thing I might be able to do. I have to talk to the king, to convince him that Nayfal has caused him to make a terrible decision. But I need help. You told me about a pailslopper… someone from the palace who heard of the plan to kill my father. I need to talk to her! Can you tell me how to find her?”
“She told me to tell none, but now…” Hiyram shrugged, gestured to their surroundings. “What choice do we have? Yes, I will say her name; she is called Greta Weaver, lives in room on top of Goat Hair Inn.”
“The Goat Hair? I know that place. It’s a soldiers’ tavern, not far from ghetto, on the road to the royal tower,” Konnor said. “I can find the place, once we get out of here.”
“Yes, that Goat Hair tavern. Good luck,” Hiyram said. “You can go from ghetto out pipe.” He gestured to the goblin who had guided them here. “Red-Eye Fobber will take you.”
“And you,” Darann said. “Can’t you get out of here, through the pipes underground?”
Hiyram shrugged again. “Lots of gobs go there, ladies and little ones. We fight here, till they can go. Send many away, but where to away? Get killed in ghetto, get killed in city, or drownded in lake? Find place to be safe- then we go, too.”
“Good luck, my friend,” Darann said, giving him an embrace. He hugged her back, then gestured. “Go, now!”
They started back toward the well they had emerged from, but they had taken only a dozen steps when a phalanx of dwarven guards came around the corner to block their path. The goblins and dwarves both froze for a second, until the sergeant of the Seers raised his axe and shouted a hoarse cry. Immediately, the dwarves charged forward.
“Run! Back there,” Hiyram urged, tugging at Darann’s hand. She hesitated, unwilling to flee in the face of her own countrymen, until Borand took her arm and pulled her along. She looked back, saw several goblins rush forward in attempt to slow up the attackers. A few sharp blows were enough to cut them down. The rest of the goblins turned and fled, carrying Darann and her companions with them.
“Here, another hole up there,” Hiyram said as they approached another intersection. “Run up hill, look in alley at top, on sword-hand side of street.”
“You come, too!” she urged.
“I come, but after you go-so run!”
Sensing that the stubborn goblin meant what he said, she cursed and started to run up a road that climbed the steep hill. Konnor fell in behind her, casting glances back at the pursuit, his sword ready in his hand. “Wait, here-take this!” said the dwarf. She saw that he had found a battered shield somewhere, now extended it toward her. Not sure what to do with it, she nevertheless took the buckler and held it awkwardly in her left hand.
Once more they looked down the street, toward Borand, Aurand, Hiyram, and the other goblins. They saw a wild melee at the intersection behind them, heard smacks of steel on steel and the surprised cursing of wounded dwarves. Somehow the motley group was buying them a little time.
“He said to look for an alley on the sword-side, on the right,” the dwarfmaid gasped, running short of breath. She spotted a dark gap in the row of ramshackle buildings. “That must be it!”
A goblin was in front of her, and she recognized Red-Eye Fobber, their original guide. “Hole in there,” he said. “Go down right away!”
She stopped at the entrance to the alley. A single glance showed her that the fighting down the hill was savage. Her brothers, side by side, were holding a half dozen dwarves at bay, but another big axeman was pressing against Hiyram, swinging his heavy weapon in roundhouse swipes that slashed over the goblin’s head.
“This way!” Darann cried. “Hiyram-over here!”
She despaired as her voice seemed to vanish into the thunderous melee, then took heart as she saw the valiant goblin glance in her direction. He blinked once and turned his attention back to the dwarf, using the slender knife to somehow parry another slashing blow from the heavy axe.
But the power of the dwarf-at-arms was enough to send the goblin tumbling backward, and Darann could only watch as a dozen swordsmen spilled into the intersection, coming from the other direction. They met an equal number of goblins, but this rabble was unarmored, bearing but knives, sticks, and clubs as weapons. With a sharp rush, the disciplined dwarves scattered the goblins, killing four and routing the others back up the narrow, steeply climbing street.
A big goblin with a cleaver, one eye matted with a bloody smear, suddenly rushed from the depths of the alley, charging at Darann. She lifted the shield and grunted as the powerful blow knocked her against the wall. “No- I’m a friend!” she cried, but he didn’t seem to hear or to care. Instead, he raised the cleaver and uttered a growl so piercing that it raised the hairs on the back of her neck. There was nowhere to go, so she used the shield as a weapon, charging against the goblin, pushing him away for a second.
Then Hiyram was there, rapping his fist sharply on the side of the big goblin’s head. “This Lady dwarf, fool! She help gobs outta here!”
The bleeding attacker just scowled, but by then the tide of retreating goblins carried them along, away from the alley and the steep hill. “Gotta find you way outta here,” gasped Hiyram. “Get you going now! This alley, around the corner then you go down hole!”
“Follow me!” Darann shouted, and Hiyram repeated the command. In another moment she was running along, followed by the sounds of broad, flat feet slapping against the bedrock. She raced as fast as she could, darting around the corner, then stopping as, finally, she saw the unguarded manhole cover.
Konnor was there, too, and several goblins came behind, though they initially shied away from the leather- clad Seer. Hiyram followed the dwarfmaid up to the narrow hatch.
“Through there,” he explained breathlessly. “It goes into pipe, will lead you to the city outside ghetto, toward Royal Tower. Best escape for you.”
“We’ll go-but you come after, as soon as you can!” she cried.
“Bull-Hair, go with!” cried Hiyram, clapping the one-eyed warrior who had earlier attacked Darann. “Lead the gobs away from here. I come after the end!”
“You get started,” Borand said. “Auri and I will help hold them up.”
“No!” the dwarfmaid insisted. “You have to come, too!”
“We’ll be right behind,” her brother assured her. He turned to the big goblin. “Take her down there- now!”
Without hesitation the battle-scarred Bull-Hair dove through the hatch. Konnor and Darann started after, down the ladder and into the now-familiar dankness of the drainage sewer.
Her last sight was of Hiyram and her brothers as they gathered a dozen stalwart goblins and headed back down the street, determined to hold up the pursuing Seers.
“Stop them!” shrieked Nayfal, as his restive ferr’ell pranced beneath him. Of course, mounted as he was, he was in the best position to lead the pursuit of the fleeing goblins, but he was too reasonable to do that. Let the foot soldiers risk their lives. His role was here, in the saddle, and in command!
Two companies of dwarves charged forward, pitching in to the goblins who were battling with such unusual ferocity. Nayfal saw several of his men fall back, wounded and bleeding, but was pleased that others quickly stepped in. Axes and swords rose and fell, and he could only imagine-happily-the carnage that was being wrought.
But the number of goblins was shrinking faster than he could explain by death and wounding, and as the dwarves pushed forward, he got a glimpse from his saddle that confirmed his worst fears.
“They’re getting away!” he cried. “Stop them!”
There could be no stopping the escape, however, not when the rear guard fought with such ferocity. It was only when the last of the refugees had vanished that the attackers overwhelmed the goblins, taking several prisoners.
It was then that Nayfal got his next surprise, one that brought a grim smile to his thin lips. For there, among the prisoners, were the two brothers of clan Houseguard. Somehow, fate had delivered them right into his hands.
“C OME on-keep moving!” shouted Bull-Hair, the urgency of his voice amplified by the pitch darkness of the tunnel and the distant sounds of battle fading behind them.
Darann had held up, wanting to wait for her brothers, but Konnor took her arm and spoke to her softly, persuasively. “They’ll meet us at the Goat Hair Inn if they can. Borand knows where it is; we’ve been there together, in happier times. But what they’re doing, staying back there and fighting, that’s for you. Don’t waste it by
