“What he did with her doesn’t mean a damn thing to me.”

“Sure. Anything you say,” he replied tauntingly.

Varena silently watched Norreen and her features started to turn red.

“Once we get him out of here my obligation’s done,” Norreen snapped. “He’s yours if he means that much to you.”

“I said I wasn’t interested.”

“Why don’t you just bid on him?” Hammen sniffed.

“Shut up,” both of them snarled simultaneously.

From the grate overhead a distant roaring cry broke out and was picked up, rolling closer. Footsteps could be heard, then more shouting, and finally the distinctive sound of crossbows snapping.

Suddenly there was a snuffling sound, a deep-throated breathing that echoed in the tunnels. A low, throaty growl erupted.

“Mastiffs,” Norreen whispered.

“There’s something down there,” a voice cried.

“Pull the grate!”

Norreen reached for her blade.

“It’s set into the stone and it’s too narrow to get through.”

“Well, damn it, find a way to get in; they’re down there!”

Varena leaned over Garth, pressed her hands on either temple, and, leaning over, whispered softly into his ear.

He stirred, groaning softly. She whispered again.

With a cry he tried to sit up, and she clamped a hand over his mouth.

“They’re down there, they’re down there!”

Garth looked about wildly and Varena kept her hand firmly grasped over his mouth. Suddenly she leaned over, removed her hand, and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Hammen, in spite of his fear, fought to suppress a chuckle at the flash of anger on Norreen’s face.

The terror in Garth’s eyes subsided and Varena leaned back. Reaching over to one of the oilskinned bundles, she opened it up, drew out his satchel, and pulled it over his shoulder.

“Where am I?” He recoiled as more shouts echoed from above.

“We got you out of the dungeon,” Norreen whispered, moving to kneel by him.

“How?”

“Hammen figured it out.”

Garth looked over at Hammen, who was kneeling behind Norreen. The old man said nothing, his eyes filled with concern.

Garth reached out and touched him lightly on the shoulder and Hammen lowered his head.

Wordlessly he looked at Varena and Norreen and nodded a thanks.

“Well, now that this reunion’s over, I’d suggest we get out of here,” Hammen whispered, trying to suppress a sniffle.

He scurried past Garth, moving up the tunnel. Norreen helped Garth to his feet, ready to grab him if he started to collapse.

“I’m all right,” Garth whispered as her hand shot out to steady him and, bending low, he followed Hammen.

They continued up the tunnel, scurrying quickly past a side channel that echoed with voices and the distant growling of a dog. Hammen turned down another line, then turned right again, and finally came to a stop.

“This is the turn,” he whispered.

Varena paused, looking to where Hammen pointed.

“It comes out behind the street of the money changers. It’s an empty courtyard. After the last fire swept the city, they changed the street so it’s no longer used. Scale over the wall, head east, and you’ll come up behind your House. You should get through in the confusion.”

Without a word, Varena started up the tunnel and then paused and looked back.

“Garth.”

“Yes.”

“Get out of the city. Give it up. I don’t know what it is you’re after; I don’t want to know. Just get out. If you stay and we have to fight, you know I won’t hold back. My sessan will not allow it.”

Garth smiled and said nothing.

“Benalish, he’s yours now. Get him out.”

“I don’t take gifts from an Orange hanin,” Norreen replied haughtily.

Varena laughed and disappeared up the tunnel.

From the direction they had just come, the baying of mastiffs echoed.

“Let’s go,” Hammen said, and, turning, he led them into a narrow tunnel opposite the direction Varena had taken. The tunnel was so low that they had to crawl on hands and knees until Hammen finally stopped and pointed up. Overhead was a grate at the top of a narrow shaft. Hammen turned and reached up. Grabbing hold of a slippery outcropping of rock, he pulled himself up, shouldering the grate aside.

He climbed out warily and, crouching, looked around. The ruined courtyard was a jumble of fire-blackened stones tangled with a dense overgrowth of vines. Just on the other side of a tottering wall could be heard a wild commotion and exuberant shouts.

“One-eye, One-eye!”

Hammen motioned for the two to follow him up. Garth came next and then Norreen. Just as she cleared the grate a loud barking erupted from directly below.

“They’re out, they’re out!”

Garth threw the grate back over the hole while Norreen pushed a heavy boulder on top of it.

“Damn it, clear that grate!”

Hammen pointed toward a narrow fissure in the wall, which led out into the alleyway. Garth and Norreen started for it and stopped when they heard Hammen laughing.

He stood over the grate, relieving himself and an angry cursing exploded from below.

“Payback time,” Hammen announced savagely, and then, laughing, he followed his two friends out into the alleyway. As they reached the street Garth pulled his cape up around his head to cover his face and missing eye.

“The way out of the city is that way,” Hammen announced, pointing down the street, trying to be heard above the tumult of the crowds pushing around them.

“I’m staying,” Garth announced sharply.

“Damn it!” Norreen snarled.

He looked over at her and her protest fell silent.

“All right, we kind of figured that,” Hammen said. “The Bolk House is just around the corner.”

“How’d you know?” Garth asked.

“We just kind of assumed it.”

The three shouldered their way through the crowd, which was pushing and shoving, some of them moving toward the rioting in the Plaza, others moving to get away.

Reaching the side of Brown’s House, they edged along the wall and finally reached the Great Plaza.

A mad chaos was sweeping the square, tens of thousands of people shouting and laughing, taunting, as a knot of warriors swept past. Wherever there was a storm drain hundreds, thousands were gathered around, shouting encouragement as if One-eye were directly beneath them. Back and forth in the Plaza could be heard laughing cries, “He’s here, no he’s over here, no here!” Warriors and fighters were trying to battle their way through the mobs, which pelted them with whatever was handy.

In some sections of the Plaza open fighting was breaking out, while around the Great Palace of the Grand Master a solid wall of warriors was slowly moving forward to drive the mob back.

Garth pushed his way through to the edge of the brown paving stones which marked Brown’s half circle of territory in front of their House. A solid ring of fighters was drawn around the great semicircle to keep the crowd off their sacred land. But the mood was almost festive, the mob trading good-natured gibes with the fighters, the fighters obviously enjoying the humiliation the Grand Master was experiencing.

Garth edged up to the ring of fighters and looked around. Seeing what he wanted, he pushed his way through and came up directly in front of a towering bulky form.

“Naru,” he said quietly.

Hammen, groaning with despair, started to back away.

“I saved you for this?” he moaned.

“Naru!” This time Garth’s voice was more commanding.

The giant looked down at Garth and gradually recognition set in. His features turned from surprise to a stunned disbelief. Naru looked past him for a second as if wondering how he had thus appeared and then looked back again. This time his features were starting to contort with a murderous rage.

Garth, his hand in his satchel, pulled out a bundle and held it up.

“Fighter, this is your satchel. Some beggar stole it from you unfairly. I got it back and have been trying to return it. I even had to fight with the Grand Master to keep it safe.”