Stalking Darkness

in, Thero returned to a worktable spread with open books. “Nysander’s downstairs,” he told them.
    “You’d better come down with us,” said Seregil as he started down the stairs.
    Thero shot Alec a look of surprise.
    “Watcher business, maybe.”
    Alec was pleased to see the hint of an expectant smile cross Thero’s face as he hurried to join him. He was a cold fish, and no mistake, but in the months since he’d helped secure Seregil’s release from prison, albeit grudgingly, Alec had come to feel a certain sympathy for the stiff young wizard, and respect. He was talented, and his arrogance seemed a shield for his own inner loneliness. As for the rivalry between him and Seregil, Alec had quickly learned that this was as much Seregil’s fault as Thero’s.
    They found Nysander in his favorite sitting-room armchair, the floor around him covered in charts of some sort.
    “Well, there you two are,” he exclaimed, looking up with a pleased smile. “How long has it been? Two weeks?”
    “Closer to four,” Seregil said. “Business has been slow lately, but we may have run across something interesting.”
    With Alec’s help, he quickly sketched out what they’d learned over the past two days. Thero sat a little apart, arms crossed, nodding silently to himself as he listened.
    “Dear me, that does sound suspicious,” Nysander said when he’d heard their report. “I seem to recall hearing that one of Lord Zymanis’ valets disappeared not too long ago. I had not heard of any stolen documents, though. Most curious. I assume you mean to make a closer investigation?”
    Seregil nodded. “Tonight, but we’ll have to be careful. So far Rythel is the only fish in our net. I don’t want to get the wind up him before we find out who’s behind all this.”
    “Have you looked into his lodgings?” asked Thero.
    “Not yet. Tenements are terrible for housebreaking—every room occupied and half the time no corridors, just a series of rooms letting one onto another. I thought we’d have a look at the sewer tunnel first, then proceed from there.”
    “Yes, that seems to be the logical course,” said Nysander.“How do you propose to get in with the tunnel so carefully guarded?”
    “The lower end is, where they’re still working,” said Alec. “But it shouldn’t be at the upper end, where they started. There’s no need, since the grates are fixed and they started at the top and worked down toward the lower city end. Seregil figures there must be at least five or six between the city wall and the sea.”
    “Anyone planning to bugger about with any of the grates later on would have to do them all,” Seregil added. “I know of an access passage near the south wall that should lead down to the head of the channel. If we can get to it from this end, we should be able to find out what they’ve been up to.”
    “When will you go?” asked Nysander.
    “Tonight seems as good a time as any,” replied Seregil, standing to go. “I’ll let you know if we need any help.”
    “Luck in the shadows,” said Thero as he passed.
    Seregil raised an eyebrow in mild surprise, then touched a finger lightly to one of the scratches on Thero’s neck. “And to you.”

17
G ATE R UNNING
    T amír the Great’s builders had laid down the sewers of Rhíminee before a single building was constructed, thereby sparing the new capital the unpleasant and often unhealthy filth common to most large cities. So extensive was it, and so often modified and enlarged to accommodate the growth of the city over five centuries, that now only the Scavenger Guild knew the full extent of it. Even among the Scavengers, most knew only the section that they maintained, and they guarded their knowledge jealously.
    Alec and Seregil waited until the second watch of the night before making their way to the southern ward of the city. Though armed, they went cautiously, fading silently into alleys or doorways whenever a Watch patrol happened by.
    The entrance they’d targeted was located in a small square behind a block of tenements by the south wall of the city. Half-covered by an unkempt clump of mulberry bushes, the low, iron-strapped door was set into the wall itself. The small grate near the top of it reminded Alec uncomfortably of a prison door, but he kept this to himself as they set down the torches and pry bars they’d brought with them.
    He stood behind Seregil and held his cloakout with both hands to hide the light of his