Date: Fri, 18 Jan 2013 06:42:13 +0000
From: Michael Offutt <kavrik@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Assassin's Apprentice Chapter 15 - Gay Science Fiction

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      "The Assassin's Apprentice" is told in first person present tense and
has been heavily edited.

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                                    *****

                                  Chapter 15

      We leave Black-Eyed Jack's following the curious little fellow to a
different warehouse down the street; it's packed with crates and
boxes. Wriln moves one of them aside. The light reveals a hole in the wall
that's four feet wide and barely sufficient for Logren's immense girth. The
furling gestures with his hands.

      "Down," he says. It's the first time I clearly understand a word. His
eyes brighten considerably when he regards me.

      Can he see in the dark? I think to myself. But before I can ask him,
he vanishes through the hole.

      I gaze into the darkness and see a light about fifteen feet down. But
the smell welling up from below nearly knocks me unconscious. Tethyr's
Teeth, have I become this much of a sissy?  Talen urges me to move despite
my reservation.

      "We can trust him," he says.

      Oh yeah, there's that too...the whole issue of trusting a known
traitor to his own guild. But I don't let my lover know that it's the smell
that's keeping me at bay.

      "If you say so," I utter.

      And with that, I leap into the darkness.

      My boots find a solid purchase in the dim ante-room, which I surmise
is where Wriln "hangs his hat." Talen lands next to me with the grace of a
cat.

      The only light stems from a small, fat candle. At first it's
disappointing. I secretly "hoped" all that light shone from his eyes. That
would have been cool. But Wriln is not cool...not in the least.

      All around the room are piles of junk. Bronze helmets, old paintings,
balls of colored string, and old sailing tarps. There are crates and
lanterns, bits of colored glass, and a few bottles of ink.  He hands me a
worn, black sack and motions for me to cover myself.

      Why does everyone always want me to cover my face? Am I that ugly?

      Admittedly, I've self-esteem issues, and it doesn't matter how much
Talen tells me that I look good because an inner voice says, "he's only
attracted to you for your fake confidence." In other words, he's obligated
to be nice.

      I swear under my breath and snatch the bag from Wriln noting that one
ISN'T handed to Talen.

      Typical.

      "He means for you to cover your blond hair," Talen advises.

      "Of course he does," I say somewhat acerbically to the short
man. "It's always the blond hair, right? Easiest excuse in the book."

      "Is something eating at you?" Talen asks me.

      "Not at all," I answer. I remove one of my knives and start to shape
it, and then borrow a bit of his string to tie the mask to my face.

      ~WHOMP!~

      Behind me, Logren crashes into the room like a bull in a china
closet. The noise makes my teeth rattle and almost makes me cut open my
thumb.

      The giant shrugs his shoulders helplessly, feeling the cold stares
from both me and Talen.  Even Wriln regards him with shock. How do I know?
All his hairs are standing on end, making him look like a huge porcupine.

      The little man turns away, picks up his candle, and moves further
into the room muttering to himself.  "Hyt ycome 'n abyde 'n snell," he
says. "Ycome...ycome."

      Talen moves in front of me and follows Wriln who's quickly
disappearing into the encroaching darkness. I cover my head and re-adjust
my katana. I look at Logren and wince visibly as the giant moves in behind
me, his boots seeking out noise like a kid playing in puddles after a
summer storm.

      Wriln heads toward a large, makeshift door and pulls it aside.
There's a narrow ledge, below which leans a rickety wooden ladder that
descends into an utter void. And Talen fearlessly jumps into the dark
without so much as a clue beforehand.

      Since when did he become the alpha male?

      I steel my nerve and glance down. I see nothing, but I hear his feet
land on something solid below.

      "It's a good distance," he cautions. "I'd guess about forty feet. And
there's some tricky footing so watch yourself."

      Wriln shakes his head and starts down the ladder. His light reveals
Talen standing upright in the mouth of a large tunnel that branches in
three directions. The ground's made from uneven stone slabs placed together
ingeniously at some ancient time in the past.  The workmanship of the gray
stone blocks is exquisite and is unchanged despite the passing of
centuries.  From the edge of the wall to the ground is probably closer to
thirty feet. I laugh inside realizing that six inches to Talen is NOT six
inches to me.

      I jump and land next to my boyfriend. Then together, we wait for
Logren and Wriln to catch up to us.

      "Lordynges, listyn to Wriln," he says. "Counsell fyt good, quick I
het.  Leue to myt and wende for myt counsell."

      Talen translates almost immediately. "Wait for him to tell us where
to go."

      "Oh."  I consider the mole for a moment, wondering why he left the
guild here in Ladika.  Wriln brushes by us and selects a tunnel, his light
bobbing like a will-o-the-wisp.

      We follow into a maze of passages and tunnels underneath the city.
It's dry and surprisingly clean here, and Talen tells me that the city used
these tunnels in the past to store goods when pirates attacked the
harbor. When the regional government of Ventikor took over two centuries
ago, they erected a harbor wall which makes it impossible for ships to
attack the city directly. The tunnels went into disuse. Now, only
cutthroats and thieves know the entire extent of the labyrinth.

      "He says that deep elves have been building tunnels about three
levels lower than this one," Talen whispers into my ear.

      "Deep elves?" But before he can answer my question, Wriln tells him
something else, and Talen's face drains of color.

      "They're sacrificing humans, Kian, and eating their hearts."

      "Cannibalism?"

      He nods, "That's the word for it, yes."

      I suddenly realize just how oppressive the dark seems to be.

      Wriln moves forward and reveals a grate on the floor filled with
webs. He grabs it with his chubby fingers and moves the iron grate aside
creating an absolutely hellish storm of rust flakes and falling spiders.
Underneath is another shaft of pure darkness.

      I press my eyes shut for a few seconds and try to push away my phobia
of spiders. I fell into a nest of them once as a child, and I can still
feel them crawling across my face.

      The sound of rushing water emanates from below. Maybe one of the
tunnels collapsed and now allows water from the bay into the tunnel. In
either case, the sound calms my nerves.

      Talen turns to Logren and I. "Wriln says there's a ledge about forty
feet down. It's only two feet wide; we need to stay on it.  There's a
breach in the tunnel down there, and it's let sharks into the tunnels."

      I glance at Logren who seems at odds with himself. Either that, or
he's incredibly constipated. I'd hate to see the kind of turd a giant like
him would leave behind after a few days.

      "We'll go first and anchor some handholds for you," I tell
him. "It'll be slow going, that's all."

      Talen takes off his pack and uncoils a length of black silk rope. He
ties it off on a metal hook and then pounds the hook into the stone floor
with a mallet. He anchors two others in a similar fashion, just in case one
of them gives out. I stare into the depths of the hole in front of us and
my mouth drains of saliva.

      "Are you scared?" Talen asks me.

      "Of course not," I lie.

      Talen snickers under his breath.

      "I saw a shark pass by me once when I was little," I say. "My father
told me I got lucky because it probably ate someone already. If there are
sharks down there, you can bet that they're starving."

      Wriln hands Talen the candle.

      My friend tugs on the rope making certain it's secure. "I'll call up
if there's any trouble."

      "Wait," I say, "You can't go first."

      But before I can stop him, Talen drops into the hole, carrying the
candle in his left hand while rappelling with his other limbs into the
darkness.

      "I see the ledge," he announces.

      It sounds like he's in an echo chamber. But despite hearing it, I'm
afraid that I might lose him. Gods, is this what it's like being in love?
Am I going to worry like this on every mission?

      Talen's voice is flint-like and empty. "I'll have to swing over to
it," he says. Then, he falls silent, and all I can do is focus on the
candle flame below me. The rope goes slack. "I'm fine," he calls up at
last.

      My turn and I waste no time.

      The sides of the hole are covered with a slime mold, and the smell
permeates everything. As I slide through the roof of the tunnel below,
Talen, still holding the end of the rope, pulls me across to the ledge.

      I take a look around, my eyes adjusting to the dark.  By the
candlelight, I see the ledge is just as Wriln indicated...a mere two feet
wide.  He neglected to mention that it's only a foot above the water. I
don't like that at all. And to make matters worse, I see something huge
move in the brine. I make out pale skin and dark eyes before it disappears
in the brackish depths.

      Talen unbuckles me from the line.

      "Tell me again," I say to Talen, "why we have to go this way?"

      He stares at me with his sparkling eyes. "Wriln says the other
tunnels are used quite frequently by things we don't want to run into. No
one will come down here."

      I steady myself next to him and look out across the water, searching
for the other side. The light, however, is insufficient. That "gloom"
actually increases the feeling of foreboding, like I'm standing on the only
land at the edge of an endless dark sea filled with flesh-eating fish.
It's quite unsettling.

      Talen hands me two fist-sized hooks and instructs me to pound them
into the wall just beyond the edge of the candlelight.  "We'll proceed down
the corridor, looping the rope in the hooks.  Logren can use the cable to
steady himself."

      "But we'll run out of rope," I object.

      Talen shakes his head.  "You take the lead. I'll take up the rear. I
can run back along the ledge and retrieve the rope and the hooks.  It'll be
slow going but we should clear the tunnel in three hours."

      "Then you know how far we have to go?" I ask.

      "I haven't the foggiest idea," Talen says. "But Ladika is only four
miles wide.  That means that we're at least within two miles of the
museum. Even at a crawling pace I can cover four miles in an hour.  Do the
math, Kian. I figure at a snail's pace, it'll take us no more than three
hours."

      I grab the hooks and follow Talen's instructions. Meanwhile, Talen
whistles and pulls the rope taught. He has his end looped through a pulley
he's pounded into the wall so that Logren's weight will pull him back
instead of forward into the water.

      Talen is so much smarter than me.

      I watch as Logren lowers himself on the rope. If ever a juicy morsel
got dangled over hungry sharks, this is it.

      The giant is so large and heavy that I'm actually afraid the rope
will snap. Talen's having a heck of a time as well, trying to keep Logren
from swinging about wildly.  At one point, the rope dips and Logren's boot
trails in the water.  I rush over and help Talen pull against the wall and
Logren's body lifts a few inches. Talen and I are both very strong, but the
effort has me straining, and we still haven't gotten him to the ledge
safely.

      With both of us dripping sweat, Talen cautions me to pull once
more. He coils the opposite end of the rope about his hand and leans out
over the water. Logren grabs hold of him, and Talen pulls him onto the
ledge where he steadies himself against my body. Breathing hard, my buddy
reaches down and splashes some water on his face. My eyes scan the dark
water, but I see nothing.

      "Please, don't do that," I tell him.

      "What?" he asks. "Wet my face?"

      I nod, and then watch Wriln scurry down the rope. His is the easiest
descent. Once on the ledge, he takes the lead.

      "Follow," he beckons.

      Talen stands up and motions for me to move. I don't need to be told
twice.

      We walk along the corridor for a mile; I pound hooks and string the
rope. Behind me, somewhere in the dark, Talen pulls them out and gives them
to Logren to hand to me so that I can place them again. It's monotonous,
grueling work; I'm secretly thankful I'm in such good shape.  After an
hour, I become aware that we've attracted our first man-eater.

      We must seem like a curiosity to it. The shark swims parallel to us,
following Wriln's bobbing light.  It's large too, fully six feet from its
dorsal fin to its tail, but the light's too dim for me to make out much
more. It splashes me a couple of times.

      It's then that I catch a whiff of an unmistakable smell.

      Up ahead and on our path are the partially chewed remains of a human
being. Maggots fill his eye sockets and mouth and brine flies swarm around
him and over the water. These particular vermin secrete oil that's as slick
as bacon grease but putrid enough to make a Billy goat puke. Behind me,
Talen retches.

      "What is this, Wriln?" I ask.

      The small man wrings his hands despairingly, pointing above.
"Myrder," he says.  "Yn proude not I for lytheren folk and eke of vyce
distroyen whom he syketh."

      I understand. The thieves of Ladika dispose of their kills down
here. This one must've been still alive. He reached the ledge before being
bit in half below the waist.  It's monstrous.

      Wriln kicks the body into the water, and I watch it sink into the
depths. The shark reacts, diving for it. Blood and spoiled meat floats to
the top along with the maggots. They churn about like bits of rice in egg
drop soup. Wriln moves quickly past the horror, and I follow, careful to
purchase my feet in places where they will not slip.

      I wait to make sure Talen clears safely.

      I try to focus, listening to the gentle murmur of the water. It
brings back memories of an earlier time when I welcomed the ocean like an
old friend and when I enjoyed the reflection of the sunlight playing
against my face, hands, and chest.

      We come across no more rotting corpses, and I utter a short prayer to
Tethyr when we finally reach the tunnel that empties near the Museum of
Karlyoun.

      It's dry in this tunnel, but I feel wet from all the sweat trapped
between my skin and the armor I wear.  The end of our tunnel is all
collapsed rock.

      Wriln busies himself in creating a hole just wide enough for him to
get through.

      Talen and I follow suit, extracting a few more handfuls of stone. It
takes a few minutes to clear away enough for us to squeeze past, albeit one
at a time. As I negotiate the passage, the sharp end of a boulder presses
against my back, and I worry that it may drop further, crushing me.

      Talen wriggles out behind me. Last comes Logren. The giant grunts
heavily, shifting the larger boulders out of the way.

      I turn to Talen, "Why didn't we let him go first?"

      He smiles, "Because we're scouts? If he'd gone through and been
spotted, the gig would be up, right?"

      "Oh," I say.

      Talen hugs me. It's unexpected. "What's that for? Not that I don't
like it?"

      He whispers, "You're like a dumb jock sometimes, and I absolutely
love you for it."

      "But you don't think I'm dumb, right?"

      "Of course not." He nuzzles his nose against my cloak. "I just say
that because it's one of the things that make you so adorable."

      I smile behind my mask even though he can't see it. I'm amazed when
Logren emerges only minutes after us, hefting a rock as large as Wriln with
one hand. He casually tosses it aside using but a twist of his hand.

      He's a grand and powerful man, this giant, with strength ten times my
own.

      Before us is a canopy of thick weeds and bushes.  I gaze beyond them
and see a good measure of rubble marking the edge of old Ladika.  Wriln
indicates the Museum of Karlyoun; it's a building on the far side of a
large park. Much of the park is overgrown, particularly where we're
standing. And an old iron fence is all that remains of any border
separating the park from the street.

      The museum itself lies sandwiched between two older buildings: the
city mint and the government building, which Talen assures me, holds the
prisons and judging halls of the consulate.  Beyond the government building
are the rainbow orchards of the palace grounds. They crown the hill in
brilliant color during the day.  All men of money must be drawn to building
their houses on high places. I make a pact that, if ever I become rich,
I'll live in a valley with serene farms and unobtrusive cottages.

      The grounds around the museum are quartered off by a large wall
sheathed in expensive marble. There's one iron gate in good repair with a
sign that I can't read.

      Talen doesn't make a big deal about my illiteracy, but I'm still
ashamed. I guess I AM a "dumb jock."

      He tells me, "It says they're closed for the evening."

      On the other side of the wall are tall oak and elm trees, spruce and
maple. I see their full canopies from here, even though the season is late.

      I regard Talen who's slipping into his night clothes. I catch just a
glimpse of his taught belly and the top of my priapus which I had no idea
he was wearing. It makes my cock harden. His uniform is black like mine
with the same kind of boots and gloves that he slips directly over bare
skin. He dons a belt and slips a black wool sack over his head with holes
cut for his eyes and mouth.

      I guess maybe the mask thing isn't just limited to me.

      "I'm ready," he says.

      "Why are you wearing that?" I ask.

      Talen turns. "What?"

      "My priapus?" I whisper.

      He puts an arm across my shoulder. "Because I want a part of you with
me all the time, buddy. I love you."

      I swallow my urge to cry and resolve myself to the mission. Maybe
later, I can borrow something of his and wear it...like his sweaty boots
for example. It excites me just to think about that. There's definitely an
intimacy involved in exchanging clothes.

      Wriln shrugs his shoulders and indicates that he'll wait for us
here. It's probably better that way.

      I face Logren. "Wait for a few minutes after Talen and I leave. If
you think you can get into position near the museum then by all means, do
so. But if you can't, then watch for us. We might need help but don't blow
our cover. Understand?"

      He nods in the affirmative.

      I rejoin Talen and then push my way through the dense
undergrowth. Even I can't avoid making a sound, but I try to move during a
breeze, because all the natural rustling will muffle any noise I
unintentionally create. Talen, I discover, is as proficient as I (if not
better) at this trick. Many a time I look back certain that he's left me
alone only to find him right on my heel.

      "Keep going, Kian," he directs.

      We scramble through the shadows of a raspberry copse to where the
iron gate of the park leans over and touches the lower branches of a huge
oak tree. Talen hands me a water bottle, and I take a swig while absorbing
everything that I can with all my senses.

      Now that we're closer to our target, I can see that it's guarded on
the inside by two huge men. They're over seven feet tall and dressed in
studded leather armor. These are the Slayers of Vas.  However, a roar
sounds from the throat of a beast which remains unseen. It must have come
from the courtyard on the inside of the museum's gate.

      "Perhaps another guardian?" Talen ventures.

      "Perhaps? What do you mean by 'perhaps?' I need to know what that
thing is." I hand him back his water bottle. "How many of the slayers do
you count?"

      Talen swallows some water and puts the bottle away. "I count a
dozen."

      I look around but don't see what he's talking about. "How do you come
up with that number?"

      "Two at the gate and two on the inside of the museum. There's tracks
in the dirt on the outside of the wall. That's at least another two. Now,
do you see that light in the north side of the museum? It's up on the
wall."

      I look and notice a tower joining the right angles of the east and
south wall.  I can't see a light directly but I do notice a place where a
shadow falls across the roof at an angle. I nod. "I can't see the light
though."

      Talen shrugs. "That shadow is too long to be from the moon. Our
position just won't let us see the light clearly.  It's a lit room and
there has to be enough guards in that tower to cover shifts.  That brings
us to one dozen, boyfriend, by my book."

      Just as he finishes speaking I note two guards in studded leather and
togas. They appear from around the side and walk abreast of each other.

      "Kian," Talen gestures, "look at the slayers on the inside of the
gate. They're not moving."

      "What?" I follow his pointing finger.

      "It's hard for someone to stand in place that long, wearing that kind
of stuff, and not shift posture even once. That is, unless their extremely
well-disciplined. From what I know of the Slayers of Vas, the guards they
hire out to places like this are as disciplined as a drug addict needing a
fix.  They're either asleep or dead which is bad for us in either case."

      I swallow hard.  "Let's get moving."

      Talen follows my lead, grabs hold of one of the lower branches of the
oak tree, and pulls himself up.  I scramble ahead of him, careful to keep a
low profile, following one of the immense branches out and over the road to
the roof of the Ladikan Mint. The building's as immense as they come and is
made of interlinked granite blocks. Behind me, Talen races across. I wait,
gazing at the cobblestoned highway that flows beneath me. It services old
Ladika and the orchards and high houses of the wealthy elite.  The
buildings here are close-knit with the upper story hanging out over the
street.

      The sloping roof of the mint is made from heavy wooden shakes. It's
so steep in places that Talen and I negotiate with speed only at the risk
of falling. The buildings in this upper quarter are covered with granite
bas-relief carvings of masks, goblins, and gargoyles. Some of them are
quite ferocious.

      As I round the edge of one such structure I overhear a conversation,
so I crouch down to listen.

      "Did you hear something?" a voice asks.

      "No, it's just the wind.  I wish they'd bloody hurry."

      I signal back to Talen who's also heard them.  Carefully, I choose my
steps, winding my way up the steep incline to where I can afford a view of
the two talkers.

      "One Eye's expecting Constantine to show up tonight."

      "He'll be here, and he'll get his just desserts. One Eye's going to
challenge him to a game of blades in the old city. I hope he brings his
apprentice."

      "He's got an apprentice?"

      "That's the rumor. Some rarified Atlantean blond kid that's supposed
to be incredibly handsome."

      "You serious?"

      "About what?"

      "Atlantean blond. That's legendary. Nykorans treasure their skin for
capes, but I heard the real deal is to eat their balls. Their bloodline is
filled with magic. Old myths say you starve 'em for a week and never let
'em rest while you fuck 'em bloody. Then you slice off their balls and
swallow 'em whole."

      "What do you get?"

      "Skin that can't be cut by bladed weapons; bones that when broke,
instantly mend."

      "Just from eating a couple balls?"

      "No, by eating a couple balls that belong to a blond Atlantean."

      "That would be fuckin' cool. I think this 'supposed' apprentice then
is the real deal. If he is, I'd fuck him for a week with another buddy like
you IF it meant I could have that. We'd have to work in shifts. Some
Timeron Knights a few years back tried to buy him from a pederast priest.
Heard Constantine found out and killed them before they could get their
mitts on him. Also heard he cost a fortune."

      A chuckle. "So blades eh? How's he going to get Constantine to fall
for that?"

      "Lyran's captured two of 'em that came down from Hathaway.  He's
killed one of 'em already. He's got the girl and one other guy.  He acts
tall and self-important but he won't be concerning himself much longer when
Kahket takes his spleen out."

      "That witch?" the first voice says. "How can anyone trust her?"

      "It's not a matter of trust. She's next in line in taking over the
Night Wizard's Guild. She's not yet israfil 'cause she ain't drank the bile
of Zandine yet.  But once she does, she'll be unstoppable. Things'll be
done a lot different when she takes over."

      "Things'll be a lot different if I have unbreakable skin and bones
that mend themselves."

      "Amen to that."

      I steel myself and clamber up the side of a chimney, which brings me
just over the edge of the roof to where I can see the talkers. They both
have their back to me, and there's a rope tied to a pole which stretches
across a narrow alley to the top of the east wall surrounding the museum.
Behind me, Talen looks up waiting for me to act.  I reason that if I drop
them from here, they'll fall into the alley and alert the museum
guards. That's not good so I look for another way of killing them.

      I decide on the bold approach.

      I drop onto the roof without so much as making a single shake
quaking. I cross into the shadows moving quickly to the one closest to me.
I unsheathe my blade and slit the first one's throat making sure to cut his
larynx. I carry through with the butt of my blade and knock the other
swiftly on the side of the temple. Dazed, he falls back where I hook his
neck under my boot until I can drag him up and into the shadow of the
chimney.

      He stares at me frightened.

      "Constantine," he struggles to say.

      I jab my thumb into a pressure point at the base of his neck. The
point paralyzes him, yet I know he's experiencing excruciating pain. "When
I let go of this pressure point, you'll not scream.  You'll do as I
ask. You'll tell me what I want to know. Otherwise, you're dead."

      He can't even blink, but I'm sure he understands me.

      I remove my finger. Blood flows down the side of his face where I
struck him.

      "Who's One eye?" I ask him.

      "H-He's the Black Prince of Ladika," he declares, spitting up
foam. "He's been waitin' for you since you took his eye three years ago."

      I mull this over.  This is a dangerous game in which I'm suddenly
embroiled. Meanwhile Talen nods approvingly at my handiwork.  "You're
fast," he says, "and accurate."

      "Where's the girl being held?" I ask.  I decide that I don't really
care about anyone else.

      "She's in an old temple by the sea."

      Talen nods.  "Lyran uses it for his guild house.  It used to be a
temple to the Goddess Khaal, but it's seen better days."

      My captive begins to laugh, so I press my thumb into his larynx
making him cough up blood.  "What's so funny?"

      "Kahket means to use her in the ritual. The Black Prince has assured
us that he'll kill you tonight with the aid of the bloodright."

      "What's the bloodright?" I ask.

      However, he looks at me deliriously, and I realize the blow to his
head is more severe than I'd intended. I swear under my breath as he dies.

      Talen looks at me, eyes narrow. "I don't think we should go after the
jewels, Kian," he says.  "All this talk about bloodrights, rituals, and
sorcery can't be healthy. Especially after that last revealing bit about
your balls. That's unthinkable, but I know there're sick fucks out there
that'll want to castrate you for those magical properties. Look at
us...we're a small town thief and a first- time assassin.  Though," he
adds, "I admit you're very good.  However, I think there comes a time when
one has to think about cutting losses."

      I shake my head.  "I'm not afraid of this 'Black Prince'. As for
Ambrell, I'd like to leave with her.  Constantine told me before he left
that there was an assassin in Ladika.  But, he reassured me that I was far
more talented. And as for my balls, the only one privy to them is you."

      Talen grins, "Thank you. But you've only been doing this kind of
thing for a few hours, Kian. Try and remember, this 'One Eye's' been doing
it for years.  What makes you think that you can best him?"

      "Because he thinks he's going to be facing Constantine. I'm not
Constantine, so he won't be expecting anything that I throw at him,
matter-of-factly speaking of course."

      Talen mutters to himself. "Who's more at fault: the fool or the fool
who follows him?"

      "You don't have to come," I say, "but I've got an obligation to pull
this one through."

      Talen shrugs his shoulders. "I'm coming along, Kian. You're my best
friend. You only get one of those in a lifetime, if you're lucky. At least,
that's the way I see it."

      I turn away from him then, smiling.  It feels excellent to have a
best friend.

      Talen peers over the edge of the roof into the alley.  He reaches for
the rope and eases his weight onto it, making sure that his footing is
good. Slowly he stands, and then with arms outstretched to either side,
tightrope walks the length of it to the museum wall.

      I don't have this skill.

      Instead, I swing out over the alley and drop myself beneath the rope,
holding onto the fibers with my fingers. I pull myself along, one arm over
the other until I join him on the far side.

      Talen pulls me up.

      I peer down into the courtyard. It's filled with flowering bushes and
trees. The facade of the museum is gothic with huge bold gables supporting
the tilted roof. It's tiled in wooden shingles and decorated by old iron
wind vanes. Granite carvings of unicorns and devils, their mouths open,
serve as rain gutters. There's an old fountain in front of the museum, and
I can see that the inside's lit by a huge fish-mouthed fireplace. The
courtyard here is enclosed with a night's garment of black shadow.  Not
even the moonlight seems to penetrate the canopy of leaves which shelter
the Museum of Karlyoun.

      Talen and I lower ourselves over the edge and drop down fifteen feet
into the dark. He reaches out and grips my hand because I'm sure he can't
see me.  I grope around a bit, getting my bearings when I hear a low rumble
coming from the path by the fountain in front of the main doors.

      I stay very still; Talen virtually freezes, the line of his body
tight against my own. Something huge pulls itself from the shadows, waving
a monstrous scorpion tail behind its feline body.  It's a lion with a human
head.  The manticore walks forward, its claws making a clicking noise on
the stones as it paces in front of the fountain.

      "By the Gods," Talen breathes, "we dare not move."

      A lump forms in my chest as I stare Death in the face.


                                    *****

      I will post Chapter 16 next week. Thank you for reading.