it's time to go back to work. Let's be up and doing, come on.'
'Uuuuuhhhhhhhhhh,' Fetchen replied.
'There we go, there we go,'
'He's had it,' came a voice behind Thorsby. It was the bald man, still smoking his noxious cigar.
'No, he hasn't!' Thorsby snapped. 'He'll be just as good as new after I get some coffee in him. You there! Fetch us a cup of coffee!'
'Drop dead, jerkoff.'
'Horrid little strumpet. Smelling salts! Yes, that's what we need. Please, have a little pity.'
The houri chuckled her reply.
'How cruel can you be? This man's dying!'
'My heart's bleedin', honey.'
'You'd let him die?'
'Betcha sweet ass.'
'Better it happens now,' the bald man said, turning away.
KEEP — HIGHER UP
People everywhere!
Throngs of them, droves of them. People of every description decked out in every sort of wild get-up. Kwip had never seen so many different varieties of human creature. And they were all after his loot!
'That's mine!' Kwip screamed at the man with the odd pill-shaped cap.
'How do you figure, mate?'
Kwip grabbed at the sparkling sapphire ring. When the lanky sailor held it out of reach over his head, grinning, Kwip let him have a boot in the groin. The sailor went down and Kwip had his ring back. The encircling crowd voiced its disapproval, hissing and booing.
'To the devil with all of you,' Kwip snarled as he ran off, the bulky sack of recovered booty rattling against his back.
First endless musicians, then big cats, then gladiators, and now this. He'd nearly lost his life to the cats-that last pair had chased him down six flights of stairs-but Kwip almost preferred them to this horde of sticky-fingered scavengers.
Through a chink in the rush he spied a gold chalice lying on the stone floor of the corridor; but he wasn't quick enough. Before he could reach it, the thing got kicked. It skittered down the hall and ended up being punted into a side passage.
Hefting the overstuffed sack, Kwip pushed and shoved his way after it, but the press got ever greater. Someone stepped on his toe and he yelped. Then someone trod on his heels; he let loose a punch to the kidney in answer. The man on the receiving end collapsed against his neighbor, who in turn tripped up two unfortunate passers-by, who… and so forth. This domino effect generated a minor tussle, which Kwip struggled to get away from.
At a safe distance, he resumed the pursuit. Drat. Now he'd lost sight of the chalice. He stooped and peered among the hosts of stamping feet, and for his trouble got goosed up the backside. He clouted the nearest suspect, who was in fact completely innocent; but no matter. Kwip ducked the retaliatory blow, which landed on another bystander, who became justly aggrieved-and in no time a major brawl broke out between a construction gang and some gentlemen in leather vests and odd helmets.
Kwip couldn't slip away from this quarrel. A giant of a man came at him and he had to resort to whacking the brute with the sack, which promptly split open.
A cascade of baubles and bangles splashed to the floor: bracelets, anklets, earrings, and chains; pins, brooches, chatelaines, torques. Out gushed gems and precious stones of every sort and value: diamonds, emeralds, agate, and heliotrope, onyx and amethyst, all clattering and tinkling and skittering into every nook and corner.
There ensued a mad scramble for the scattered treasure. Fist fights broke out all over. Shouts and curses. Fingers gouged at eyeballs, knees found their way to sensitive parts. Elbows jabbed into solar plexuses.
At length Kwip crawled out of the swirling maelstrom. He got to his feet, saw a swinging door, and fled through it. He found himself on a wide landing between stairways with a high Palladian window, overlooking courtyards far below, set into the far wall. Amazing to behold, there was no traffic on the stairs. Kwip sat himself down on the stone window seat and burst into tears.
All his swag, gone. How many years' work? Half a dozen, at least. Piles of pretty gewgaws, heaps of fancy trinkets, gold, silver, and platinum gimcracks. All lovely little bijous, and all irretrievably lost. Washed away like sand castles with the rising tide.
Castles! He never wanted to see the inside of another castle as long as he lived. He would hie himself out of this insane place once and for all. He would choose a likely looking aspect, one of tidy villages peopled by sturdy upright middle-class stock, prosperous burghers, every man, woman, and child. And he'd steal them blind and live at his ease and be happy forevermore.
He let loose a great despairing sigh. Gods. No, truth to tell, he'd probably stay here. Stealing was work, and Kwip had never cared much for work. Which was why he stole in the first place. In the past few years he'd slacked off something awful. He liked to steal, he loved his profession, but when there was no real need for it…
Ah, well.
The door on the landing burst open. Kwip looked up and was puzzled when no one came through. The door eased shut. He shrugged and went back to brooding.
'Kwip.'
Kwip was startled to hear a disembodied voice at his side.
He jumped to his feet and searched about, yet still saw no one.
It is i, Osmirik.
Kwip said warily, 'Where are you?'
In front of you. One moment.
Kwip was astounded when Osmirik materialized before his eyes.
'Sorcery, is it?' Kwip asked.
'Of a low sort,' Osmirik said. 'With it I avoided the sword fights, but these teeming multitudes make passage through the castle impossible.' He cast glances up and down the stairwell. 'Seems to be thin in here.'
'Aye. But I hear rumblings below.'
Osmirik listened. Sounds of mounting feet drifted up from the depths of the stairwell. His shoulders fell.
'The way is by no means clear.' he said.
'By no means,' Kwip agreed. 'But then, why descend to the lower floors? Thence come all our troubles, methinks.'
'True, but I must get to the source, which, I have surmised, may be a certain hidden storeroom in the crypt.'
'Think you?'
'Indeed. i may be able to abrogate the spell, or at least inform the king so that he may do so.'
'Aye, good. But getting there's the rub.'
'True.'
Osmirik sat and thought.
Lord Peter Thaxton came running down the stairs and skidded to a stop on sight of the two dispirited men. Thaxton was breathing hard. 'What gives?'
'Nary a thing,' Kwip said. 'I've just lost my life's fortune.'
'Just lost my best friend,' Thaxton said.
Osmirik was about to ask who, but realized it could only be one man. 'My condolences. How came it about?'
'Details later, please,' Thaxton said as he sat down heavily. 'Must get my second wind.'
'We are essaying to find a way to the lower keep,' Osmirik said.
