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Watch patrols coming together at a street-moot ahead and dodged aside. She had to
get aloft again before he saw where she went and
Then she saw it. A street over, behind a wall of old buildings that sprouted
balconies and rickety outer stairs above their shopfronts, beyond their lines of
dripping clothing imagine hanging clothes out to dry, in night-mists like this! and
water-cisterns . . . water-cisterns? Well, rainwater would almost have to be cleaner
than canal-water, and a little less salty. . . .
There was a high stone wall in superb condition with trees rising behind it. Some
sort of noble's walled garden, if Marsember was anything like Waterdeep. Yes, there
was the row of spikes most nobles seemed to think a wall needed, atop a stretch of
buttressed stone that must overtop a two-story building and run longer than six or
seven of the shops nearer to her.
Narnra stopped looking at the wall and hurried to get closer to it, looking now for
some way to get up onto it.
* * * * *
Durexter Dagohnlar drew himself upright with as much dignity as a naked, bound,
and overly fat man can muster whilst sitting on his own bedchamber floor and fixed
the Watchcaptain with a coldly disapproving gaze.
"There was no need to push past my wife and invade our home, sir," he said
stiffly, as his steward hastened to cut his bonds, "no matter how many overexcited
servants came running to summon you. No need at all. I that is to say we " he
amended hastily, catching sight of the dagger-laden look his wife was favoring him
with, from behind the Watchmen, "Starmara and myself, ahem, vanquished a very
old foe here this night a foe who came to slay us with magic but was forced to
flee. I'll not reveal his name even to War Wizards, because uttering it will awaken
some very dangerous spells he left behind. So let's just forget th "
"You can write it down for me, then, Lord Master Dagohnlar," the Watchcaptain
said calmly, the mouth under his grizzled mustache carefully expressionless but his
eyes every bit as wintry as the merchant's. "To save the strongest War Wizards in
the city the time 'twill take to come and empty your mind of everything of interest to
the security of the city . . . and adherence to all of our laws."
Durexter opened and closed his mouth in trapped bafflement for a few moments
then said triumphantly, "I'm sorry, Watchman, but I can't write. I never learned
how."
The Watchcaptain didn't bother to order his men to step forward and forcibly take
Durexter Dagohnlar into custody. He was too busy rolling his eyes. His men moved
forward anyway, their snorts of derision almost as loud as those from various
gawking servants.
Starmara Dagohnlar, whose sidle toward the door had already ended in the firm
grip of a Watchman, sighed and said loudly, "My apologies, Watchcaptain. Our
enemy's spells must have affected my husband's wits."
"Indeed, Lady Dagohnlar," the officer agreed politely as Durex-ter was gagged
with his wife's discarded nightrobe and hustled to the door. "How many decades
ago did they take effect?"
* * * * *
Glarasteer Rhauligan was no longer in anything remotely resembling a good mood.
He'd lost a lot of blood, was in great pain, and thanks to the needs of the Mage
Royal and this little fool of a thief now lacked any swift means of quelling that. The
hasty violence he'd just been forced to do to a small but enthusiastic band of
launderers had done nothing to help matters, but at least he was now largely
dry thanks to a lot of formerly clean clothing that was now, unfortunately, smeared
and stained with his blood and was now sporting a bandage of sorts: a very large
someone's freshly laundered bloomers tied around the wound in his shoulder.
It had all taken far too long, and if that little bitch had managed to give him the slip
whilst. . .
Rhauligan reached the street, where a man lay groaning and twisting outside the
laundry door, ignored him as being in no condition to have seen where Narnra
Shalace had gone, and glared around in all directions. Twas bad enough having to
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