Then he paused. Would he really be able to find his way back? The sewers were said to be as much of a maze as the streets above them, with more twists and turns than a nest of coiled snakes. By the time he found Naulg-assuming he did-Naulg could very well be dead.
Then there was the prospect of facing the pockmarked people again. Plague had always terrified Arvin; he didn’t want to expose himself to it in what was likely to be a lost cause. And really, Arvin didn’t owe Naulg anything. When Naulg had escaped from the orphanage, he hadn’t come back for Arvin. He hadn’t even sent word. Instead, he’d forgotten Arvin-until fate threw them together a second time. If it had been Naulg who had escaped, Arvin wouldn’t have counted on the rogue to rescue him; he’d have expected to be on his own.
Just as he had been in the orphanage.
Except for that brief time when Naulg had befriended him.
But those screams… Could Arvin really turn his back on Naulg and not expect to hear them echoing in his memory for the rest of his life?
Arvin had to rescue Naulg. That was who he was. Foolish and loyal, just like his mother.
He just hoped he didn’t wind up dead, as she had, because of it.
He started to guide the rowboat back up the tunnel, but after moving it only a short distance, he noticed something. The gap between the gunwales and the brickwork above was getting smaller. The tide was rising, backing up the water in the sewage tunnel. It would be only a matter of moments now before the gunwales were touching the ceiling. Then the boat would fill with water and sink.
That was it, then. The tide had decided for him. In a few moments this tunnel would be flooded and there would be no way for Arvin to make it back to the chamber where Naulg was-not until low tide, by which time it would probably be too late, anyway.
Arvin wasn’t going to be able to find that chamber again…
Unless, of course, the pockmarked people returned to the Coil for more victims. And there was a slim chance that they might, since at least two of the victims-Naulg and the woman who had implored Arvin to cut her bonds- had been plucked from there. With luck, they’d assume Arvin was dead. If he could spot one of them at the Coil, he might be able to follow him back to the chamber.
The ceiling grated against the gunwales, shutting out the harbor lights like a coffin lid closing. The water in the tunnel was nearly at ceiling height now and streaming into the boat. Time to get out of here.
Arvin rocked to his right, deliberately swamping the boat, and grabbed for one of the bars as he was spilled into cold, stinking water. The bars were spaced far enough apart that he might just squeeze through them, especially with sewage lubricating his skin. Clinging to the bar to keep his head above the rapidly rising water, he jammed his shoulder through the gap between two bars. By turning his head and exhaling, he was just able to squeeze through.
He climbed the brickwork of the seawall, levered himself up over the edge, and stood up, looking around to get his bearings. Then he set out, dripping stink in puddles around his feet, in the direction of the Mortal Coil.
CHAPTER 2
23 Kythorn, Darkmorning
As Arvin walked along the seawall toward the Mortal Coil, suspiciously eyeing everyone who passed under the streetlights, four sailors staggered toward him. He stepped to one side, intending to allow the group to pass, but as they drew nearer, one of them took a long, bleary look at Arvin then loudly guffawed. His two companions all turned to see what the joke was; an instant later they sniffed and pinched their noses. They began shouting drunken oaths at Arvin, telling him to haul his stink downwind.
Arvin felt his cheeks grow hot and red. Suddenly he was a boy again, enduring the taunts of the other children in the orphanage as they made fun of the punishment he’d been subjected to-the touch of a wand that had made his skin stink worse than a ghoul’s. The punishment was a favorite one of the priests and had been inspired by the martyrdom of one of Ilmater’s innumerable, interminably suffering saints. Arvin had tried to scrub the magical stink off, scraping his skin raw with a pumice stone and standing under the tap until he was shivering and wrinkled, but still it had persisted, filling his nose with a sharp reek, even lingering on his tongue until he wanted to gag. Even shaving his hair off hadn’t helped-the other kids had only incorporated his shaved head into their taunts, pointing at the stubble and calling him “rotten egg.”
A dribble of filthy water trickled down Arvin’s temple. He flicked his wet hair back and felt the dribble transfer to the back of his neck. At least, this time, the smell would wash off.
And he was no longer a cringing child.
Grabbing the largest sailor by the shirtfront with his bare hand, Arvin summoned his dagger into his glove and jammed the blade up the man’s nostril. As the point pierced flesh, a trickle of red dribbled out of the nostril onto the man’s upper lip. “Shall I cut your nose off, then?” Arvin said through gritted teeth. “Would that alleviate the smell? Or would you and your friends prefer to take your insults somewhere else?”
The man’s eyes widened. He started to shake his head then thought better of it. “Easy mate,” he gasped. “We’ll ship off.”
Arvin stepped back, removing his dagger. The sailors staggered away, the bloody-nosed one muttering curses under his breath.
Arvin stood for a moment in silence, watching other late-night revelers stagger along the seawall, wondering if any might be hiding pockmarks under a cloak of magic. The taunts of the sailors had made him realize one thing, at least. The only way he was going to locate any of the pockmarked people was by using his nose to pick out their sour, sick odor. Enfolded in sewer stink, he didn’t have a hope of doing that.
Sighing, he strode away to find a bathhouse.
A short time later, Arvin felt human again. The bathhouse-a circular stone chamber where patrons basked lazily in hot, swirling steam while slaves soaped and scrubbed them-had been worth the delay. Arvin-scrubbed pink and smelling of good, clean soap-and dressed in a fresh change of clothes felt ready to face any challenge.
Even a descent back into the sewers to find Naulg.
He returned to his only starting point: the Mortal Coil. It was still some time before dawn, and business at the Coil was slow, most of the sailors having staggered back to their ships to sleep off their revels. No more than a dozen patrons sat at tables. One of them Arvin recognized immediately: the yuan-ti woman with red hair who had been drinking there last night.
The woman, who had changed into a dress made from a shimmering green fabric a few shades lighter than her scales, looked up as Arvin entered the tavern. He didn’t think she’d recognize him from yesterday evening-he’d gotten his hair cut short at the bathhouse. Even had his hair still been shoulder length, odds were she wouldn’t remember seeing him. Arvin’s average build and pleasant, “anyman” face gave him a natural talent for disappearing into a crowd. It was a godsend in his line of work-though with it came the annoyance of people frequently mistaking him for someone else.
The woman was still staring at him. Arvin crossed the first two fingers of his right hand while holding it discreetly at his side.
The woman made no response. Instead, she turned away.
A thought occurred to Arvin. Last night, the woman had seemed to be searching the crowd for someone. Had she, too, lost a friend to a pockmarked abductor? Was that why she’d returned to the Coil? If so, she might be willing to join in the search for Naulg. At the very least, she might have noticed something that Arvin had missed.
Arvin crossed to her table and bowed deeply, waiting for her to bid him rise. When she did, he gave her his most winning smile and indicated the empty chair opposite her. “May I join you?” A familiar prickling sensation tickled the base of his scalp-a feeling that always boded well in this sort of situation. She would invite him to sit down. He was certain of it.
The yuan-ti tilted her head as if listening to something-another good sign-but didn’t speak. For a moment, Arvin was worried she’d dismiss him out of hand-yuan-ti were prone to doing that, with humans. But then she nodded and gestured for him to sit. A faint smile twitched her lips, as if she’d just found something amusing. Then it disappeared.
