stomach and edged forward an inch at a time, propelling her small body with toes and hands. Now her head was over the opening. Still, she could see nothing. Growing impatient, she also grew daring and leaned down, securing herself with her hands.
Something moved, and then two points of red light glittered up at her.
Startled, Allika gasped and flailed, trying to move back away from whatever was down there. One hand knocked into Miss Lally, and the little rag doll tumbled down, head over heels, to land with a soft plop in the sludgy water.
'Miss Lally!' cried Allika, heedless of the noise. She suddenly had a vision, of soft hands and a kind voice; a remembrance of a brand new Miss Lally, white and clean and unstained: You must take good care of her, site's your baby.
'Miss Lally,' said Allika again, her voice a whimper now. Tears filled her eyes, dropped down twenty feet into the filthy water beneath. Miss Lally was made of light material; Allika had no trouble seeing her.
Again a movement, a flash of two red lights.
Allika sobbed brokenly. What was she going to do? Miss Lally was twenty feet below the surface, down there with that… whatever it was that Raven and Hound and Wolf had put there. But Allika couldn't just leave her. Miss Lally was her baby; she had to take good care of her.
She wiped her eyes with a dirty hand, forcing them to clear. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Allika whispered bravely, 'I'm coming, Miss Lally.'
The shaft that led down to the sewers was about three feet wide. Allika pulled off her ragged boots and swung her body around so that she would be descending feet first. Small, strong toes groped for crevices, protrusions, anything to ease her passage downward. Allika forced herself not to think of the thing down there in the dirt and dark, but only of Miss Lally. Slowly, she lowered herself, her small, soft mouth pursed in a grim line of concentration. The rocks were not smooth, and she was able to find purchase.
She was hanging by her hands now, and it took a great effort to move them down to the holds that had secured her feet. By leaning back, Allika was able to wedge herself in more securely and inch her way down.
She had already gone several feet. The rock was unforgiving and tore her already ragged clothing, left bruises and scrapes on her soft, pale skin. Allika paid it no attention. The main thing was getting down to Miss Lally, and finding her, and getting back to the docks where she could get out without running into that thing that was down there and The slippery walls turned traitor. Allika's feet shot out and she fell. There wasn't even time to scream before she landed, on her back, in six inches of filthy water and at least two soft, squishy inches of waste matter. The wind was knocked out of her and she gasped like a fish, splashing. Her shoulders and tailbone hurt, and as she flopped herself over and tried to stumble to her feet, her ankle shrieked in white-hot protest and she fell.
But Miss Lally was right there, smiling up at her with her faded, painted face. Allika's breath came back and she sobbed with joy as she seized her beloved toy, now soaked with filthy water. She sat in the sludgy water, clasping the doll tightly, completely oblivious to everything save her dear, sweet Miss Lally.
'I will take good care of you,' she whispered fiercely.
Something moved in the dark, inches away. Memory returned and Allika's small body went taut. The thing. It was still down here. It was down here with her in the darkness.
Again, she tried to rise. Her ankle wasn't broken, but it was twisted badly. Clutching the saturated toy, she managed to make it to her feet. Every instinct was crying out, telling her to run, but she couldn't run. Instead, she found a weapon-a length of nail-studded wood from the crate used to house the thing.
'Where are you?' she called, sounding as brave as she could. 'You're not gonna hurt me or Miss Lally.'
A soft splash came behind her. She whirled unsteadily, and yelped, horrified.
It sat in the square of light that came from the street above, barely a yard away from the little girl. The thing was a rat-enormous, as bit as a cat, bigger, and pitch black, save for its eyes, which burned in the dark like two hot coals. It was sitting up on its haunches, regarding her evenly. As she stared back, one ear twitched.
Then, with no warning and no sound, it sprang, leaping for the soft flesh of her face. Allika stumbled backward, swinging the nail-studded slat with all of her wiry, seven-year-old strength. It caught the rat in the side, and the creature squeaked in agony and rage. It came again, and this time managed to sink sharp yellow teeth into Allika's upper arm. She screamed and lashed out, slamming the wood on its head. The blow, though not as strong as an adult's, ought to have been enough to crush the thing's skull, but the rat darted away. As it vanished into the darkness, Allika saw something painted in white on its back.
It was two lines, one long, one shorter. The shorter line bisected the longer line about three quarters of the way down its length. The symbol was somehow familiar to Allika, but at the moment, in her pain and terror, she couldn't place it. For a moment she stood, panting, clutching the wooden slat like a club, her ears straining for a telltale splash that indicated the thing had returned to renew its attack. She heard nothing.
'Think we chased it away?' she asked Miss Lally.
'We sure did!' she said in a higher voice, speaking for the doll. 'You're wonderful, Allika! I knew you'd come save me.'
Turning, the little girl took a deep breath. She was almost a half a mile away from the port; a half mile from the nearest place where she could scramble out of the sewers as they opened into the sea. Low tide would be coming soon. If she didn't make it, she'd be trapped.
'Come on, Miss Lally. Let's go find Fox.'
CHAPTER TWELVE
Unkind thoughts breed like rats in the darkness; but good thoughts grow like the oldest of trees.
Tap, tap, tap. Deveren tossed in his sleep. Kastara wanted him to get up for some reason, but the bed linens were so warm and comfortable…
Tap, tap. More insistent now. 'Love, what is it?'
And with the sound of his own voice, soft and sleepy, he came fully awake and realized that it was not Kastara tapping on his shoulder, trying to rouse him; would never be Kastara, not ever again, and even as the grief resettled upon his heart he was fully alert.
Tap, tap, tap!
Something was rattling on the glass panes of his solar window with a regularity that put the thief leader instantly on his guard. This was no random clatter of tree limbs in the wind, and the memory of his attempted murder flashed starkly in his mind.
Moving in silence, Deveren pushed aside the curtains that shrouded his bed and glanced about. There was no one in the room with him. He reached for the knife he kept beneath the bed and swung his legs out onto the floor. His feet sank into the thick sheepskin.
Tap, tap, rattle.
That was it. Someone was outside, throwing stones up against the window, trying to get his attention. While this deduction brought some relief, Deveren did not drop his guard. It could yet be a decoy. Quickly tugging on a pair of breeches, Deveren moved toward the window and cautiously peered out.
Allika stood on the ground beneath, her ubiquitous doll clutched in one hand. She was in the process of gathering more stones, and Deveren saw that one little hand was clenched around a rock that was significantly larger than the pebbles she had tossed up hitherto. The child was clearly growing impatient.
She pulled her hand back as if to toss the stone when she saw his face. Her own was a pale blur in the moonlight, but when Deveren waved, signaling that he had noticed her, she waved back. Quickly she disappeared into the shadows, moving toward the library, where she would not be seen.
Deveren lit a lamp from the fire that had burned to embers in the bedroom. He quickly shrugged into a fur robe, stepped into slippers, and rapidly descended the stone stairs. As he hurried past the dining room, he paused
