“Come on, Kevin!”
Well, if she could fit ...
The bardling hurried in after her, trying not to let his lute bang against a wall. How weird! None of the houses in this area seemed to meet exactly, and as a result there was a whole little maze of not-quite alleys back here. He hoped the woman knew where she was going, because if she didn’t, they were going to wind up good and lost—
Lydia stopped so suddenly Kevin nearly crashed into her. She held up a hand, listening. “Damn!”
“They’re still after us.”
“Right. They don’t usually follow anyone in here. Must be an election year.” The woman shrugged. “We’ll have to try something else.’’
She started off again. Kevin, who had just barely caught his breath, groaned and followed. They suddenly came out into a wider way, the back alley of a street of shops. The bardling noticed the rickety piles of storage crates and barrels and thought in sudden inspiration, What if ...?
“Lydia, wait!”
He pointed. She stared, then grinned in comprehension. “You’re catching on fast, kid!”
As the guards charged out into the alley, they yelled to see their prey standing as if winded, leaning helplessly against a wail. “There they are! Take them!”
But the boy kicked at a crate and the woman at a barrel, and a whole avalanche of crates and barrels came thundering down, nearly burying the guards and totally blocking the alley.
“That does it!” Lydia crowed. “Let’s get out of here before they can dig themselves out.”
The small, open square might have been grand at one rime, but Westerin had grown out and away from it long years back. Now it was a shabby little place, cobblestones cracked and broken where they hadn’t been stolen outright. In the center of the square stood a fountain so chipped and worn Kevin guessed water hadn’t flowed in it since Westerin had been founded.
Its rim made a fine place for two fugitives to sit and catch their breach. “No sign of the guards,” Lydia said after a time, “Guess they finally lost us.”
“What do you suppose happened to Tich’ki?”
Lydia shrugged. “She can take care of herself. No one’s going to find a fairy who doesn’t want to be found!” She glanced at Kevin. “That idea with the barrels was pretty clever. How’d you think of it?’’
“I didn’t,” the bardling confessed. “I remembered it from an adventure ballad.”
“Ha! Looks like music’s good for something more than just pretty notes!”
Oh no, he wasn’t going to fall into her trap. Biting back his indignant reply, Kevin asked instead, “Where are we, Lydia?”
The woman glanced about. “Pretty much where we want to be. In the..—shall we say ... less elegant section of town. The section that every city has, where the guards don’t go too often and never alone, and where no one asks too many questions.” At his raised eyebrow, the woman added jauntily, “Just trying to talk like a proper Bard!”
I will not let her bait me! “ In other words, we’re in the slums.”
“Exactly. Just the spot for a few carefully placed bribes.”
“Here?”
“Of course here. You don’t find the weasels and rats we need in palaces!”
“What’s to keep those rats from calling the guards?”
Lydia laughed. “The kind of folks we’re going to meet are hardly going to be on the best of terms with guards. They’re not going to call ‘em down on us.”
“Sure. Just like that city official wouldn’t.” “Huh! This adventure’s turning you too cynical, kid! Come on, let’s go rat-hunting.”
