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At the end of the week, Dave returned from his final day working at the South Gate. Arriving at Apple Square, he was surprised to see their whole crew eating at The Doubtful Dragon. A newly painted sign with a perplexed-looking dragon holding its chin in a clawed paw hung over the entrance.
“What’s up?” asked Dave as he sat down.
Looking around, Tandor whispered, “My quiet inquiries into building projects in Bigelow’s fortress have finally paid off. Assistant Steward Blackthorn is reworking some crumbling drainage channels inside the fortress. You’re to report there tomorrow morning.”
“Bigelow knows what I look like. What if he sees me?”
“I should be the one to go,” said Al.
Dave regretted his objection immediately. “No,” he said. “Tandor’s right. I’ve already had experience with stone work, so I know what to expect. I spoke too quickly. I’m the right person to go. How do I find out where Bigelow is holding Pam and Little Thomas?”
“You don’t need to do that. Just find a way to get Vixa and Alandro into the fortress. Use your work on the drainage system to do that. Don’t do it right away—Blackthorn is pretty thorough for a Steward—he may check up on you early to make sure you’re only there to work.”
Kree ah na koo, thought Dave. First Vixa and now Blackthorn checking up on me. The things I do for Al! But he felt a pang of guilt at his thoughts.
“Why are Vixa and Alandro even involved?” asked Dave.
“They’re professional roof rats,” said Tandor. “Once inside the fortress at night, they’ll be able to move all over, find out who’s there, and overhear conversations that will tell us where Pam and Little Thomas are.”
“And they’re doing this out of friendship?” asked Dave.
“No, I’m paying them handsomely. I have a bit of money in the Guild bank from before I was sent to the mines. Now, no more questions. Have something to eat, get cleaned up, and then I’ll tell you all I know about the fortress. Early tomorrow morning you need to go see Blackthorn, Dave. You can’t afford to be late.”
Shortly after dawn, Dave presented the parchment from Blackthorn, that was to be his entrance ticket, to the guard watching a small side gate at the fortress. With a grunt, the guard waved Dave through, and resumed his sentry position.
Inside, Dave looked around to get his bearings. The outer wall was about five meters thick and about twenty meters high. He could see the citadel that Tandor had told him about to the north, rising above the buildings. Even higher than the citadel wall, was the somber black keep, where Bigelow reportedly stayed.
Like all fortifications designed to withstand a long siege, the problem was finding a supply of water inside. According to Tandor, just inside the citadel wall was a spring that gave rise to a small creek. After flowing out under the citadel wall via an underground channel to a pool, it drained and flowed through the fortress to the town and then to the escarpment and on into the depths of Sheol. Rain water from the fortress drained into this creek. All Dave had to do to find Blackthorn and the building crew would be to follow the street drains to the underground creek.
He found the first drainage outlet ahead and began walking toward the citadel. No street followed the arrow-straight water channel directly, so Dave had to veer east or west and then double back to locate the next drain. A patrol stopped him once, but when Dave showed his parchment from Blackthorn, he was given a shove and sent on his way with a kick.
Around the next bend he saw the work party. He approached the foreman, who read his paper, and then sneered. “Lucky you. You get to climb into the hole and work with the crew underground. I’m sure the lazy sacks of refuse are doin’ nothin’ down there right now. I’d better see some action before the day is done.”
Dave touched his forelock in the slave’s salute and eased himself down the hole in the cobblestone street. He climbed down a broken channel for about five meters and joined a group of slaves standing around at the edge of the creek. One slave banged two stones together to keep it from being too quiet.
“Do you want us all to get whipped?” asked Dave.
No one answered, but he could see their blank stares in the dim light.
Dave began clearing the rubble from the drainage channel in preparation to lay some new stone work. He worked with alacrity for half an hour by himself, making reasonable progress. Finally, another fellow joined in. Mixing the mortar and selecting the stones to get a good fit, the end of the runoff channel began to take shape.
The work up top seemed to stop. Dave washed his hands briefly in the creek and opened his pack. Taking out a loaf of bread, he broke off a generous hunk for the fellow who had worked with him. “There’s some here for the rest of you, but you have to help.” Soon half the crew was working.
The drainage channel had really begun to take shape when Dave finally heard the call from up top for everyone to come out. Emerging, the slaves were chained together and led off to their quarters by a soldier. Blackthorn, a dark-haired man with a hook nose and a permanent scowl on his face, was there to inspect their progress. Unlike the foreman, he actually climbed into the hole.
After he emerged again, he looked Dave up and down and said, “You have made reasonable progress.” Turning to the foreman, he said, “Close it up.”
The foreman asked Dave to help him seal the opening. They rolled a large, heavy wooden disk over the opening and piled it high with brick and stones, leaving a small opening for water to drain out.
Now I know how to let Vixa and Alandro in, thought Dave. But not today.
Blackthorn sent the foreman away, and then paid Dave.
As Dave retraced his steps to the small gate, he was sure he heard footsteps behind him. But he didn’t look back. The guard at the gate didn’t even ask to see his parchment. Dave rounded a corner and then waited, looking back from the shadows. A man in servant’s livery appeared at the gate and spoke briefly with the guard. The guard pointed in the direction he had taken in to town.
So, I am being followed.
Dave walked slowly back to the Warren. When the streets became quiet, he could still hear the servant following him at a distance. Instead of going directly into the Entrance 21 safe house, he ambled into the broken piles of rubble that covered the Warren and waited. The servant did not follow. When he was certain it was safe to do so, Dave emerged from the rubble and entered the safe house.