“Shadow magic, mostly,” Jack answered. “I have no objection to your professional interest and I’ll be happy to let you have a look, but the disposition of the book is not negotiable; I keep it. Well, at least until I am ready to turn it in for the reward.”
Halamar took a draw on his pipe. “If it’s really full of nothing but shadow magic, then it’s not of much interest to me. As good Tharzon observed, most of my magic is in fire.”
“Now for the terms,” Jack said. “It’s my job, so I claim half the reward. The rest you can split four ways-” Tharzon cleared his throat, so Jack amended his split-“er, five ways, because Tharzon of course is owed a share as expediter. That makes five hundred crowns for each of you. And I’ve got good reason to think there’s more to find down there. Whatever else we find besides the Sarkonagael, we’ll divide into six equal shares, one for each of us and one for Tharzon. Is that agreeable to all?”
“It seems a little optimistic to divide loot we don’t have yet,” Narm muttered.
“In my experience, leaving these things to the last leads to hard words and hurt feelings. Better to set reasonable expectations right at the start, I believe.”
“Full shares for survivors and kin if one of us doesn’t come back?” Arlith asked. She gave Jack a small smile. “In
“Fair enough,” Jack decided. He had no intention of engaging in any such dealings, but it was good to know that she didn’t, either, and that sort of understanding might serve as a check on anyone who did harbor such designs.
The halfling nodded. “Then I agree to the terms.”
“I agree,” Narm said. “And I,” Halamar added.
“Agreed,” said Kurzen. The younger dwarf looked around at the company, then back to Jack. “Have you got everything you need?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Jack answered. “Where’s the nearest entrance to Sarbreen?”
Kurzen pointed at a doorway behind the bar. “Right here.”
“That seems a little dangerous, keeping a door to a monster-filled dungeon in your place of business,” Jack remarked.
Kurzen motioned for the small band to follow him, and then led the way into the Smoke Wyrm’s storeroom. Dozens of kegs of ale lined the walls; there were no other exits. Jack was just about to speak again when Kurzen grasped a stack of kegs and pulled it clear of the wall. Instead of toppling over, the whole stack slid together on hidden rollers, revealing a very sturdy-looking door of iron plate secured by heavy bars and padlocks. The dwarf undid the mechanisms one by one, until he pushed the door open, revealing a dark corridor. Water gurgled in the darkness beyond, and a strong whiff of dank air filled the room. “Not the dungeon,” the dwarf barkeep replied. “The city sewers. It’s handy to have a way to get in and out of the Smoke Wyrm without being seen, after all. We’ll find passageways leading down to Sarbreen proper just a little ways in.”
“Charming,” Jack muttered. “A stroll in the sewers to begin the day. Well, lead on.”
Kurzen simply turned right and set off at once. Halamar whispered a word of magic, and a dim golden light began to shine from his staff, illuminating the tunnel. A dry walkway ran along the right-hand side of the sewer, which now ran fast and relatively clear with the runoff from the morning’s rain. Jack glanced once behind him; Tharzon gave him a nod, then pulled the hidden door closed. It blended perfectly with the brickwork of the tunnel. The company marched perhaps two blocks under the city streets until they came to a doorway off the sewer. Several steps up led to a dry chamber of strikingly different stonework. On the opposite wall, a wide, shallow staircase descended into darkness beneath an archway flanked by the carven images of two dwarf smiths.
“This was one of the old guardrooms of Sarbreen,” Kurzen explained. “The stair was one of the city’s main entrances.”
“Wouldn’t the sewer flood it?” Arlith asked.
Kurzen snorted. “My forefathers knew what they were about. You’re standing on the roof of Sarbreen; of course it’s designed to shed water away from the living spaces below. When the humans came along later and laid out their city above old Sarbreen, they used these channels as their city’s sewer system.”
The dwarf barkeep advanced to the archway and peered down the stairs beyond for a moment, then gave the rest of the party a nod and started down. The passage was wide enough for four people to walk abreast, its walls decorated with long, continuous friezes showing scenes of dwarves engaged in all sorts of trades and work. They went on for the better part of a hundred yards until they finally emerged in a wide hall marked by towering columns. A great fountain stood in the center of the hall, but its waters were black and stagnant. Rubble, debris, and dust littered the floor.
“The market hall,” Kurzen said softly. “Here surface traders brought their goods to trade with the City of the Hammer. From this point on, stay on your guard. We might meet anything down here.”
Kurzen turned to the right again and started to lead the party toward another passage mouth in the wall of the great pillared hall, but at that moment Jack became aware of a sudden soft, flapping rush of footsteps from the shadows by the fountain.
“Behind us!” he shouted as he whirled to meet the threat.
A ragged line of squat, scaly lizard-like creatures charged toward the explorers, armed with spiked clubs and heavy javelins. Several of the creatures paused to throw their darts; the missiles hissed through the air, clattering on the stone floor. Jack ducked under one; another struck Kurzen as he was turning, only to rebound from the dwarf’s large shield.
“Troglodytes!” Arlith shouted. She raised a crossbow and fired off a bolt that took one of the monsters in the throat; the creature stumbled to its knees and clutched at its neck.
Then Jack smelled the creatures for the first time, and very nearly threw up at the first whiff of them. They
Narm drew his greatsword and charged forward to meet the oncoming troglodytes. Kurzen let out a dwarven war-cry and followed a step behind him, brandishing a heavy warhammer. The half-orc and the dwarf collided with the charging savages in a furious ringing of steel and iron, stemming their rush like twin battlements. The troglodytes fought in eerie silence, making not a sound other than faint hisses when they were wounded. More of the creatures veered around Narm and Kurzen, seeking to come to grips with the rest of the explorers. “Ware my fire!” Halamar shouted, then spoke the words of a spell that unleashed a torrent of flame. The furious blast burned down two or three of the monsters as they surged forward. Then the troglodytes were upon Jack and his comrades.
The monsters crowded in around the small company, spiked bludgeons rising and falling-but Narm’s sword whirled like a white razor, shearing off limbs left and right, while Kurzen’s hammer crushed scaly flesh and bone as he shrugged off the trogs’ blows in his heavy armor. Jack stabbed wildly with his rapier, ducking and dodging as the creatures pressed their attack. The foul musk seared his nostrils and clogged his throat; his eyes watered, and it was all he could do to keep his gorge in check. Halamar blasted the creatures with bolt after fiery bolt, until the sickening smell of charred flesh filled the hall. At that point Jack did lose his breakfast, but somehow he managed to wave his rapier around enough to keep any of the trogs from braining him while he was retching.
Then, as suddenly as the creatures had charged, they broke and scattered, fleeing back into the shadows. Narm leaped after the retreating monsters and cut one down from behind; Arlith’s crossbow sang again, dropping another. The ringing echoes of steel blades died away as Jack recovered from his distress and straightened up again. Nine or ten troglodytes lay dead or dying on the ground; by unspoken agreement the small company drew back from the thick reek hanging in the air where they’d fought.
“Looks like they’ve had enough for now,” Narm remarked. “Is anybody injured?”
“A dart bounced off the floor and struck my shin,” Halamar said. He peered down at his leg. “Ruined my boot, but it’s not too bad. I can walk.”
“You’re bleeding, Narm,” Arlith said. She pointed at the half-orc’s arm; there was a thin thread of blood running down to his elbow.
