them. In a moment, they had gathered around Xain, who still stood bathed in his own magefire blue.

  “Very well,” said Xain. “I have another hiding place prepared. Follow quickly and quietly.”

  “Aye, and keep a careful eye,” said Gem. “Auntie’s children are no strangers down here.”

  The wizard nodded and set off, the others trailing in his wake. Loren held a careful eye on Annis, who mostly kept her own eyes closed. The girl breathed heavily, though not with the panic that had nearly crippled her earlier.

  Xain paused at the first bend and turned back to them. “The passageway twists and turns most intricately. Do not lose sight of my magefire, and watch where you step. There are pits in the floor at times, the bottom of which you cannot see. Do not fall. If you lose yourself in the darkness, I cannot help you.”

  “And you think you can help them now?” came a familiar, haughty voice.

  Xain’s gaze snapped forward. He growled and, with a gesture, sent his blue magefire floating forward into the gloom until it came upon a figure in the darkness: Auntie.

  She had abandoned her tunic for a leather jerkin with loops of leather showing many gleaming knives. She held two blades, one per hand, odd weapons the likes of which Loren had never seen. Their handles wrapped her fingers with small steel triangles gleaming in the dark. Her pants, too, were tighter and less fancy, meant for fighting, climbing, and s
lipping through the dead of night to open a throat.

  Loren saw something else: Auntie had brought more than the urchins she had seen at the pigsty. Before and beside her stood a small group of young men, ranging between Loren’s age and Auntie’s. All stood tall and corded with muscle; each held a weapon. Loren saw cudgels, sharpened sticks to serve as spears, and even one with a sword broken nearly in half, its edge still sharp. Around these boys, Auntie’s familiar crowd of children lurked at the edge of shadow, wide eyes gleaming in the magelight.

  “I thought little Jarmo might bring you down here,” said Auntie, her voice a cool drawl. “Dear young Jarmo. How could you do this to your poor, sweet Auntie? The purse you have kept from my hands would have fed so many children.”

  Gem quaked beside Loren without reply.

  “But now I see you may have repaid your debt and brought double,” Auntie continued, looking to where Annis quivered under Loren’s hands. “That is the merchant’s daughter, unless I miss my guess. We will be well paid for her return. And if not . . . ah, well, there are many places in this city for little girls to disappear.”

  Annis wailed. Loren squared her shoulders. “Leave us be! We have done nothing to you.”

  Auntie smiled, her features growing cruel. Her face in the blue light, turning to something monstrous. “Of course not, you little witch. But I do this not for you, and certainly not for the farce they in this city call the King’s justice. It is for the children.” She splayed her hands wide within the hilts of her strange blades, indicating the dozens of urchins around them. “My children, with such wide mouths and empty bellies. All I do is for them.”

  From the gaggle of goslings came a low murmur:

  Mother, Mother, Mother.

  Xain stepped forward, whispering words to summon another sphere of magefire in his left hand. He curled his right, and the ball of blue before Auntie swelled in size.