JollyDoc
Explorer
11 Rova, 4716 - 20 Rova, 4716 - Biding Time
Day 2
"I see what's going on here," Tardaesha said.
She sat at the bar in the Lord's Dalliance, her chin propped in one hand, smiling slyly at Bellam Barhold.
"How do you mean, Miss?" the innkeeper asked hesitantly.
"The soldiers," Tardaesha replied. "Your serving girls."
Barhold paled slightly.
"You have an awful lot of men from the Tower asking your ladies out on 'lunch' dates. Strangely enough, all of these 'dates' seem to take place upstairs...where there's no food."
Barhold cleared his throat.
"Well, Miss, 'tis not exactly a secret, but the Lord Commander frowns on such things. Still, even a man such as him knows his boys have needs, and better to have those needs met privately here than in the back alleys of the town proper. Quite a scandal that would be."
"Quite," Tardaesha kept smiling. "Don't get me wrong. I don't disapprove. I just want in on the action."
Barhold's complexion flushed bright red this time.
"How's that?" he stammered.
"You heard me," Tardaesha said. "Ultimately, once our consortium establishes trade routes here, we will be bringing in a tidy income, but in the mean time, a girl's got to eat. Allow me to ply my wares along with your ladies, and you can have half my take. Interested?"
Barhold looked her up and down for a long moment, then nodded.
"The boys are always interested in fresh me...ah, 'wares,'" he said. "You keep it discrete, mind you, and only on the grounds of the inn. I won't be inviting trouble from his Lordship."
"It's a deal," Tardaesha grinned, and held out her hand to shake on it.
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Katarina walked around the side of the inn to an outside pantry door. She glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, though truthfully, even if they had been it would be unlikely they would have given her a second glance. After all, delivery boys were a common sight around the Lord's Dalliance, and the circlet upon her brow allowed her a convincing disguise. Certain that the coast was clear, she slipped her picks from her sleeve and deftly opened the lock on the door, then darted quickly inside. The pantry was unoccupied, and she put her ear to the door that led into the wine closet. All quiet. Kat entered the small room and then through the door to the cellar. She had no trouble finding the spot on the wall that Barhold had touched the night before, and when she pressed it, the wall hinged open. Glancing around one last time, she slipped through and pulled the door shut behind her.
Beyond the door was a winding tunnel. Kat followed for some distance, perhaps even a mile or more, she could not tell. Eventually, it ended in a sizable vault that looked to be filled with several thousand days' worth of iron rations alongside barrels of potable water and other durable provisions. There was a ladder leading up to a trap door in the ceiling. Kat climbed it and pressed her ear against the wood. From the other side she could hear the clanging sound of metal on metal, and the voices of several men. She climbed back down and sat cross-legged on the floor, pondering. It seemed the rumor was true. She must be directly under the Tower. She decided to bide her time there for awhile.
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Earlier that morning, Lemmy had met the dwarves in the common room. They greeted him jovially, and introduced themselves again: Nalond, Brotil, Dwinuun, Grunni, Drukon, Hargrim, Farni, Munzad, Ketzad, Grigrim, and of course their leader Barnabus. Lemmy made them an even dozen. They set off towards the Tower, but as they left the taproom, Lemmy could hear Dakota, seated at the bar, whistling a familiar tune, one that started with the nonsense lyrics 'Hi Ho, Hi Ho.' Lemmy vowed to smother her in her sleep when he had a chance.
The dwarves entered the Tower through a small gate on the Aldencross side that was barred by a portcullis and a reinforced door. Beyond that was a large courtyard that was mostly utilitarian. The grass was short and the paths cobbled. A plain fountain burbled quietly to one side and several tonsured young men, dressed in the white robes of Iomedean acolytes, were busy cleaning it. A large keep sat in the middle of the courtyard, with two soldiers standing post outside its doors. Lemmy made a mental note of all that he witnessed. Barnabus Eisenbauch led them up a flight of stairs from the yard to the battlements, and then onto a bridge that spanned one-hundred feet from the walls to the gatehouse which faced the northern wilds.
"The Bridge of Death they call this," Eisenbauch said to Lemmy. "It overlooks another bridge down below. If an army were to get past the gatehouse, this would be the second line of defense. Archers could fire volleys and drop stones down onto the invaders. Got its name over a hundred years ago when a tribe of ogres attacked Balentyne and managed to break the portcullis. The commander of the Tower at the time left the drawbridge down and the ogres rushed out onto the bridge. That's when the archers let loose, and within a minute not a single ogre survived!"
"Fascinatin' bit'o engineerin', that," Lemmy grinned.
The bridge led to the second level of the gatehouse, where a single door was propped open. Inside was an open room that spanned the entire level. Archer slits lined the walls, and two great cauldrons filled with heated sand stood poised above murder holes. Two stout winches were placed along one wall.
"Drawbridge, and portcullis," Eisenbauch indicated each.
'Fool,' Lemmy thought to himself. 'Just keep talkin'."
Four soldiers were on duty in the room, and it was obvious that the outer door was kept open due to the chamber's stifling heat. A pair of ladders led to trapdoors in the ceiling, and there were also two trapdoors in the floor. Four of the dwarves peeled off at this point and began fussing with the winches as well as the cauldron trolleys. Eisenbauch and the others, motioning for Lemmy to follow, climbed one of the ladders to the rooftop.
The open-air, crenellated roof of the gatehouse was dominated by siege engines and munitions of war. The banner of Talingarde fluttered from a flagpole mounted in the center of the west battlements. Two fearsome ballistae pointed out across the rocky approach to the gatehouse. They were loaded with great barbed missiles that conveyed the message 'death to any who approach unbidden.' Beside each ballista was a rack full of ammunition for them, at least fifty shots apiece. Two stone-droppers overlooked the portcullis of the gatehouse, which would allow rocks from great troughs to be hurled down upon the heads of approaching invaders. The troughs were loaded down with old masonry from various building projects. Four soldiers stood guard around the roof, overseen by a craggy-faced captain who glared sternly at the dwarves as they emerged, especially the newcomer.
"That's Captain Barhold," Eisenbauch muttered to Lemmy. " 'Iron Sam,' his men call him. Tough old bastard that one. Eyes in the back of his head."
"Barhold?" Lemmy asked. "Like the innkeeper?"
"His brother," Eisenbauch explained. "No love lost there, though. Anyway, this'll be your post for as long as your working for me. These crenellations have seen their better days. Gonna take years to get'em back in shape."
"Aye, aye," Lemmy nodded. "Be good to get some stone back under me hands."
Everything was going as planned, he thought.
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Roger also went to work at Balentyne Tower that morning. He had used his circlet to make himself appear as a nondescript, rather dull-witted human, and had joined the procession of day laborers making their way up to the fortress. They entered the Tower through a set of large, solidly-built double doors at the base of the crag upon which the structure stood. The doors were open and two soldiers stood watch there, though they seemed less than enthusiastic about their duty. They only stopped those carrying large bundles, searching for weapons or contraband, then waving them through along with the rest. The doors gave onto a large passage that seemed to serve as a main thoroughfare for the lower level. Various denizens of the Tower came and went through the busy artery. Another half-dozen guards waited inside, and they herded the workers through various doors. Roger was assigned to work in the kitchens, hauling dry goods from the pantry and storeroom. Over the course of the day, he took note of a wooden stair-ladder that led to a trapdoor from the main kitchen, and by listening in on various conversations, learned that it led to the great hall of the keep itself.
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Tardaesha spent most of the day in the outhouse behind the inn. She was not sick. In fact she'd never felt better, though if anyone had chanced to see her, they would have thought she'd gone mad. She had pried the seat off of the jakes, revealing the foul-smelling, fly-infested latrine below. Then, she stripped naked and leaped down into the pit. Once inside she set about smearing her entire body, head to toe with excrement, even going so far as to actually ingest some of the filth. She had no fear of making herself ill. She had grown in her power and devotion to Asmodeus, and knew that she was no longer susceptible to the ravages of disease. That did not mean she couldn't spread such pestilence to others, however...a veritable bringer of plague...
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Katarina had lost track of time down in the darkness of the vault, but when she finally heard the noises above her die away, she assumed it must be late afternoon or even dusk. Cautiously, quietly, she climbed the ladder and listened for several minutes at the trapdoor before lifting it open just a fraction. The large, circular room she saw appeared to be a combination armory and smithy. Weapons, shields and breastplates, all bearing the marks of the Talirean military, lined the walls, and a large forge stood in the center. It was empty of soldiers, though, and that was more important. Kat climbed out of the door and closed it behind her.
A single door led from the room, but a staircase spiraled up one wall. She went first to the door, listened, then pulled it open. An empty hallway lay beyond, with several closed doors on either side. She closed the door back, and began climbing the stairs. As she neared the top, she heard voices and paused, sinking into the shadows. The room above was tall and open, with six large banners hanging on the walls. Another set of stairs continued to climb, while one door stood closed on the far side. Two soldiers stood in idle conversation in the middle of the room. Kat eavesdropped for several minutes, but their talk was banal and trivial. She drifted back downstairs to the armory. She'd seen enough for now. The secret tunnel did exist, and led into the heart of Balentyne. She needed to get back to her comrades and inform them of all she'd gleaned.
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That evening, cleaned up and dressed to kill, Tardaesha found plying her trade laughably easy. She had targeted a particular soldier: a homely, obese, acne-ridden youth by the name of Porkins. He had been sitting glumly in a corner while his mates downed drinks and groped wenches. He'd looked shocked when Tardaesha sat down with him and asked him to buy her an ale. Tripping over his own words (and feet), he'd hurried to comply before this vision of loveliness vanished before his eyes. By the time he'd ordered a second and third round, Tardaesha knew she could have asked him to steal from his own mother if that's what it took to get her into bed. She led him upstairs, emptied his purse for him, and proceeded to give him a night he would never forget in the short amount of time remaining to him.
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Day 3
The town was abuzz the next morning due to the arrival of Ye Merrie Men, a troupe of actors led by the famed thespian William Marcus Marlowe, the so-called Bard of Barrington. They would be performing "The Fall of Ameberlyn," a rousing tale of how love and greed brought down a great city state, in the Great Hall of Balentyne that very night. It promised to be well-attended, and Barnabus Eisenbauch invited Lemmy to go with the rest of the engineers. The old dwarf said that every soldier that wasn't on duty, all of the captains, the servants, the priests, the Lord Commander, and even the reclusive magister would be present.
'How about that?' Lemmy thought.
When he informed the others of this turn of events, Kelvin was thoughtful.
"The matter of the rookery has been weighing on my mind," he said. "Whatever our plan, if the Tower manages to get a message out, then that means reinforcements, which would not bode well for the Fire-Axe, nor us. I believe that should be our first priority, and tonight might just be the perfect opportunity."
"What do you have in mind," Tardaesha asked.
"Timeon told you that the raven-master was a recluse," Kelvin replied, "so it may be that he will not go to the play. It doesn't really matter one way or the other. Kat and I will have our best chance of sneaking in through the tunnel tonight while everyone is occupied. If this Mad Martin is unfortunate enough to be in the rookery, then he will meet the same fate as his pets. The only uncertainty is where exactly the room is located."
"While I was workin' up on the gatehouse roof," Lemmy offered," I saw lots of black birds flyin' in and out of the top of the south tower."
"Good man!" Kelvin clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew there was a reason we let you live!"
Lemmy scowled.
"So it's settled," Kelvin continued. "Lemmy and Roger will attend the performance tonight and be our backup should things not go as planned. Kat and I will be in and out with no one the wiser if all goes well. By tomorrow morning, Balentyne Tower will be officially incommunicado."
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By nightfall, the common room of the Lord's Dalliance was empty. Anyone who was able had gone to the performance. After all, it wasn't every day that such a notable troupe came to town. Kat had no trouble getting back down into the cellar to the hidden tunnel. Kelvin, not so stealthy as his little sister, opted to travel under a spell of invisibility instead. With Katarina leading the way, they covered the mile-long distance relative quickly and emerged into the storage vault. Kat made sure the armory was unoccupied, and then they climbed the ladder and headed for the stairs leading up into the south tower. Halfway up, Kat paused and uncorked a small flask that Tardaesha had given her. Quaffing it, she faded from view. The invisible siblings entered the flag room above the armory, where two different soldiers were grousing about missing the evening's festivities. Kelvin wanted to assure them that they wouldn't be bored for long, but held his tongue and moved as quietly as he could to the second set of stairs.
"Are you still with me?" Kat whispered over her shoulder.
"Right here," Kelvin answered. "What do you make of this?"
The third floor of the tower had arrow slits adorning its entire outer wall. Wooden racks contained dozens of quivers of arrows. It was lit by two sconces, and another set of stairs continued on the far side.
"An archer's strongpoint," Kat said. "This give me an idea for later."
They continued to the top floor of the tower where the stairs ended in a small guardroom that was currently unoccupied. A heavy iron door with a stout lock stood in the far wall. Kat leaned against it for several moments.
"Birds," she whispered. "Lots of them. And there's someone in there talking as well. Only one person I think."
She fished out her picks and set to work on the lock. So familiar was she with her tools that she had no need to see them, invisible as they were, like the rest of her gear. She could work simply by touch and sound alone. In less than a minute she had the lock open.
"Ready?" she asked Kelvin.
"As I'm going to be," her brother replied.
Kat pulled the door open swiftly. The large room beyond was dim, foul-smelling, and full of bird droppings. Hundreds of black-winged ravens roosted in the rafters and in cubbies built into the walls, and standing in the midst of them was a wild-haired old codger dressed in a padded coat. Several ravens perched on his arms and shoulders, and he crooned softly to them like a mother singing to her babes. He started to turn when he heard the door open, but Kat sprang across the room in the space of a heartbeat. She plunged her dagger into his back and he gasped as she became visible, her eyes hard and cold. The ravens began cawing and flapping their wings in agitation. Slowly, Mad Martin's eyelids drooped until they closed, and he sagged to the floor, snoring.
"Well worth the price," Kat smiled as she wiped her blade clean.
"The dark elves do know their poisons," Kelvin agreed. "That was good thinking on your part to have Tiadora procure you some. Father would have been proud."
Kat's smile broadened as she leaned down and cleanly slit the raven-master's throat.
When the deed was done, Kat took several flasks of oil from her pack and began pouring it around the room while Kelvin started systematically snapping the necks of every bird he could get his hands on. While he finished that grisly work, Kat slipped back downstairs to the archer's nest and coated every quiver with more oil. When she was done, she took a torch from one of the sconces and tossed it upon the racks. Flames erupted instantly, and she quickly darted back upstairs.
"Done!" she called.
Kelvin nodded, wringing the necks of the last few ravens.
"Go to the window," he told her. "I'll be right there."
Kat obeyed, sitting on the sill while her brother began casting a spell. He conjured a sphere of fire the size of a melon and rolled it into the center of the room. The oil ignited with a loud 'whoomph,' and suffocating heat and smoke began filling the chamber. Kelvin ran to Kat, another spell on his lips. He disappeared from sight again.
"Jump!" Kat heard him shout, and she did not hesitate.
She leaped from the window, fifty feet above the ground, on a side of the tower facing the wooded slopes rather than the courtyard. A moment later, she heard Kelvin's voice casting again, and her descent suddenly slowed dramatically as she floated towards the ground gentle as a feather. As soon as her feet touched the earth, she dove for the shadowed shelter of the tree line, hearing Kelvin huffing along behind her. The siblings vanished into the gloom as smoke and flames began pouring from the upper levels of the tower.
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Lemmy was seated in the keep's Great Hall with the dwarven contingent, actually enjoying the performance, much to his surprise, when the signal horns began to sound. Instantly, all of the soldiers and staff were on their feet, their captains and the Lord Commander barking orders. Eisenbauch and the rest of the dwarves rose to follow them, and Lemmy went with them, a knowing smile concealed within his thick beard.
When the doors of the Great Hall opened, the orange glow of firelight spilled in from outside, and men began shouting and running. Lemmy reached the courtyard and saw that the top of the south tower was engulfed in flames.
"It's the rookery!" Eisenbauch exclaimed. "C'mon boys! We got us a fire to put out!"
Lemmy accompanied his colleagues and even joined in the bucket brigade, all the while knowing it was a futile effort, and more pleased by that knowledge.
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Day 4
The fire was all that anyone could talk about in town the next day. A terrible tragedy! It was rumored that it had started in the archer's nest, perhaps by an unsecured torch falling from its sconce. From there it had likely spread upwards to the rookery, killing poor Master Martin and all his birds. There would be an official investigation, and the soldiers who had been on duty in the flag room would likely be held responsible for dereliction. In any event, no members of the garrison were given leave from the Tower that day, and many of the townsfolk volunteered to go to Balentyne to assist with cleanup.
Ye Merrie Men packed up and left Aldencross that morning, as it was made abundantly clear by the Lord Commander that there would be no encore performance. Some even whispered that Lord Havelyn blamed the acting troupe for distracting his men from their work.
That evening, a memorial service was held for Martin Rayard in the choir hall of the Tower. Father Donnagin presided, and though no one had every really much cared for the eccentric raven master, the pews were full, as everyone realized what the loss of him and his birds meant for the Watch Tower.
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Day 5
Things began to get back to normal both in town and at the Tower, and it was on that day that Tardaesha first made the acquaintance of Captain Zacharias ("Call me Zack!") Eddarly. A handsome and rakish gallant, he was the only officer to ever frequent the Lord's Dalliance, and he had the reputation of being somewhat of a lady's man. His wardrobe befitted one more of noble bearing than a career soldier. He sat at his favorite table and drank, flirting with the bar maids, and generally being the life of the party. Tardaesha wasted no time in gaining his attention.
Still, despite her best overtures, it quickly became clear to Tardaesha that Eddarly was not interested in what she had to offer. Instead, all he wanted to do was moon about some woman named Kaitlyn.
"The poor girl," Eddarly said, shaking his head. "Her husband is a career military man. Cares only for his position, giving no thought for the lonely, neglected woman waiting for him at home."
"Umm hmm," Tardaesha nodded, stifling a yawn. "Why doesn't she just find another man?"
"Oh, a divorce would be too much of a scandal!" Eddarly exclaimed. "Her family would disown her."
"I didn't say anything about a divorce," Tardaesha winked.
A flush suffused the captain's face, and that is when she knew.
"Sooo," she asked, "do you know her husband?"
"We work together," Eddarly said, but added, "though I can't mention his name. That would be gossiping."
"Of course," Tardaesha smiled.
After Captain Eddarly departed, it did not take Tardaesha long to find out from some of the other soldiers that Kaitlyn just so happened to be the name of Captain Franz Mott's wife. Mott had a reputation among the men of being gruff, and dour...all business. It wasn't long after that for rumors to begin circulating among the guards, thanks to a few less-than-subtle hints dropped by Tardaesha, that Captain Eddarly might be offering something more than a shoulder to cry on to Captain Mott's lady. Somehow, these rumors spread to the dwarves as well, and to the day laborers who came and went from Tower. By that evening, the whispers had moved faster than the fire two nights past.
As the day drew to an end, and evening came on, the taproom of the Lord's Dalliance was not as filled as usual. Word was that several of the soldiers had fallen ill. There was even talk that Father Donnigan feared it might be cholera...
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Day 6
"The winches for the portcullis are in the same room as the sand cauldrons fer the murder'in holes," Lemmy said as the Knot gathered in their rooms for their morning plan-of-action conference. "Four guards on duty all the time."
Tardaesha nodded. "Yes, they are usually all from Timeon's company. He informed me that tonight he is supposed to be on duty, along with another acquaintance of mine, Private Porkins, who, I'm afraid, has been indisposed by sickness. So I think tonight would be a prime opportunity for us to engage in a bit of sabotage."
Later that evening, Kelvin placed spells of invisibility on Roger and Tardaesha, then Kat snuck them down to the cellar of the inn and into the secret tunnel. Timeon was waiting for them in the vault at the far end. He gave brief, but complete descriptions to Kat and Roger of the other two soldiers who were supposed to be on duty with him and Porkins that night. The pair of them used their circlets to make their appearances match those he described as closely as possible, while Tardaesha disguised herself as Porkins. The four of them climbed the ladder to the armory, and then walked up the stairs to the flag room. The two soldiers there nodded to them, but continued their conversation as the others passed through to the courtyard. They walked to the stairs leading to the battlements, and then crossed the Bridge of Death to the gatehouse.
"What are you lot doing here so early?" one of the on-duty soldiers asked when Timeon knocked on the door.
"Thought we'd do you lads a favor and let you off early," Timeon smiled. "But you'll owe us one down the road."
The guard peered at the others.
"Say, Porkins," he said, narrowing his eyes, "you're not looking so hot. Thought you was sick. And Tarley, can't say you're looking much better."
"We've both been down with the runs," Tardaesha put on a morose expression. "We're feeling a might better, but Father says might still be catching, so if I was you lot, I'd bugger off while you can afore you get the shites yourselves!"
The guard's face paled slightly, and he called to his companions.
"Come on, boys. Let's not look gift horses in the mouth."
Once they were gone, Katarina went to work quickly. She spent several minutes working on the winches, then moved to the cauldrons. Once she'd finished, she stood and brushed off her hands.
"There," she said. "That should do it. The portcullis can still be raised normally, but once it's up, it will jam in place. As for the cauldrons, I rigged their trolleys so they can't be tipped. No one will be the wiser until they try to use them."
"Well done," Tardaesha nodded. "Timeon, do you remember the plan?"
The squire nodded as well. "Yes. When the real relief crew comes, I'll just tell them I got here ahead of time and told the others to take an early night. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Good boy!" Tardaesha gave him a lingering kiss, leaving him flushed and a bit sweaty.
"We'll be off then," she said. "Until next time."
They retraced their steps, informing the soldiers in the flag room that Porkins had taken ill again, and they were returning him to the barracks.
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Day 7
It was cholera. No doubt about it. Father Donnagin had confirmed twenty cases already. They would be unfit for duty for at least three days, and would remain in quarantine for another week after that. One fifth of the garrison. Tardaesha was disappointed it wasn't more.
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Day 8
As the members of the 9th Knot sat for breakfast, a young squire came bursting into the common room from outside.
"They're fighting!" he shouted, and then charged back out again.
The patrons all looked at one another in confusion, then as one they jumped from their seats and headed outside.
More folk were streaming out of their homes, and several soldiers ran with them. They were all headed for a small field, where a sizable crowd had already gathered.
"Well, well," Dakota smiled as she pushed through the throng. "Looks like someone's been telling tales out of class."
Tardaesha and the others moved up beside her to see what she was talking about. Two men faced off in the center of the field. The younger one held a longsword in one hand, while the older man gripped a great-sword with both of his. It was Captain Eddarly and Captain Mott. Dueling. Nearby, a young woman wailed, pleading with them both to stop. Tardaesha could only assume it was Kaitlyn. She put one hand over her mouth to hide her grin. The two soldiers clashed, Mott clearly the stronger, rushing in headlong and bashing with his heavier blade. Eddarly was nimble, however, and managed to side-step the deadly blows. At first he seemed content with merely fending off or staying out of reach of Mott, hoping to tire the older man out, but it became quickly apparent that Mott was not going to let up. Eddarly was forced to go on the offensive. He fought more like a fencer, thrusting and parrying, compared to Mott's battering ram approach. Finally, as Mott raised his sword above his head, Eddarly darted forward and thrust his sword through the other captain's chest. Mott's eyes went wide, and Kaitlyn screamed. Blood frothed from his mouth and he fell heavily to the ground. The crowd went silent.
Within minutes, another dozen soldiers had arrived, accompanied by none other than the Lord Commander himself. He surveyed the scene somberly.
"Captain Eddarly," he intoned, "you are hereby under arrest, charged with dueling to the death. As you well know, this is a capital offense. Seize him!"
The guards rushed to comply, and despite Eddarly's protests of self-defense, hauled him away in chains. Others picked up Mott's body and carried it back to the Tower. Kaitlyn was left kneeling on the ground, her tears mixing with the blood of her murdered husband.
Day 2
"I see what's going on here," Tardaesha said.
She sat at the bar in the Lord's Dalliance, her chin propped in one hand, smiling slyly at Bellam Barhold.
"How do you mean, Miss?" the innkeeper asked hesitantly.
"The soldiers," Tardaesha replied. "Your serving girls."
Barhold paled slightly.
"You have an awful lot of men from the Tower asking your ladies out on 'lunch' dates. Strangely enough, all of these 'dates' seem to take place upstairs...where there's no food."
Barhold cleared his throat.
"Well, Miss, 'tis not exactly a secret, but the Lord Commander frowns on such things. Still, even a man such as him knows his boys have needs, and better to have those needs met privately here than in the back alleys of the town proper. Quite a scandal that would be."
"Quite," Tardaesha kept smiling. "Don't get me wrong. I don't disapprove. I just want in on the action."
Barhold's complexion flushed bright red this time.
"How's that?" he stammered.
"You heard me," Tardaesha said. "Ultimately, once our consortium establishes trade routes here, we will be bringing in a tidy income, but in the mean time, a girl's got to eat. Allow me to ply my wares along with your ladies, and you can have half my take. Interested?"
Barhold looked her up and down for a long moment, then nodded.
"The boys are always interested in fresh me...ah, 'wares,'" he said. "You keep it discrete, mind you, and only on the grounds of the inn. I won't be inviting trouble from his Lordship."
"It's a deal," Tardaesha grinned, and held out her hand to shake on it.
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Katarina walked around the side of the inn to an outside pantry door. She glanced around to see if anyone was nearby, though truthfully, even if they had been it would be unlikely they would have given her a second glance. After all, delivery boys were a common sight around the Lord's Dalliance, and the circlet upon her brow allowed her a convincing disguise. Certain that the coast was clear, she slipped her picks from her sleeve and deftly opened the lock on the door, then darted quickly inside. The pantry was unoccupied, and she put her ear to the door that led into the wine closet. All quiet. Kat entered the small room and then through the door to the cellar. She had no trouble finding the spot on the wall that Barhold had touched the night before, and when she pressed it, the wall hinged open. Glancing around one last time, she slipped through and pulled the door shut behind her.
Beyond the door was a winding tunnel. Kat followed for some distance, perhaps even a mile or more, she could not tell. Eventually, it ended in a sizable vault that looked to be filled with several thousand days' worth of iron rations alongside barrels of potable water and other durable provisions. There was a ladder leading up to a trap door in the ceiling. Kat climbed it and pressed her ear against the wood. From the other side she could hear the clanging sound of metal on metal, and the voices of several men. She climbed back down and sat cross-legged on the floor, pondering. It seemed the rumor was true. She must be directly under the Tower. She decided to bide her time there for awhile.
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Earlier that morning, Lemmy had met the dwarves in the common room. They greeted him jovially, and introduced themselves again: Nalond, Brotil, Dwinuun, Grunni, Drukon, Hargrim, Farni, Munzad, Ketzad, Grigrim, and of course their leader Barnabus. Lemmy made them an even dozen. They set off towards the Tower, but as they left the taproom, Lemmy could hear Dakota, seated at the bar, whistling a familiar tune, one that started with the nonsense lyrics 'Hi Ho, Hi Ho.' Lemmy vowed to smother her in her sleep when he had a chance.
The dwarves entered the Tower through a small gate on the Aldencross side that was barred by a portcullis and a reinforced door. Beyond that was a large courtyard that was mostly utilitarian. The grass was short and the paths cobbled. A plain fountain burbled quietly to one side and several tonsured young men, dressed in the white robes of Iomedean acolytes, were busy cleaning it. A large keep sat in the middle of the courtyard, with two soldiers standing post outside its doors. Lemmy made a mental note of all that he witnessed. Barnabus Eisenbauch led them up a flight of stairs from the yard to the battlements, and then onto a bridge that spanned one-hundred feet from the walls to the gatehouse which faced the northern wilds.
"The Bridge of Death they call this," Eisenbauch said to Lemmy. "It overlooks another bridge down below. If an army were to get past the gatehouse, this would be the second line of defense. Archers could fire volleys and drop stones down onto the invaders. Got its name over a hundred years ago when a tribe of ogres attacked Balentyne and managed to break the portcullis. The commander of the Tower at the time left the drawbridge down and the ogres rushed out onto the bridge. That's when the archers let loose, and within a minute not a single ogre survived!"
"Fascinatin' bit'o engineerin', that," Lemmy grinned.
The bridge led to the second level of the gatehouse, where a single door was propped open. Inside was an open room that spanned the entire level. Archer slits lined the walls, and two great cauldrons filled with heated sand stood poised above murder holes. Two stout winches were placed along one wall.
"Drawbridge, and portcullis," Eisenbauch indicated each.
'Fool,' Lemmy thought to himself. 'Just keep talkin'."
Four soldiers were on duty in the room, and it was obvious that the outer door was kept open due to the chamber's stifling heat. A pair of ladders led to trapdoors in the ceiling, and there were also two trapdoors in the floor. Four of the dwarves peeled off at this point and began fussing with the winches as well as the cauldron trolleys. Eisenbauch and the others, motioning for Lemmy to follow, climbed one of the ladders to the rooftop.
The open-air, crenellated roof of the gatehouse was dominated by siege engines and munitions of war. The banner of Talingarde fluttered from a flagpole mounted in the center of the west battlements. Two fearsome ballistae pointed out across the rocky approach to the gatehouse. They were loaded with great barbed missiles that conveyed the message 'death to any who approach unbidden.' Beside each ballista was a rack full of ammunition for them, at least fifty shots apiece. Two stone-droppers overlooked the portcullis of the gatehouse, which would allow rocks from great troughs to be hurled down upon the heads of approaching invaders. The troughs were loaded down with old masonry from various building projects. Four soldiers stood guard around the roof, overseen by a craggy-faced captain who glared sternly at the dwarves as they emerged, especially the newcomer.
"That's Captain Barhold," Eisenbauch muttered to Lemmy. " 'Iron Sam,' his men call him. Tough old bastard that one. Eyes in the back of his head."
"Barhold?" Lemmy asked. "Like the innkeeper?"
"His brother," Eisenbauch explained. "No love lost there, though. Anyway, this'll be your post for as long as your working for me. These crenellations have seen their better days. Gonna take years to get'em back in shape."
"Aye, aye," Lemmy nodded. "Be good to get some stone back under me hands."
Everything was going as planned, he thought.
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Roger also went to work at Balentyne Tower that morning. He had used his circlet to make himself appear as a nondescript, rather dull-witted human, and had joined the procession of day laborers making their way up to the fortress. They entered the Tower through a set of large, solidly-built double doors at the base of the crag upon which the structure stood. The doors were open and two soldiers stood watch there, though they seemed less than enthusiastic about their duty. They only stopped those carrying large bundles, searching for weapons or contraband, then waving them through along with the rest. The doors gave onto a large passage that seemed to serve as a main thoroughfare for the lower level. Various denizens of the Tower came and went through the busy artery. Another half-dozen guards waited inside, and they herded the workers through various doors. Roger was assigned to work in the kitchens, hauling dry goods from the pantry and storeroom. Over the course of the day, he took note of a wooden stair-ladder that led to a trapdoor from the main kitchen, and by listening in on various conversations, learned that it led to the great hall of the keep itself.
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Tardaesha spent most of the day in the outhouse behind the inn. She was not sick. In fact she'd never felt better, though if anyone had chanced to see her, they would have thought she'd gone mad. She had pried the seat off of the jakes, revealing the foul-smelling, fly-infested latrine below. Then, she stripped naked and leaped down into the pit. Once inside she set about smearing her entire body, head to toe with excrement, even going so far as to actually ingest some of the filth. She had no fear of making herself ill. She had grown in her power and devotion to Asmodeus, and knew that she was no longer susceptible to the ravages of disease. That did not mean she couldn't spread such pestilence to others, however...a veritable bringer of plague...
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Katarina had lost track of time down in the darkness of the vault, but when she finally heard the noises above her die away, she assumed it must be late afternoon or even dusk. Cautiously, quietly, she climbed the ladder and listened for several minutes at the trapdoor before lifting it open just a fraction. The large, circular room she saw appeared to be a combination armory and smithy. Weapons, shields and breastplates, all bearing the marks of the Talirean military, lined the walls, and a large forge stood in the center. It was empty of soldiers, though, and that was more important. Kat climbed out of the door and closed it behind her.
A single door led from the room, but a staircase spiraled up one wall. She went first to the door, listened, then pulled it open. An empty hallway lay beyond, with several closed doors on either side. She closed the door back, and began climbing the stairs. As she neared the top, she heard voices and paused, sinking into the shadows. The room above was tall and open, with six large banners hanging on the walls. Another set of stairs continued to climb, while one door stood closed on the far side. Two soldiers stood in idle conversation in the middle of the room. Kat eavesdropped for several minutes, but their talk was banal and trivial. She drifted back downstairs to the armory. She'd seen enough for now. The secret tunnel did exist, and led into the heart of Balentyne. She needed to get back to her comrades and inform them of all she'd gleaned.
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That evening, cleaned up and dressed to kill, Tardaesha found plying her trade laughably easy. She had targeted a particular soldier: a homely, obese, acne-ridden youth by the name of Porkins. He had been sitting glumly in a corner while his mates downed drinks and groped wenches. He'd looked shocked when Tardaesha sat down with him and asked him to buy her an ale. Tripping over his own words (and feet), he'd hurried to comply before this vision of loveliness vanished before his eyes. By the time he'd ordered a second and third round, Tardaesha knew she could have asked him to steal from his own mother if that's what it took to get her into bed. She led him upstairs, emptied his purse for him, and proceeded to give him a night he would never forget in the short amount of time remaining to him.
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Day 3
The town was abuzz the next morning due to the arrival of Ye Merrie Men, a troupe of actors led by the famed thespian William Marcus Marlowe, the so-called Bard of Barrington. They would be performing "The Fall of Ameberlyn," a rousing tale of how love and greed brought down a great city state, in the Great Hall of Balentyne that very night. It promised to be well-attended, and Barnabus Eisenbauch invited Lemmy to go with the rest of the engineers. The old dwarf said that every soldier that wasn't on duty, all of the captains, the servants, the priests, the Lord Commander, and even the reclusive magister would be present.
'How about that?' Lemmy thought.
When he informed the others of this turn of events, Kelvin was thoughtful.
"The matter of the rookery has been weighing on my mind," he said. "Whatever our plan, if the Tower manages to get a message out, then that means reinforcements, which would not bode well for the Fire-Axe, nor us. I believe that should be our first priority, and tonight might just be the perfect opportunity."
"What do you have in mind," Tardaesha asked.
"Timeon told you that the raven-master was a recluse," Kelvin replied, "so it may be that he will not go to the play. It doesn't really matter one way or the other. Kat and I will have our best chance of sneaking in through the tunnel tonight while everyone is occupied. If this Mad Martin is unfortunate enough to be in the rookery, then he will meet the same fate as his pets. The only uncertainty is where exactly the room is located."
"While I was workin' up on the gatehouse roof," Lemmy offered," I saw lots of black birds flyin' in and out of the top of the south tower."
"Good man!" Kelvin clapped him on the shoulder. "I knew there was a reason we let you live!"
Lemmy scowled.
"So it's settled," Kelvin continued. "Lemmy and Roger will attend the performance tonight and be our backup should things not go as planned. Kat and I will be in and out with no one the wiser if all goes well. By tomorrow morning, Balentyne Tower will be officially incommunicado."
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By nightfall, the common room of the Lord's Dalliance was empty. Anyone who was able had gone to the performance. After all, it wasn't every day that such a notable troupe came to town. Kat had no trouble getting back down into the cellar to the hidden tunnel. Kelvin, not so stealthy as his little sister, opted to travel under a spell of invisibility instead. With Katarina leading the way, they covered the mile-long distance relative quickly and emerged into the storage vault. Kat made sure the armory was unoccupied, and then they climbed the ladder and headed for the stairs leading up into the south tower. Halfway up, Kat paused and uncorked a small flask that Tardaesha had given her. Quaffing it, she faded from view. The invisible siblings entered the flag room above the armory, where two different soldiers were grousing about missing the evening's festivities. Kelvin wanted to assure them that they wouldn't be bored for long, but held his tongue and moved as quietly as he could to the second set of stairs.
"Are you still with me?" Kat whispered over her shoulder.
"Right here," Kelvin answered. "What do you make of this?"
The third floor of the tower had arrow slits adorning its entire outer wall. Wooden racks contained dozens of quivers of arrows. It was lit by two sconces, and another set of stairs continued on the far side.
"An archer's strongpoint," Kat said. "This give me an idea for later."
They continued to the top floor of the tower where the stairs ended in a small guardroom that was currently unoccupied. A heavy iron door with a stout lock stood in the far wall. Kat leaned against it for several moments.
"Birds," she whispered. "Lots of them. And there's someone in there talking as well. Only one person I think."
She fished out her picks and set to work on the lock. So familiar was she with her tools that she had no need to see them, invisible as they were, like the rest of her gear. She could work simply by touch and sound alone. In less than a minute she had the lock open.
"Ready?" she asked Kelvin.
"As I'm going to be," her brother replied.
Kat pulled the door open swiftly. The large room beyond was dim, foul-smelling, and full of bird droppings. Hundreds of black-winged ravens roosted in the rafters and in cubbies built into the walls, and standing in the midst of them was a wild-haired old codger dressed in a padded coat. Several ravens perched on his arms and shoulders, and he crooned softly to them like a mother singing to her babes. He started to turn when he heard the door open, but Kat sprang across the room in the space of a heartbeat. She plunged her dagger into his back and he gasped as she became visible, her eyes hard and cold. The ravens began cawing and flapping their wings in agitation. Slowly, Mad Martin's eyelids drooped until they closed, and he sagged to the floor, snoring.
"Well worth the price," Kat smiled as she wiped her blade clean.
"The dark elves do know their poisons," Kelvin agreed. "That was good thinking on your part to have Tiadora procure you some. Father would have been proud."
Kat's smile broadened as she leaned down and cleanly slit the raven-master's throat.
When the deed was done, Kat took several flasks of oil from her pack and began pouring it around the room while Kelvin started systematically snapping the necks of every bird he could get his hands on. While he finished that grisly work, Kat slipped back downstairs to the archer's nest and coated every quiver with more oil. When she was done, she took a torch from one of the sconces and tossed it upon the racks. Flames erupted instantly, and she quickly darted back upstairs.
"Done!" she called.
Kelvin nodded, wringing the necks of the last few ravens.
"Go to the window," he told her. "I'll be right there."
Kat obeyed, sitting on the sill while her brother began casting a spell. He conjured a sphere of fire the size of a melon and rolled it into the center of the room. The oil ignited with a loud 'whoomph,' and suffocating heat and smoke began filling the chamber. Kelvin ran to Kat, another spell on his lips. He disappeared from sight again.
"Jump!" Kat heard him shout, and she did not hesitate.
She leaped from the window, fifty feet above the ground, on a side of the tower facing the wooded slopes rather than the courtyard. A moment later, she heard Kelvin's voice casting again, and her descent suddenly slowed dramatically as she floated towards the ground gentle as a feather. As soon as her feet touched the earth, she dove for the shadowed shelter of the tree line, hearing Kelvin huffing along behind her. The siblings vanished into the gloom as smoke and flames began pouring from the upper levels of the tower.
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Lemmy was seated in the keep's Great Hall with the dwarven contingent, actually enjoying the performance, much to his surprise, when the signal horns began to sound. Instantly, all of the soldiers and staff were on their feet, their captains and the Lord Commander barking orders. Eisenbauch and the rest of the dwarves rose to follow them, and Lemmy went with them, a knowing smile concealed within his thick beard.
When the doors of the Great Hall opened, the orange glow of firelight spilled in from outside, and men began shouting and running. Lemmy reached the courtyard and saw that the top of the south tower was engulfed in flames.
"It's the rookery!" Eisenbauch exclaimed. "C'mon boys! We got us a fire to put out!"
Lemmy accompanied his colleagues and even joined in the bucket brigade, all the while knowing it was a futile effort, and more pleased by that knowledge.
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Day 4
The fire was all that anyone could talk about in town the next day. A terrible tragedy! It was rumored that it had started in the archer's nest, perhaps by an unsecured torch falling from its sconce. From there it had likely spread upwards to the rookery, killing poor Master Martin and all his birds. There would be an official investigation, and the soldiers who had been on duty in the flag room would likely be held responsible for dereliction. In any event, no members of the garrison were given leave from the Tower that day, and many of the townsfolk volunteered to go to Balentyne to assist with cleanup.
Ye Merrie Men packed up and left Aldencross that morning, as it was made abundantly clear by the Lord Commander that there would be no encore performance. Some even whispered that Lord Havelyn blamed the acting troupe for distracting his men from their work.
That evening, a memorial service was held for Martin Rayard in the choir hall of the Tower. Father Donnagin presided, and though no one had every really much cared for the eccentric raven master, the pews were full, as everyone realized what the loss of him and his birds meant for the Watch Tower.
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Day 5
Things began to get back to normal both in town and at the Tower, and it was on that day that Tardaesha first made the acquaintance of Captain Zacharias ("Call me Zack!") Eddarly. A handsome and rakish gallant, he was the only officer to ever frequent the Lord's Dalliance, and he had the reputation of being somewhat of a lady's man. His wardrobe befitted one more of noble bearing than a career soldier. He sat at his favorite table and drank, flirting with the bar maids, and generally being the life of the party. Tardaesha wasted no time in gaining his attention.
Still, despite her best overtures, it quickly became clear to Tardaesha that Eddarly was not interested in what she had to offer. Instead, all he wanted to do was moon about some woman named Kaitlyn.
"The poor girl," Eddarly said, shaking his head. "Her husband is a career military man. Cares only for his position, giving no thought for the lonely, neglected woman waiting for him at home."
"Umm hmm," Tardaesha nodded, stifling a yawn. "Why doesn't she just find another man?"
"Oh, a divorce would be too much of a scandal!" Eddarly exclaimed. "Her family would disown her."
"I didn't say anything about a divorce," Tardaesha winked.
A flush suffused the captain's face, and that is when she knew.
"Sooo," she asked, "do you know her husband?"
"We work together," Eddarly said, but added, "though I can't mention his name. That would be gossiping."
"Of course," Tardaesha smiled.
After Captain Eddarly departed, it did not take Tardaesha long to find out from some of the other soldiers that Kaitlyn just so happened to be the name of Captain Franz Mott's wife. Mott had a reputation among the men of being gruff, and dour...all business. It wasn't long after that for rumors to begin circulating among the guards, thanks to a few less-than-subtle hints dropped by Tardaesha, that Captain Eddarly might be offering something more than a shoulder to cry on to Captain Mott's lady. Somehow, these rumors spread to the dwarves as well, and to the day laborers who came and went from Tower. By that evening, the whispers had moved faster than the fire two nights past.
As the day drew to an end, and evening came on, the taproom of the Lord's Dalliance was not as filled as usual. Word was that several of the soldiers had fallen ill. There was even talk that Father Donnigan feared it might be cholera...
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Day 6
"The winches for the portcullis are in the same room as the sand cauldrons fer the murder'in holes," Lemmy said as the Knot gathered in their rooms for their morning plan-of-action conference. "Four guards on duty all the time."
Tardaesha nodded. "Yes, they are usually all from Timeon's company. He informed me that tonight he is supposed to be on duty, along with another acquaintance of mine, Private Porkins, who, I'm afraid, has been indisposed by sickness. So I think tonight would be a prime opportunity for us to engage in a bit of sabotage."
Later that evening, Kelvin placed spells of invisibility on Roger and Tardaesha, then Kat snuck them down to the cellar of the inn and into the secret tunnel. Timeon was waiting for them in the vault at the far end. He gave brief, but complete descriptions to Kat and Roger of the other two soldiers who were supposed to be on duty with him and Porkins that night. The pair of them used their circlets to make their appearances match those he described as closely as possible, while Tardaesha disguised herself as Porkins. The four of them climbed the ladder to the armory, and then walked up the stairs to the flag room. The two soldiers there nodded to them, but continued their conversation as the others passed through to the courtyard. They walked to the stairs leading to the battlements, and then crossed the Bridge of Death to the gatehouse.
"What are you lot doing here so early?" one of the on-duty soldiers asked when Timeon knocked on the door.
"Thought we'd do you lads a favor and let you off early," Timeon smiled. "But you'll owe us one down the road."
The guard peered at the others.
"Say, Porkins," he said, narrowing his eyes, "you're not looking so hot. Thought you was sick. And Tarley, can't say you're looking much better."
"We've both been down with the runs," Tardaesha put on a morose expression. "We're feeling a might better, but Father says might still be catching, so if I was you lot, I'd bugger off while you can afore you get the shites yourselves!"
The guard's face paled slightly, and he called to his companions.
"Come on, boys. Let's not look gift horses in the mouth."
Once they were gone, Katarina went to work quickly. She spent several minutes working on the winches, then moved to the cauldrons. Once she'd finished, she stood and brushed off her hands.
"There," she said. "That should do it. The portcullis can still be raised normally, but once it's up, it will jam in place. As for the cauldrons, I rigged their trolleys so they can't be tipped. No one will be the wiser until they try to use them."
"Well done," Tardaesha nodded. "Timeon, do you remember the plan?"
The squire nodded as well. "Yes. When the real relief crew comes, I'll just tell them I got here ahead of time and told the others to take an early night. Shouldn't be a problem."
"Good boy!" Tardaesha gave him a lingering kiss, leaving him flushed and a bit sweaty.
"We'll be off then," she said. "Until next time."
They retraced their steps, informing the soldiers in the flag room that Porkins had taken ill again, and they were returning him to the barracks.
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Day 7
It was cholera. No doubt about it. Father Donnagin had confirmed twenty cases already. They would be unfit for duty for at least three days, and would remain in quarantine for another week after that. One fifth of the garrison. Tardaesha was disappointed it wasn't more.
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Day 8
As the members of the 9th Knot sat for breakfast, a young squire came bursting into the common room from outside.
"They're fighting!" he shouted, and then charged back out again.
The patrons all looked at one another in confusion, then as one they jumped from their seats and headed outside.
More folk were streaming out of their homes, and several soldiers ran with them. They were all headed for a small field, where a sizable crowd had already gathered.
"Well, well," Dakota smiled as she pushed through the throng. "Looks like someone's been telling tales out of class."
Tardaesha and the others moved up beside her to see what she was talking about. Two men faced off in the center of the field. The younger one held a longsword in one hand, while the older man gripped a great-sword with both of his. It was Captain Eddarly and Captain Mott. Dueling. Nearby, a young woman wailed, pleading with them both to stop. Tardaesha could only assume it was Kaitlyn. She put one hand over her mouth to hide her grin. The two soldiers clashed, Mott clearly the stronger, rushing in headlong and bashing with his heavier blade. Eddarly was nimble, however, and managed to side-step the deadly blows. At first he seemed content with merely fending off or staying out of reach of Mott, hoping to tire the older man out, but it became quickly apparent that Mott was not going to let up. Eddarly was forced to go on the offensive. He fought more like a fencer, thrusting and parrying, compared to Mott's battering ram approach. Finally, as Mott raised his sword above his head, Eddarly darted forward and thrust his sword through the other captain's chest. Mott's eyes went wide, and Kaitlyn screamed. Blood frothed from his mouth and he fell heavily to the ground. The crowd went silent.
Within minutes, another dozen soldiers had arrived, accompanied by none other than the Lord Commander himself. He surveyed the scene somberly.
"Captain Eddarly," he intoned, "you are hereby under arrest, charged with dueling to the death. As you well know, this is a capital offense. Seize him!"
The guards rushed to comply, and despite Eddarly's protests of self-defense, hauled him away in chains. Others picked up Mott's body and carried it back to the Tower. Kaitlyn was left kneeling on the ground, her tears mixing with the blood of her murdered husband.
