surrounding the mansion. I would never have thought that two sturdy warriors could have been sitting in there.
“You’re late.” That was how Marmot greeted us.
“I should think so. Even a h’san’kor would have trouble finding you!” I said, handing the joyfully squealing ling to his master. “Have you found out who the house belongs to?”
“No. How about you?”
“No,” Eel replied. “Is everything quiet?”
“As a graveyard. At least, no one has left the house through these gates, but about an hour before dawn seven men went in. You’re welcome to use our little lair. It’s good cover, very convenient, and it’s not visible from the road. There’s a perfect view of the gates.”
“Good luck,” taciturn Eel said to the others, and started walking toward the bushes. He slipped in through a narrow gap and the branches immediately hid him from view.
“Come on, Harold. You’ll stick out like a sore thumb hanging around here,” Kli-Kli said.
I followed him in, comforting myself with the thought that until Miralissa found out whose house this was and she and Alistan came up with some way of getting into it, there was nothing for me to do. It made no difference whether I lay around here or sat around at the inn. True, there was no pestiferous Kli-Kli at the inn, but Miralissa
During the night Marmot and Egrassa had created a magnificent shelter. If you looked at the bushes from the road, you couldn’t tell they’d been touched, but inside there was a cozy green lair with trampled branches and grass, quite big enough for two men. Of course, there were four of us, not two, but Kli-Kli was not very big, and I huddled up a bit and we fitted into the observation post quite comfortably.
Lamplighter immediately stretched out on the ground, picked a stalk of grass, put it in his teeth, and started staring through the branches at the clouds drifting across the sky. A fine occupation for a man who wants to fall asleep.
Eel set to work observing the gates leading to the house and Kli-Kli and I were the only ones left suffering from boredom. The fidgety goblin couldn’t sit still for a moment, and the longer we stayed in our hideaway, the more fidgety he got.
The goblin counted the clouds floating past, too, but he soon got fed up with that, and less than five minutes later he started squirming about, kicked me in the side, and crawled over to Eel.
“Nobody?” Kli-Kli hissed curiously.
“No,” the Garrakian replied tersely without taking his eyes off the gates.
“A-a-a-a,” the goblin drawled in disappointment, then kicked me in the side again and went back to counting the clouds, taking no notice of the less than kindly glance I gave him.
Ten minutes later the whole business was repeated. He kicked me in the side, crawled over to Eel, asked his question, got the answer, said “A-a-a-a,” kicked me in the side.
When he started for the third time I couldn’t take any more.
“Kli-Kli, lie down, or I won’t answer for myself!”
“I’m just going over to Eel for a moment.”
A kick in the side.
I flew into a fury and swung my foot to kick him back hard, but somehow he managed to avoid it. He giggled in delight and stuck out his tongue. But I could wait for when he came creeping back!
“Nobody?”
“No.”
“A-a-a-a … Oi!”
Just as Kli-Kli was about to come back to his place Eel pinned him to the ground with one hand, without even looking at him.
“Stay here.”
“Why?”
“You’ve annoyed Harold enough already.”
“But it’s all in fun!” said Kli-Kli.
The warrior didn’t answer him and the jester took mortal offense. He called me a sneak, but he didn’t dare go against Eel, and stayed where he was.
The time dragged out endlessly. Mumr chewed his grass stalk. Kli-Kli fell into a doze, exhausted by doing nothing; my side went numb from lying on the ground, so I turned over onto the other one. But Eel sat, as still as he had been two hours earlier, watching the gates. There was no movement or any signs of life. The gates had to be very well guarded, since a member of one of Ranneng’s militant noble brotherhoods lived there, but we couldn’t see any guards.
Just as the third hour was coming to an end Eel sat up sharply and chuckled.
“At last!”
I started and carefully moved aside a branch to look out. Two guards, evidently from the personal bodyguard of the owner of the house (they had emblems of some kind sewn to their uniforms, but I couldn’t make them out from that distance) were hastily opening the heavy gates.
“What’s happening?” asked Kli-Kli, yawning widely as he woke up from his doze.
“The nest of cockroaches is stirring,” Mumr muttered. “Harold, squeeze up a bit, I can’t see a thing.”
Horsemen came riding out of the gates. One, three, five of them. And Paleface, may the darkness take him!
“Rolio’s with them!” I whispered.
“Where?” Kli-Kli almost tumbled out of the bushes straight onto the road to see the killer I’d told him so much about.
It would have been no laughing matter if the jester had ended up under the hooves of the horses. But Eel was alert: He grabbed Kli-Kli’s leg and pulled him back into the bushes.
“Relax, lad.”
“It was an accident.”
“That’s Paleface. The rider dressed all in black,” I explained. My hands were itching to let the killer have a crossbow bolt, but unfortunately I didn’t have my weapon with me. “Where are they going?”
“Ah, universal darkness! They’ll get away!” Eel exclaimed. “I swear on a dragon, they’ll get away!”
“And what if he has the Key?” I asked, pouring oil on the flames.
The horsemen rode off.
“Mumr, after them, quickly!” Eel ordered.
“But they’ve got horses!”
“And you’ve got legs! They won’t gallop through the city, you can see they’re riding slowly. Try to find out where they’re going.”
“All right,” said Lamplighter, spitting out his grass stalk. “I’ll try.”
“We have to let Markauz and Miralissa know,” said Eel, standing up and emerging from the bushes. “We still have a chance of intercepting them at the city gates.”
“There are a lot of gates,” Kli-Kli said doubtfully. “We’d better hurry.”
But we never got to the inn. Or rather, we weren’t allowed to. As soon as we reached the street we had walked up a few hours earlier, two men blocked our way. They were dressed in the modest clothes of craftsmen, with sullen faces and cold eyes. The lads looked very confident, and they had very good reason to be—each of them was holding a naked sword.
“It looks as though we were spotted at the manor after all,” I muttered, taking my dagger out of its sheath.
A dagger against a sword is like a crossbow against a ballista. I couldn’t speak for Eel, but I knew they would carve me into little pieces without the slightest trouble.
“Look behind us!” Kli-Kli squeaked.
