Dash froze. He was alone in the dark looking for traps, and he was daydreaming about a woman. He scolded himself and heard his grandfather’s voice in his mind. The old man would have had a great deal to say about this sort of inattention.
Dash took a deep breath and began moving again. After a few minutes he heard a sound ahead. It was little more than a whisper, but Dash waited. It came again, and with effort he made out what appeared to be a low conversation.
He inched forward again. Suddenly he halted. Ahead of him he sensed something. He put his hand out and felt a line. He didn’t move when his palm came into contact with it. He waited, listening for an alarm, a sound, a voice, anything that would tell him he had alerted whoever had placed this line across the duct. When silence continued unbroken for a long while, he moved his hand back, waiting again.
He touched it again, as gently as possible, and ran his finger to the right. He encountered a metal eye, driven into the side of the duct, and there the line was tied. He moved his finger to the left and found another eyelet, but this time the line was threaded through and ran forward in the direction he was heading.
He felt over and under the line to make sure there wasn’t a second, and when he was satisfied this was the only line across the way, he moved back. With a little squirming, he got on his back and crawled under the line. When he was past the line, he again got up into his kneeling position and continued his careful progress.
Soon he saw a dim light ahead and he worked toward it. Again he heard voices and again the conversation was just below his ability to hear it. He moved slowly forward.
He reached a large catch basin, with a big grating overhead, and above him he could hear boots on the stone. From the stench at this end of the pipe, it was obvious the men had been using the catch basin to relieve themselves and didn’t have enough water to flush the pipe easily.
“What is that?” came a voice from above and Dash froze.
“It’s a baked meat roll. It’s got spices and onions, baked into a bread crust. I got it at the market.”
“What kind of meat?”
Dash moved closer.
“Beef! What do you think?”
“Looks like horse to me.”
“How could you tell by looking at it?”
“You better let me taste it. Then I can tell.”
Dash moved around and craned his neck. He could see movement, and a pair of boots. Much of his view was cut off by a chair, near the catch basin grate, and the man who sat on it.
“Cow, horse, what does it matter?”
“You just want some because you didn’t bring anything to eat.”
“I didn’t know we’d be spending our lives waiting here.”
“Maybe the others ran into some trouble?”
“Could be, but orders are clear enough. Wait here.”
“Did you at least bring some cards?”
Dash settled in.
Near dawn, Dash lowered himself out of the large pipe at Five Points. He found himself disappointed that Trina wasn’t waiting. He knew she probably left a moment after he entered the pipe, but he still wished she had lingered.
He found that feeling irrational alongside the distress he was experiencing over what he had found.
Not wishing to stay too long, he hurried through the pipes and back toward the New Market Jail. He knew that as soon as he got there, he was going to have to change clothing, then hurry to the palace. This wasn’t a matter for the Sheriff and his constables, but Brian Silden and the army.
Dash forced himself to calmness, but if what he had overheard was any indication, someone was readying a staging area. Inside the city itself, a nest of soldiers was being prepared, soldiers who would appear within the walls of Krondor at some future date, and Dash was certain that date was not far off.
Twenty-One - Masteries
The door opened.
Nakor entered, shaking his head as he said, “No, no, no. This won’t do.”
Rupert Avery looked up from the plans unrolled before him. He was standing on the newly refinished floor of what had once been Barret’s Coffee House, watching workers repair the walls and roof above. “What won’t do, Nakor?” he asked.
Nakor looked up, surprised at being addressed. “What? What won’t do?”
Roo laughed. “You were the one muttering that something wouldn’t do!”
“Was I?” asked Nakor, looking surprised. “How odd.”
Roo shook his head in amusement. “You, odd? Perish the thought.”
Nakor said, “Never mind. I need something.”
“What?” asked Roo.
“I need to get a message to someone.”
“Who?”
“Pug.”
Roo motioned Nakor away from the workers and said, “I think you need to start at the beginning.”
“I had a dream last night,” said Nakor. “I don’t have many of them, so when I do, I try to pay attention.”
“All right,” said Roo. “I’m with you so far.”
Nakor grinned. “I don’t think so. But that’s all right. There’s something going on. There are three pieces here, all seemingly separate, but they’re all the same thing. And they all look to be about one thing, but they’re about another. And after the odd thing that happened, I need to talk to Pug.”