They entered a large rotunda, with six tunnels branching off, like spokes on a wheel. Above them, smaller pipes emptied out into the circular area and filthy water splashed down below them. They moved cautiously in single file on the narrow walkway along the wall, for the stones around the deep hole were encrusted with slippery filth. As they passed the second of the larger tunnels, William asked, “Where do these lead?”
“Each leads to a different portion of the city,” said James. He paused and pointed to one of the tunnels on the opposite side of the gallery. “That one over there leads back toward the palace. Some prince, years ago, decided to make the sewers more efficient, I guess. There’s an old cistern up there” – he pointed upward to the darkness - “and it was supposed to release water every night to help flush out the sewers. Don’t know if it ever worked the way it was supposed to, but . . .” He resumed walking. “I don’t know anyone who remembers it being used. Lots of merchants just dig their own tunnels to the sewer when they start up their shops. The royal engineers have maps, but most of them are outdated, useless.” Almost to himself he added, “That would be something worth doing, updating those maps and requiring people to inform the Crown when they make changes.”
They entered the third large tunnel anfl James said, “Be cautious. We’re entering Mocker territory.”
A short time later this tunnel emptied into a smaller circular area, with two more tunnels entering a third of the way up on either side, forming a “Y” intersection. An old man stood near the intersection, holding a long stick that he used to poke at floating debris.
William began to draw his sword slowly, but James reached back and stayed his friend’s hand. “It’s just an old toffsman, named Rat-Tail Jack.”
“Toffsman?” whispered Jazhara.
“He scavenges for items of value. You’d be amazed at what can turn up down here.”
Slowly James walked into view and said, “Good day, Jack.”
The man turned. “Jimmy, as I live and breathe. Been some years.”
Upon closer inspection, the man was of middle age, stoop-shouldered, and slender. His hair was matted and filthy, of indeterminate color. He had a receding chin and large eyes, and they were fixed upon James and his two companions.
“Playing lookout, I see,” James said, flashing a grin.
The man stopped the pretense of poking at the sludge. “You know the trade too well, me old son.”
“What’s up in the wind?”
“Bloody murder and a bunch of lunatic treasure hunters. Been a handful of lads taken to the temples for healing already. Word’s been passed to shut down the Thieves’ Highway.”
Jimmy said, “So I guess that means I’m supposed to turn around and go back.”
“Even you, old son.” The man pointed to the other two tunnels. “Bashers are waiting. You’d best go no further. That’s Mockers territory. The big ‘rats’ down there will have you for supper, they will.”
“Not for old time’s sake?”
“Not even that, Jimmy me lad. You got the death mark lifted, I hear, but you’re still not one of the Dodgy Brotherhood and when the Thieves’ Highway is closed, only Mockers can pass.”
William whispered, “Is there another way?”
James replied, “Too long. We’ll have to try to talk our way past whoever’s ahead.”
“And if that doesn’t work?” asked Jazhara.
James said, “We fight.” He turned back to Jack. “We’re looking for Lucas. Seen or heard anything from him?”
“He’s hiding out, boy, somewhere down here, but I can’t lead you to him.”
“What about Bear?” asked William. “Any word of him?”
“There’s a bad one,” said Jack. “He was down here a few days ago looking for something. Killed a few of the boys. We put the death mark on him.”
“He’s marked by the Crown, as well,” said James.
“Still don’t make the Mockers and Crown friends, old son,” said Jack.
James said, “Who’s in charge over there?”
“Bosun Mace.”
James shook his head. Bosun Mace had been a sailor in the King’s Fleet who had been whipped out of service for thieving. He had joined the Mockers to put his talents to more profitable use. He was a bully, short tempered, and had never liked James when the boy had been a Mocker. He had been one of the few men who had been friends with Laughing Jack, a Basher whom James killed for making a failed attempt on the Prince’s life.
“It’s going to be a nasty fight,” said James to his companions.
Rat-Tail Jack said, “Doesn’t have to be, lad, if you use that fabled wit of yours. There’s always something that can be traded for, old son.”
“Such as?” asked Jazhara.
Jack said, “Go talk to Mace and when he starts to threaten you, ask him who’s been chewing up his lads. That’ll get his attention.”
“Thanks, Jack,” said James. He motioned for his companions to move forward. They took the tunnel to the left and as they did so, Jack let out a shrill whistle.
“What was that?” asked William.