Chapter 11: thiefCrow

When threatened on the streets of Nekis, I usually just laugh. You’re gonna die Crow! I’m gonna kill you! Words from those whose pride I have offended or whose fruit I have stolen have never intimidated me. It’s the ones who don’t yell at me whom I have to be careful of. Like officers of the Rogues Guild. I tell myself not to worry about the paladin: if I can’t deceive her, I don’t deserve to escape. Paladins are so self-righteous and full of their moral superiority they are blind to their own limitations.

It is with a scornful laugh, then, that I reply to Lady Horsta. ‘You’re not going to hang me from the roof. Given that you desire my kingdom’s dragon’s tooth.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘To solve Lord Scrithax’s puzzle you cannot be a paladin lancer; you must have my help: that of a necromancer.’

‘It makes some sense that only a necromancer can solve the puzzle. But are you a necromancer?’ she puts her hands on her hips, face showing surprise. ‘I thought you were a rogue or an assassin.’

‘He is a rogue,’ says the inferni. ‘My Appraise Foe skill says so. Level One or Two. Threat level trivial.’

‘Of course,’ I quickly reply, ‘I show up as a rogue to you; my secret class is hidden from view.’

‘Secret class? I’ve never heard of a secret class. You are just trying to save your insignificant life.’ The sneer of an inferni is impressive, all long-mouth and fangs.

‘Lord Scrithax, in his desperation, came to me in a manifestation. Divine intervention was his plan and I was the fortunate chosen man.’

‘Carry on. But stop with the rhyming nonsense.’ The paladin has come alongside the inferni. Two unlikely allies. I must return to this thought another time. Why are high-level characters from Trolland and The Underworld co-operating?

‘Crow can’t stop rhyming,’ says Belle. ‘It’s the only way he can get his words out.’

‘I did hear that Lord Scrithax used his divine intervention,’ says the paladin slowly. I can see that my stumbling words have already changed her mood. Curious now, rather than murderous, Lady Horsta continues, ‘But why waste a divine intervention on you? No offence.’

‘Paladins have such an absurd code,’ mutters Gerard, loud enough for all to hear. ‘They’ll hang you without a qualm. But they will also apologise for being rude. Oh, excuse me for giving you rope burn while I tie this cord around your neck.’

My eyes on those of the paladin I continue, ‘Of the three of us in the temple that day; it was the right choice to set me on the way. My god’s boon was a secret class to fool our foes, and with a necromancer’s magic from the city did I go. The other two there were far too old; while Crow the necromancer-rogue is suitably bold.’

‘I suppose it’s possible. What do you say, sorceress. Is this true?’

With a groan, Lisandra straightens a little from the hard floor. ‘Paladins are good at detecting lies. Look me in the eyes. I’m going to tell you the truth. I couldn’t be sure what the boon was until now, but everyone in the city – and beyond – knows that our god came and gave his divine intervention to a poor young man from the district of Crumblin. Our god is weak in these times, hardly anyone comes to worship. I believe there were only three people in the temple that day, and that Crow was the only suitable person to be a champion. What’s more, by my god’s truth, I’ve seen Crow raise a zombie, one which fetched the dragon’s tooth.’

‘Do you all have to rhyme?’ The paladin shakes her head. She is almost cheerful now.

‘It’s catching. You’ll be at it too.’ No fool, Lisandra plays along with the lighter tone of the exchanges.

‘I believe you.’ The paladin turns to smile at me. ‘So, you’ll get a tooth for me in return for your life?’

‘I will without a second thought. Although first I require a humanoid corpse.’

‘I see. We’ll go raiding tomorrow; I’m sure that won’t be an issue.’

Looking pleased with herself, the paladin pats the inferni on the back. ‘Puzzle solved. That was easy. No torture needed.’

‘Shame.’

They both laugh and turn to leave, taking their personal guards with them. The two soldiers at the door, however, remain to watch us.

‘Dear Crow, I was so worried they were going to hang you.’ Belle wriggles around to whisper to me, the affection and relief in her face fill me with happiness.

‘I’m sorry,’ whispers Aarax, ‘I didn’t quite follow what happened there. Do you really have a secret necromancer class?’

Carefully eyeing the guards, Lisandra leans close to Aarax to whisper, ‘No, he does not. But if Crow had admitted to having the necromancer’s bracer, they would simply have taken it and killed him. His story is clever. Clever enough to give us some time. And maybe, if the inferni doesn’t have other ideas, to spare our lives.’

‘I see. Well done Crow.’ Aarax has to turn his head as far as he can to look over at me and smile.

‘We are still capsized,’ says Gerard. ‘Our mission is wrecked. At best we are heading for years in prison.’

‘If we cannot leave here except bound tight; then after I summon a zombie we must fight.’

‘That’s right,’ says Lisandra, careful to control her voice and keep in check the note of enthusiasm that rises in it. ‘We’ll pretend to be going along with the agreement and then, once Crow has summoned a zombie, use it to try to ambush them.’

‘You think they won’t be alert for that?’ Gerard snorts with derision. ‘They are going to have soldiers stationed all around us to make sure we don’t try anything.’

‘Ssssh.’ Belle looks over to the door but the guards can’t hear us.

I have just enough of an angle to see the worried expression on the face of Aarax as he says, ‘I don’t have much experience of this kind of situation, but I think Gerard is right. We have to escape from this barn tonight.’

‘Oh, good idea,’ says Lisandra, with a touch of bitterness. ‘Go ahead. And while you are escaping, I’d like some venison stew for my dinner.’

There is indeed a savoury scent on the air; not too far from us the Trolland soldiers are preparing their evening meal.

Another hour passes. The guards are changed. Another hour. Another hour. And then comes the message I have been hoping for; my body filling with energy as I see it:

Skill Success: Pick Lock

Skill increase! Your Pick Lock score is now 3.

When I meditate on the handcuff locks, I realise that I now know how to open them. Quietly lifting myself into a sitting position, I lean against a timber support pole and work out a splinter with my fingernails. This I use as a wedge in the metal lock, then I prise away another, longer, splinter, with which to tease the tumblers. It’s not easy and my wrists soon begin to ache from the tight angle they have to form to manipulate the lock. All the same, I’m confident that I can do this and not long after that thought, with a faint click, my hands are suddenly loose

freeCrow is a happy Crow. I feel like singing hymns of praise to Lord Scrithax as loudly as my breath can manage. But of course the barn must remain silent. What next?

My friends are lying beside each other on the straw-covered floor, probably not asleep, but quiet and rarely moving. I must free them; I must deal with the guards. I find that I am enjoying the challenge, despite the risk.

Above me, there is a half-level for storing sacks of flour. A combination of Stealth and Climb is necessary to get up there unnoticed but I want to do so, because I remember seeing a window high up. I have those two skills and without mistake back-and-foot between two timber poles and pull myself over the lip of the upper floor. Now I can ease open the window and feel the night air, inhale the scents of dung, straw and flour. Not in the least unpleasant, these are the scents of freedom! There is a metal arm here, protruding from the barn, with a rope already threaded through a pulley. This is no challenge for me, even someone without Climb could descend that rope.

All around is darkness; the stars are obscured by cloud. Only the farmhouse has light: blocks of trembling yellow light fall from the windows to illuminate the cobbles of a yard. Coming from the farmhouse are all the sounds of a merry gathering: a constant murmur of voices, with swells and lulls; outbursts of laughter; the clatter of cutlery on a table. Having waited to confirm there are no guards in the shadows

patientCrow walks over to the farmhouse and I find a cart from where I can remain in darkness while looking inside. Soldiers all, a dozen perhaps, eating and drinking. As I watch, I hear a thrice struck metallic peal, like the sound of a large knife on shield, and they all pause to look in the same direction. I move a little until I can see the focus of their attention. It is the paladin, on her feet at the head of the table, the inferni sat beside her.

‘A toast!’ The paladin raises a tin goblet. ‘To our comrades of the Underworld, without whom we could never hope to succeed in the Epic Dragon Quest!’

‘Hurrah!’

Many a hand slaps the table. Many a goblet is lifted.

‘Speech!’

‘Speech!’

Although the inferni is shaking his head – causing his white locks of long hair to sway across his scowling face – Lady Horsta puts a hand to his elbow and lifts him to his feet. Then the paladin raises her hand and the sound from the cheerful soldiers of Trolland diminishes.

After licking his scarlet mouth with a long tongue, the inferni draws breath, ‘Thank you, my allies. Let us praise our gods. For it is their wisdom which has created an alliance that no mortal would have predicted. Let us raise our cups to Asārte, goddess of the night, devourer of souls, and Daspartar, god of thunder.’

A pause while they drink. Then the inferni resumes. ‘Let us enjoy the success of this moment and our capture of the Necromancer’s carriage. I’m sure you all appreciate that it was thanks to the Underworld’s long reach that we knew they were coming.’ The inferni looks to the paladin who nods earnestly and gives him a – not entirely convincing – smile. ‘And we can enjoy having eliminated yet another realm from the race to the dragon army.’

‘Hear! hear!’

‘Hurrah!’

‘While I have no wish to dampen your spirits this evening, I’m sure you are aware there is a very long campaign ahead of us and other, much stronger, champions gathering the keys to the quest. Still, to finish on a positive note, the Underworld is everywhere and just as we have outsmarted the Kingdom of Lost Souls, so we will outsmart all our opponents.’

Slightly less enthusiasm greets these words and soon the table is returned to a more broken pattern of conversation, eating and drinking.

It occurs to me that these soldiers – and especially the paladin and the inferni – will probably have their beds in the farm and that the contents of these rooms might prove very interesting. Will they be guarded? Will there be traps? Perhaps I should concentrate on rescuing my friends? Perhaps. But a crow is a thief by nature and I cannot deny my nature.

Under the level of the windowsills I creep, following the walls of the farmhouse all the way around to a back door which is easily unlocked. Once open a fraction, I hear only distant merriment and a quick look confirms that the corridor is in darkness. Surely the rooms I seek are upstairs? In my mind’s eye I imagine the rectangular shape of the building. Doors middle front and middle back. Stairs at either end? Or just one staircase? To find out, I turn away from the sounds towards the quieter and darker part of the house, where only one lantern, standing in an alcove, offers light.

Good. There are stairs at this end. Gently, so that none should creak, I ascend to a carpeted upper corridor and with instinct honed by years of similar creeping in the well-to-do houses of Nekis, I choose a door with a large brass lock over all the others. Neither Find Trap nor Spot Hidden alerts me to danger and so I attempt the lock, with success! Grinning to myself, I enter

quietthief in the night. A thief they all think is bound in handcuffs. Helpless. Trivial and insignificant. Opening the door I spring back, my delight turning to horror. A guard! No… my poor heart subsides. It is only pieces of plate armour stacked on a dummy. My instinct was right. This is where the paladin will spend the night. Those items of platemail are hers. There is an unlit candle on a stand by the door and although I do not wish to leave any trace of my presence, I am going to need it. The faint light in this room is not going to be enough, even for a sharp-eyed crow. Back – carefully – down to the lantern, I use the blue and yellow flame to create my own orange one and return, hand protecting the candle from blowing out.

Now, since I must travel without encumbrance I spurn the expensive shield and fine quality clothing of Lady Horsta. Her greatsword looks powerful and might even be magic, it has a glow to it that seems stronger than warranted by the reflections from my candle. An impressive bow leaning against the wall is also too bulky for my current situation, though I would love to deprive her of it. I settle for a pouch of coins; a leather case of scrolls and ink; a potion bottle; a small jade-handled knife; and, best of all, because its loss will be a blow to the person who wanted to hang me by the neck, is a silver holy symbol in the shape of a lightning bolt.

Careful still, I exit and look for the room of the inferni. It is probably the only other locked room, which is at the other end of the corridor where the stairs are much brighter and there is more noise. Another choice. And another decision to act the thief.

Crouched outside the door and meditating on my skills I know the lock has been trapped. But how? This is only a temporary place for the inferni, so he will not have had time or inclination to assemble anything too complex? What would I do? I would mistrust the paladin and her friends. I would want to know if they had looked through my belongings, for messages perhaps. I would therefore simply leave a hair to drop: a long, white hair. And there it is on the far side of the lock, shining by my candlelight.

There’s nothing I can do to stop the hair falling but I can perhaps put it back, should I wish to. What matters is that I am in the room and regretting I do not have the Appraise Value skill. My Spot Hidden at 3, serves me well though for after gathering up a tiny, silver mirror; an amulet with a swirling design like a whirlpool; a disguise kit (makeup, mostly); a fold-out wallet of lockpicks; and a long, fierce dagger; my skill reveals a secret compartment to a travel chest, in which is a small vial of something acrid -melling and a miniature writing set, with strips of paper suitable for pigeons.

These now are all mine and it is almost with a saunter that I leave the way I came, not bothering to replace the white hair but extinguishing and replacing the candle on the way. Now is the harder task, to somehow free my friends from the barn while their hands are manacled and two soldiers stand inside the door.