Shards of a Broken Crown

The torch was dry and caught at once, and Jimmy said, “Let’s see what we have here.” He rummaged through the contents of the hiding place, a false stone in the wall at waist height.

“How did you know where to look?” asked Malar.

“My grandfather had reason to spend some time in the sewers.” He glanced at Malar. “He was a city employee.”

“A sewer worker?”

“At times,” said Jimmy. “Anyway, he told me that from whatever thieves’ entrance into the city, you move to the first intersection, then to the right, and about twelve paces to the right, a cache would be found. Seems the Mockers wanted to make sure that if they got chased down into the darkness, they could find light and some tools.” He waved at the cache. “Observe.” He patted each item as he named it. “A good length of rope. A large breaker bar. A water skin. A dagger, torches, or a lantern.”

“A lantern with a shutter would prove safer,” said Malar.

“True,” agreed Jimmy, “but as we don’t have one, we must settle for what is at hand. There may be other caches still intact, and perhaps we can find a lantern there.”

He glanced around in the murk and said, “Gods!”

Malar said, “What?” concern obvious in his tone.

“Look at this mess.”

“Sir, it’s a sewer,” replied Malar, irritation in his voice.

“I know that. But look at the walls and the water.”

Malar saw then what Jimmy meant. While expecting moss-covered stones and brackish water, he didn’t expect to see every surface covered in soot. He glanced at his own hands and said, “Sir, I think we must bathe once we get above, else we shall surely be noticed.”

Jimmy glanced at his servant and said, “If I’ve scratched my chin as much as you, it is certain I look like a chimney sweep.”

Malar said, “You’re filthy, sir.”

Jimmy said, “Well, no one said this would be easy.”

As he set off, he heard Malar mutter, “No one said it would be impossible, either.”

Dash nodded and Gustaf jumped. He landed behind the big stone they were attempting to move, and ducked out of sight of the guards. He held a piece of broken crockery he had secreted in his shirt two days before and quickly sawed at a key rope in the net used to haul the stones.

The rope net was a clever device that could be placed around the stone, fitted under the corners as men used levers to raise them. Once hoisted aloft, a quick pass of two ropes beneath the stone put on a second lifting net, and once above the intended destination, the two ropes were removed, and the stone lowered a few inches as the webbing loosened, dropping the stone. Dash knew a practiced crew of stone masons could do this with a tolerance of a mere fraction of an inch. With Dash’s crew, they were happy to get the stone within an inch of ideal tolerance. The only masons in Krondor were Duko’s engineers, and there was a severe language problem with most of the workers.

Gustaf stepped around from behind the stone, nodding to Dash. “Haul away,” he shouted.

Dash stepped back as two men readied the ropes to be passed under the stone, and watched. The stone lifted two feet in the air, then suddenly tilted as a loud snap sounded. The strand Gustaf had cut had parted, and now the stone hung a few feet off the ground, spinning slowly. The two men with the support ropes backed away.

“Get it down!” shouted a voice from below, and suddenly the rock was dropped.

“No!” said the foreman, too late, as men who should have slowly lowered the stone released the rope. Instead of settling quietly to the ledge, the rock bounced a bit then teetered, as Dash had hoped, then slowly started to fall.

“Look out!” cried a man near Dash as men started scrambling out of the way.

“Come on,” Dash said to Gustaf as confusion erupted.

They hurried past a guard standing still in fascination as the rock slid outward, overhanging the parapet, slowly moving to balance a moment in the air, then start its dramatic fall to the cobbles below.

Dash, Gustaf, and some other men hurried down a flight of stone steps, as if intent on helping those below. But at the base of the wall, Dash moved quickly to his right, into what appeared to be a slight gap in the stones. The others ducked into the gap after him.

The ancient wall of Krondor was hollow in places, storage sheds used to house grain, water, and weapons against siege. Many of the old storage rooms had been used during the last war, but several had been left empty, like these along the easternmost wall.

Dash had waited a week to find this one, an ideal exit from captivity if he had judged correctly. Either there was a sewer entrance here, or a passage to another abandoned storage area that had one. The only danger would be if they were caught ducking into this room, or if the passage to the next room was blocked by fallen masonry. They would be missed at the head count done each meal break and that was only an hour off.

In the gloom, it was difficult to find the entrance, but Dash managed. Below a heavy layer of ash and dust lay a wooden pallet, used to keep grain off the damp stones. Below that was a man-sized hole, covered with a simple iron grate. Dash whispered, “Give me a hand,” and two other men stooped next to him.

In the faint light coming in through the broken wall, Dash could make out the profiles of Gustaf and Talwin. Gustaf was what he appeared to be, but Talwin had Dash concerned. Yet here he was risking broken fingers to get the grating up, without any hint of betrayal.

The grate came up and was moved out of the way. Dash started to lower himself down, and said, “It’s going to be difficult, dropping into the dark, but you should hit water about seven, eight feet below you, so expect that. Face the same way I am and move to your right. You won’t see a thing, but I know my way around down there.”

He let go, which was among the most courageous acts of his life, as every fiber of his being screamed to hang onto the stone and not fall into darkness. For a brief instant it felt as if he had made some terrible misjudgment, for it seemed as if he fell through blackness for a long time, yet only a moment after letting go his feet struck water. He bent his knees and hit the stones under the water and lost his balance. He fell forward, his head going completely under the foul water, and he came up, blowing hard to keep anything in that sewer out of his nose and mouth. His grandfather had warned him about that, claiming that many thieves had fallen in the sewer only to later sicken and die from it.

He quickly stepped to his right, and a moment later another man fell through the hole into the darkness. “Here,” said Dash, and the man moved toward him in the blackness.

Then two other men came through, and Dash said, “Who’s here?”

“Gustaf,” said the second man down.

“Talwin,” said the next voice.

“Reese,” said the third, and Dash remembered the tall quiet man with whom Talwin spoke from time to time. “I saw you three move and took the moment. No sense standing around like sheep.”

Dash doubted that; he was certain Talwin had alerted Reese something was afoot, but he didn’t care to debate that now. “Good,” he said aloud. “We can use all the help we can getting out of here.”

“Now what?” said Gustaf. “We’re in the darkest pit I’ve seen and the foulest smelling, and what are we to do next?”

Dash said, “This is part of the old sewer under the wall. If we keep moving back toward the city center, we’ll find a way out of Krondor.”

“Why not just move away from the city if we’re under the wall?” asked Reese.

“Because this”—Dash’s hand struck the stone next to which he stood—“is the outer limit of the sewer. To get on the other side of the wall you better be able to chew rock.”

“Damn,” said Gustaf. “I thought we’d slip out under the wall or something when you told me of the sewers.”

“They never connected the sewer in the foulbourgh with the inner city. It would make it too easy for an invader to slip in.” Dash muttered, “As it is, a good crew of sappers could still get in within weeks if they knew this was here. There’s one breach to the other side of this wall, but we must go into the city to eventually get there.”

“Well, which way do we go?” asked Talwin.

Glancing up at the faint light of the hole above, Dash oriented himself. “Get over here.”

The men gathered near him. “Gustaf, put your right hand on my right shoulder.” He felt the mercenary’s strong hand take a grip of his tunic. “Talwin, do the same to Gustaf, and Reese bring up the rear. Listen for my instructions.” Dash put his right hand on the wall and said, “Let’s go, slowly. And if you lose your grip, sing out.”

They moved off into the gloom.

Jimmy turned suddenly and put his hand over Malar’s mouth as he let the torch fall to the stone walkway next to the sewer. As he hoped, the torch began to fail and flicker, allowing Jimmy to step on it, putting out the light. Malar had the presence of mind not to be too shocked by the move, and he endured standing there with Jimmy’s hand over his mouth.