The Hidden City

crashing around.’
    ‘I’m not trying to be offensive,’ Mirtai said softly to Talen, ‘but I don’t see what good it’s going to do us to have you inside the cell when the fighting starts and half a dozen Cyrgai rush into the cell to kill Ehlana and Alcan.’
    ‘It’s on accounta the fact that they ain’t a-gonna git in the cell, Dorlin’,’ he said with an outrageous grin. ‘The door’s locked.’
    ‘They’ve got a key.’
    ‘Give me about a half a minute with the lock, and their key won’t fit. They won’t get in, trust me.’
    ‘Are there alternatives?’ Bevier asked.
    ‘Not in the amount of time we’ve got left before it starts getting light,’ Sparhawk replied with a worried glance at the eastern horizon. ‘Kalten, go up and have a look at that grating.’
    ‘Right.’ The blond Pandion climbed up to the small window, took hold of the ancient iron lattice in both hands and started to heave on it. Crumbs and fragments of mortar began to shower down on the rest of them.
    ‘Quietly.’ Mirtai hissed at him.
    ‘It’s already loose,’ he reported in a hoarse whisper. ‘The mortar’s rotten.’ He stopped wrenching at the bars and leaned closer to the window. ‘Ehlana wants to talk to you, Sparhawk,’ he called down softly.
    Sparhawk climbed back up to the window. ‘Yes, love?’ he whispered into the darkness.
    ‘What are you planning, Sparhawk?’ she murmured, her voice so near that it seemed he could almost touch her.
    ‘We’re going to pull the bars loose, and then Talen’s going to crawl through the window. He’ll jam the lock so the people outside can’t get into the cell. Then the rest of us will rush the guards. Is Zalasta out there anywhere?”
    ‘No. He and Ekatas went to the temple. He knows that you’re here, Sparhawk. He sensed you somehow. Santheocles has men searching the city for you right now.’
    ‘I think we’re ahead of them. I don’t believe they realize that we’re already up here.’
    ‘How did you get up here, Sparhawk? All the stairways are guarded.’
    ‘We climbed up the outside of the tower. When do those guards out there start stirring around?’
    ‘When it begins to get light, usually. They cook what passes for food around here in the guardroom. Then a couple of them bring breakfast to Alcan and me.’
    ‘Your breakfast might be a little late this morning, love,’ he whispered with a slight grin. ‘I think the cooks might have other things on their minds before long.’
    ‘Be careful, Sparhawk.’
    ‘Of course, my Queen.’
    ‘Sparhawk,’ Mirtai called up softly. ‘Xanetia’s back.’
    ‘I have to run now, dear,’ he whispered into the darkness. We’ll have you out of there shortly. I love you.’
    ‘What a lovely thing to say.’
    Sparhawk quickly climbed back down to the parapet. ‘Welcome back, Anarae,’ he greeted Xanetia.
    ‘Thou art in a peculiar humor, Anakha,’ she replied in a slightly puzzled tone.
    ‘I just had a chat with my wife, Anarae,’ he said. ‘That always brightens my day. How many guards will we have to deal with?’
    ‘I do fear me that they number some score or more, Anakha.’
    ‘That could be a problem, Sparhawk,’ Bevier noted. ‘They’re Cyrgai and none too bright, but twenty of them might give us some trouble.’
    ‘Maybe not,’ Sparhawk disagreed. ‘Aphrael said that there are only three rooms up here—the main room, the cell where Ehlana and Alcan are, and the guardroom. Was she right, Anarae?’
    ‘Indeed,’ she replied. ‘The cell and the guardroom are here on this north side. The main room is on the south, overlooking the Temple of Cyrgon. I did glean from the sleepy thought of such Cyrgai who were awake that this ultimate tower is the customary retreat of King Santheocles, for he doth take some pleasure in surveying his domain from the parapet—and above all in receiving the adulation of his subjects in the city below.’
    ‘Stupid,’ Mirtai muttered. ‘Doesn’t he have anything better to do?’
    Xanetia smiled faintly. ‘Much else would be quite beyond him, Atana. His guardsmen, limited though they themselves are, do hold their King’s understanding in low regard. But his wits, or lack thereof, are of little moment. Santheocles is the descendant of the royal house, and his sole function is to wear the crown.’
    ‘A hat-rack could do that,’ Talen noted.
    ‘Truly.’
    ‘Do the guardsmen have any kind of set routine?’ Bevier asked.
    ‘Nay, Sir Knight. They do