Chapter 278: Down the Hatch
Down the Hatch
Bent over with his cloak almost huddled around him, Martel followed Weasel through the copper lanes. Being nearly twice as tall, his long legs could easily keep up with the urchin even with this posture.
They followed a path straight north. After they had walked a while, Martel grew doubtful, wondering exactly at their route. "How much further until we go underground? You're here to take me through the sewers, not through the city." Once they left the copper lanes, streetlamps and regular patrols would trouble their progress.
"We have to reach an entrance first, don't we," Weasel retorted. "No sewers in the poorer part of town. That's only for rich folks." Reaching a half-broken fence, the boy pressed through, allowing them to go from one side street to another while avoiding the main road.
Martel had to admit, Weasel's assessment was probably right. Not to mention another problem that prevented sewers below the copper lanes; given that one could descend directly into the Undercroft from The Copper Drum, the great subterranean caverns would take up most of the space underground in the southwest. There would be no room to build the sewers. Martel wondered if the engineers in days past had known about the Undercroft, or if they were solely guided by the reason as Weasel guessed, restricting the tunnel work to the other, richer parts of the city.
***
They continued into the merchant quarter; the surrounding streets grew wider, illuminated by lamps, forcing them to take longer detours to stay out of sight. More climbing and ducking ensued, sometimes passing through what had to be a private backyard, all to avoid the main thoroughfares. Martel had to admit some admiration for the young boy guiding him; his knowledge of the city was astounding given his age. But it made sense that someone accustomed to life on the streets would have such familiarity with them.
Weasel came to an abrupt halt. Martel almost crashed into him before arresting his own movement. "What is it?"
They stood by the exit of an alley, leading onto one of the main streets of the district. The soft glow of the magical lights that lined the thoroughfare almost reached them. "Guards."
Martel edged his way forward to peak around the corner. Down the road, five legionaries stood, presumably keeping watch of an intersection of larger streets meeting at a square. Worse, they seemed to stop anyone passing by, questioning them. Given the few people on the street, any attempt to cross it would be noticed. "Can't we just retrace our steps a little and find another way somewhere else?"
Weasel shook his head. "Hatch to the sewers is over there." He motioned at the entrance to an alley opposite their own, across the street. "It's a dead end. No other way in."
"But it's not the only hatch. Surely you know of another way down?"
"Closest one other than that, at least what I know, is a long way into the market district. Defeats the whole purpose, doesn't it, going that far."
Unfortunately, the boy was right. There would be plenty more illuminated streets and guard patrols between here and there, bound to hinder their progress in the same manner. But perhaps magic could provide a solution. "Be ready to move," the acolyte told the urchin.
Martel searched the street until he saw some refuse lying against a wall; a broken crate or barrel, something like that. Reaching out with his magic, he felt it near the limit of his grasp. But he did not need to be soft-handed with it. Pushing spellpower through his connection with the pieces of wood, he made them move around, striking against the wall before hitting the ground again to cause a good amount of noise.
All the guards turned in that direction, some of them walking closer to investigate; seeing that, Martel ran to cross the street, Weasel by his side. Congratulating himself on his clever ruse, the acolyte smiled as they reached the alley.
"You there! Stop!"
Not that clever after all. Not to mention, they had just walked into a dead end; no way to escape the guards running towards them, unless Weasel was right about the hatch. Martel prayed that was the case. He saw no good outcome from trying to fight the city guard, win or lose; he was in enough trouble already.
Ahead of him, the boy pushed some debris aside to reveal a metal trapdoor. At least they were in the right place. Groaning, Weasel began to tug on its handle. "A little help!"
Martel leapt forward to grab the hatch and pulled it open, lending some empowered strength to his arm. Without delay, Weasel slid down the hole. Glancing over his shoulder at the guards, only a few paces behind, the acolyte followed suit, jumping rather than using the steps in the wall.
The familiar stench greeted him as he landed, almost slipping on the wet tiles. The darkness overwhelmed him as well, but thanks to his previous visits to the sewers, Martel knew the layout instinctively. Using his heat sense, he saw Weasel running down one direction of the tunnel and followed. Already, he heard the guards going down the hatch as well.
Finding inspiration in his own near mishap, Martel grabbed the water in the sewer with his magical skill and poured it over the ledge behind him as he fled. With another spell, he froze it to ice. Still running, he heard the satisfying sound of someone slipping and cursing as they struck the ground. A loud splash announced that either the same person or someone else had suffered the misfortune of falling into the sewer itself.
"Stars, get me up! Help me, you bastards!"
Outbursts and bemoaning followed with sounds of struggle from the guards, trying to pull one man up while staying upright on their own feet.
Still following the patch of heat in front of him, vaguely familiar as the shape of Weasel, Martel smiled to know that his second ruse had proven better than his first.
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