Buster led the fugitives at a hurried pace through Hazar's dungeon. He negotiated the darkened corridors with a sureness bred of many hours of studying illicitly copied plans. Grantin lost all interest in asking how their release was effected upon spying the first of the guards' bodies still leaking blood. Just beyond a bend in the corridor two figures appeared, but Buster ignored them. As they passed Grantin was able to identify the hunched forms of two Grays scrubbing a line of stain from the flagstone floor. Grantin's eyes followed the direction of the smear and saw that it led to an opening in the grime-encrusted wall. Obviously the body of a wounded Gray had been dragged back into a hidden entrance.
Grantin increased his pace until he reached Buster's side then whispered into the old Gray's ear:
"There was an exit back there; why didn't we take it? Why don't we escape while we can?"
"You couldn't. You wouldn't fit. We didn't have enough time to enlarge the tunnel. The only thing we can do is make for an old cavern under the foundations of the northwest wall. Now be quiet! We must go up to the street level, waylay the guard, then make our way as best we can around the First Circle to the Gate of Mammon."
Buster increased his gait to a limping, pain-ravaged sprint. In a few minutes the fugitives had reached the end of the corridor. Ahead were bare stone walls. At their left a twisting spiral staircase led to the ground level.
Buster climbed the first few stairs and halted until the rest had crowded around the bottom of the well. Putting his finger to his lips, he pantomimed his intention to eliminate the guard. Buster, however, was not obeyed. As the old Gray adjusted the hem of his tunic so that it covered the dagger's hilt. Castor climbed to his side and removed the knife. Buster sought to regain the blade, but Castor pushed back his hand and shook his head to indicate that the old Ajaj should remain with the others. Without waiting for agreement Castor loped noiselessly up the steps, followed a few paces behind by the other four.
When it had made one complete revolution of the spiral, the stairwell opened upon an identical hallway, this one also deserted. Castor motioned to his companions to follow. Castor maneuvered up the last steps with the greatest caution until he was able to peek over the edge of the wall. Another corridor dead-ended to the right. Across from the stone spiral, a short passage led to a guard post, then down several steps to a heavy door, presumably giving entrance to the First Circle.
Taking a deep breath. Castor strode directly up the stairs, across the hallway, and down to the guard. In this predawn hour the soldier was sleepy, more so than usual because of the extra duty. Castor approached within five feet of his post before he was noticed.
"Excuse me, my lord," Castor began before the guard could challenge him. "I have been charged to deliver a special message, but somehow I have become lost. If you could look at the writing on the paper perhaps you could give me directions." Castor set about patting his pockets as if in search of the document. "I had it here a moment ago-yes, here it is in my belt. If you would just bend over, my lord… it seems to be stuck."
Castor grasped the dagger's hilt where it rode his left hip beneath the cover of his tunic. The guard bent forward, curious as to the nature of the Gray's errand. When Castor could stall no longer, he whipped out the blade and swung it upward in a semicircular arc. The tip sliced effortlessly through the guard's bared throat. The Gogol slumped to the floor without making a sound. Castor wiped the blade on the soldier's sleeve, then ran back to the stairway and excitedly motioned for the fugitives to advance.
The five sprinted across the hallway and down the short corridor and, using the guard's keys, slipped through the door. Once outside Castor re-locked the portal and hid the key ring in a pile of trash. The streets were dark, but the ribbon of sky above them showed a faint reddish hue, presaging Pyra's imminent appearance. Since the outer battlements were the most likely to be patrolled, the five crept along single-file as close as possible to the edge of the outer wall.
Their route required them to pass by Lord Bolam's Gate of Lust. If the guards were alert there, it might be impossible to pass. Castor and Buster would probably have no problem. Even Grantin and Mara might be able to brazen it out, but Chom's form could never be disguised or excused. Keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Castor led the party to within twenty yards of Bolam's gate. His surveillance revealed two well-armed and alert attendants. Castor slipped back to consult with the others.
"Two guards, and wide awake," he whispered to the fugitives.
"Maybe we should go back the other way," Mara suggested, but already Buster was shaking his head.
"Look at the sky. Pyra has begun to rise. It is too late for that. We have only a few minutes to get past."
"What if we just walked by and ignored them? Perhaps they wouldn't stop us," Grantin suggested.
"No. I am certain they would find my extra pair of arms an irresistible distraction," Chom replied. "The obvious answer is for the four of you to go ahead while I will use another route and meet you at our destination." Without pausing to consider his own self-interest, Grantin surprised himself by blurting out an immediate no. Buster threw up his hands in bewildered defeat.
"A diversion might work," Castor said as he studied the rapidly lightening sky. "The four of us could divert the guards' attention. The Fanist might be able to slip past the opening without being noticed."
"Unlikely," Buster whispered, "but since I do not have a better suggestion, and since it is going to be daylight in a few more minutes, we may as well try it."
A plan was hastily agreed upon. The Ajaj and the humans set out, leaving Chom to creep as close as possible to the point where the wall was broken by the Gate of Lust.
Castor and Buster led the way, with Mara and Grantin following a few paces behind. The guards heard their approach several seconds before the four became visible. Grantin and Mara swung into view, then stopped and examined all aspects of the small plaza that fronted on the gate. Directing the Ajaj to walk in front of them and arguing loudly with Grantin, Mara approached the guards.
"Well, where are they?" she demanded of the soldier who came forward to meet them.
"Where are who, my lady?"
"What the lady means, guardsman, is, you see, we were expecting-"
"-I know what I mean. Stop pampering these dolts! We are here for Lord Hazar's shipment. Where are they?"
"I know of no shipment for Lord Hazar, my lady."
"Incompetents, fools…!"
"I'm sorry, soldier. Please excuse the lady. She is very tired. It has been a long night, and now this special duty… This is the Lady Mara, Lord Hazar's chief enchantress, and… well, if the truth be known, he was less than pleased with certain of the companions with which he was provided. He roused my lady here and demanded that she immediately bring him the new shipment for his inspection. I am Grindle, one of my lord's under-apprentices. Since my Ajaj and I had an early errand at Topor's market we agreed to travel a bit out of the way and accompany Lady Mara."
"Shut up, you yellow-spined fool! That's why you arc only an under-apprentice. Come over here and look at this and you will learn something." Mara strode past the guards and walked to the closed inner panel of the gate.
"Look at this, just look at this," she said, pointing at the iron-reinforced timbers.
"My lady, no one is allowed to approach the gate," the guard ordered as he turned away from the First Circle and hurried to restrain Mara from touching the panel.
"How dare you lay hands on me, you oaf!" Mara shouted as she elbowed the guard in the stomach.
Now the second watchman came running. Together both struggled to remove Mara from the forbidden zone. As they wrestled a blurred gray-brown shadow sped across the small plaza and merged with the other shadows on the far side of the gate.
"Unhand me, unhand me! Very well, I shall leave you and your miserable contraption, but I warn you, Lord Hazar will hear of this ill treatment." Mara broke free from the soldiers and stalked off toward the center of the First Circle.
"I am sorry. You must forgive her," Grantin reassured the guards. "She will calm down in a few minutes. We will continue on around the circle and down to the market. The walk will do her good. She can come by again on her way back to see about Lord Hazar's shipment." Grantin trotted off and made a show of attempting to placate Mara.
Thirty feet past the edge of the gate Mara and Grantin exhaled a sigh of relief, veered to the edge of the wall, and increased their pace almost to a run. A few minutes later they approached their destination. Buster called a halt. On the far side of the street stood an alcove deeply recessed into the wall. At its back could barely be seen a worn plank door. Following Buster's lead, the escapees slipped into the recess while the Gray, using a tool which he carried slung inside his trousers, began to work on the lock. A few seconds later there sounded a metallic tinkle, followed by the noise of splintering wood. They bolted inside the darkened opening, and Chom used three of his four arms to force the door closed.
"Everyone stand still until I can find a light." Rustles and scrapes sounded in the shadowed chamber. The sounds of Buster's rumblings ceased as a dim green radiance glimmered in the far corner of the room. Grantin could see barrels, bales, packages, canisters, and boxes lining the chamber's walls. Obviously it was an infrequently used storeroom. Buster motioned the others to a point on the back wall opposite the window.
"Here,'' he whispered, pointing to an area piled high with wooden crates. "Under these crates the stones are loose. Beneath them is a metal plate which gives entrance to the cavern which leads to a cave in the hills a mile and a half northwest of the city. Hurry-we must move these boxes and be gone before the guards, at Bolam's gate make their report."
The fugitives began work on the crates in shifts, as there was room for no more than two persons at any one time. Mara and Grantin soon tired and took their places at the end of the line while Chom and Castor spelled them, the Fanist's extra pair of hands making up for the Ajaj's diminutive form.
"How did you get involved in all of this?" Grantin asked Mara. "You seem like such a nice person. I can't picture you drenched in blood in one of the Gogol sacrifices."
"My mother was a Gogol," Mara replied somewhat defensively. "And your father?"
"A Hartford, but being a Hartford did not mean that he was good any more than my being a Gogol means that I am bad."
"He was an evil man, then? Did he beat you? Is that why you came here?"
"No, he didn't beat me! What a thing to say! He… he loved me. I'm sure of it."
"And how did you end up back here? Did your mother kidnap you?"
"No, we just had to leave. My father threw my mother and me out. He was going to take me away from her. He hated her, so she brought me back here to the only place that was left for us."
"I don't understand. You say that he threw your mother and you out but that he also wanted to take you away from her. It sounds as though he wanted to keep you and just wished to be rid of her. What happened between them? Why did he want to throw her out?"
"I don't know."
"Well, he must have said something."
"My mother took me away before he could do the evil things that he was planning."
"I don't wish to butt into your private affairs, but in defense of myself and my fellow Hartfords, have you ever considered the possibility that your mother lied? Perhaps it was she who did not love your father and stole you away from him."
Mara's face contorted in a surprised expression, as if that possibility had never occurred to her. Just as suddenly a few seconds later she began to cry. Disconcerted by her tears, Grantin went back to the pile of crates and took over Castor's place.
"How much longer, do you think, until we get all of this out of the way?" he asked Buster, who, because of his crippled leg, now assumed the task of supervising the relocation of the boxes.
"With our four-armed friend here, perhaps only three or four minutes. I have almost come to believe that my scheme may work after all."
"Just the same, I'll feel better when we have left this accursed city behind."
With Buster trailing a few paces behind, Grantin walked back to Mara at the far end of the room. By now she had stopped crying and was attempting to wipe away the traces of her tears with her velveteen cuffs. In the background sounded the scrapes and thuds of Castor's and Chom's labors.
"Mara, I am sorry I made you cry. I shouldn't have interfered. Still, I have a favor I would like you to do for me."
"A favor? What is it?"
"You remember when you gave me this ring? Well, I'd like to take it off, but only you can remove it. It's a simple spell. I have it written down here. All you need do is read it and then pull on the ring."
"Remove the ring?" Buster hissed. "How will you do your magic without the ring?"
"I plan to do no more magic beyond a few elementary spells of self-gratification. This cursed ring has done nothing but bring me trouble. The sooner I am rid of it, the sooner I can return home and assume my normal station in life."
"But you must retain your powers-it is the only way the Gogols can be defeated. Mara can explain to you about Zaco's mine where the bloodstones are quarried. It is said that it is a place where in ancient times a meteor crashed into the earth and that the stones were formed as a result of the impact. Hazar will go there himself in a few days to pick up his last, shipment. When he has it his forces will be unstoppable. I have pledged my life and those of all my people to freeing you so that you could use the energy of the ring to prevent Hazar from completing his plan."
"How could I do such a thing? It is certain death."
"This is far more important than the life or death of any one person. All our lives are hostage to Hazar's plans."
"Well, it is not more important to me than my life, because it is the only one I am going to have. I've risked my skin enough times with Hazar and his deacons. Now someone else can fight this battle. I'm going home to my uncle's manor while I'm still in one piece. If you want the ring you are welcome to it."
"Can't you understand? It will not work for me. It will not even work for another human until he has been accustomed to it. You have worn it long enough now. You can use it. Even if we had someone else he would never become attuned to its forces in time."
"Buster, I want to thank you for saving my life, if in fact we get out of here alive, but I'm not going to put my neck back into the noose after escaping from this trap. You'll just have to think of another way to thwart Hazar's plans."
"There is no other way! We have risked everything to rescue you so that you can use the power of the ring against Hazar. It was on this basis alone that the decision makers authorized the attack. If you abandon us now, Hazar will slay half the tribe."
"Ever since I put on this ring I've been forced to do others' bidding. My uncle tried to cut off my hand. Bandits pursued me. Black sorcerers threw me into their dungeons, and now the Grays expect me to give up my life in a crusade of their own. Well, no more! Mara, if you please."
Buster looked on with frustrated impotence as Grantin motioned for Mara to commence the spell.
Reluctantly she held the ring with the tip of her thumb, index finger, and middle finger of her right hand and recited the incantation. With a gentle tug she freed the bloodstone. For a moment she looked at it strangely, then handed it back to Grantin, who, with no better use for it, dropped it into his pocket.
Buster's face was grim. With the removal of the ring all his plans were shattered. Grantin turned and saw that the last of the crates had been moved out of the way. Chom and Castor pulled the loosened stones from the floor. Mara wandered across the room to the window and idly stared out, searching the dawn-lighted street beyond. At the far right-hand edge of her vision a shape moved, then another, then another still. A squad of three soldiers came into view, then turned toward a door set into the outer wall on the far side of the street. The search for the fugitives had begun. Mara stood frozen for a moment, hypnotized by the spectacle, then turned back to the others.
"Soldiers!" she whispered. "They're making a door-to-door search. They're across the street now. They will be here in a minute or two. They will see the crates have been moved and find the passageway."
"Is there some way to stop them? Is there anything that we can do?" Grantin asked.
Mara put her arms around Grantin and stared solemnly into his face.
"Do you really believe what you said, about my mother lying to me, and about my father?"
"Mara, this is no time to-"
"-Because if you are right, then I do not belong here with the Gogols. I am really a Hartford and I should be doing everything I can to save my people."
Mara abruptly released Grantin and stepped over to the door.
"What are you doing?"
"I have a plan, another diversion. Go ahead without me. You must escape to thwart Hazar's plans."
Before anyone could move, Mara opened the panel and slipped outside.
"She will need some help," Buster announced as he limped toward the door.
"Buster, come back," Grantin hissed.
"It makes no difference. If you don't put on the ring and defeat Hazar, my people are lost in any event."
"Buster, come back! We can still escape through the tunnel."
"No," Buster said over his shoulder as he slipped out the door. "I do not wish to outlive my race."
Buster disappeared through the door and closed the panel from the outside. Chom and Castor redoubled their efforts to free the trapdoor. Grantin ignored them and hurried to the window. Outside, Mara crossed the street, putting distance between herself and the storeroom. Of Buster Grantin could see no sign.
Mara ducked past the doorway into which the soldiers had been recently admitted, then turned around and began walking back. She halted fifteen yards beyond the door and waited for the guards to reemerge. A few moments later the first soldier reappeared and Mara ran down the center of the street in full view of the guards. The first one leaped after her. In an instant a second soldier followed. She struggled in their grasp. An officer appeared but stood well back from the skirmish. He eyed Mara and searched the street in the direction from which she had come. In a flash of inspiration the officer looked across the First Circle directly at the barred window from which Grantin now observed the fight.
The officer turned and walked purposefully toward the storeroom door. He was halfway across the street when a bundle of fur darted from the shadows and collided with his marching form. Buster could not hope to reach the soldier's throat. As he charged he held the knife high in his right hand and aimed for the officer's stomach. But the Ajaj was tired and lame and the soldier keyed to a sharpness of senses and acute reaction.
The officer drew his own knife. The blade pierced Buster's torso even before the Gray reached him. It was only through his momentum that the Ajaj succeeded in reaching the guard. With his dying hand Buster planted his dagger deep in the officer's stomach.
Both fell to the dusty pavement, Buster dead and the soldier already losing consciousness. The guards saw what had happened to their commander and, convinced that the fugitives had avoided their initial search, dragged Mara back up the First Circle toward Hazar's quarters.
A groaning creak sounded behind Grantin. He turned to see Chom lift the iron door. Almost in a state of shock he stumbled forward and, gripped by the Fanist's four strong arms, felt himself being lowered into the darkness.