Temple Hill Page 11

  “Excuse me?” Corin said, still whispering—though his voice was strained with indignation. “You damn well did tell me how to do my job. You wouldn’t let me stand guard in your room, remember?”

  “That just proves my point,” Lhasha answered without missing a beat. “We saw how things turned out when I interfered with your profession. The lesson is obvious: don’t meddle with experts doing their job. When it comes to burglary, I’m the expert.”

  Maybe the lesson is that I’m always right and you’re always wrong, Corin thought.

  “This smells like a set-up. I won’t let you walk into a trap.” Corin said.

  Fendel found what he was looking for and turned his attention back to his guests.

  “I agree with your soldier friend,” he said to Lhasha. Corin didn’t know how much the gnome had overheard, but obviously his old ears were still sharp. “You hired Corin to protect you. If his instincts say something’s not right, maybe you’d better listen.”

  “I’ve learned to trust my instincts,” Corin added.

  Instead of continuing the argument, Lhasha simply pulled out the small pouch tucked in her belt and dumped the contents. A handful of gems clattered onto the table—diamonds, rubies, amethysts, emeralds. One large stone bounced off the hard surface and skittered across the floor until it came to rest at the toe of Corin’s boot. He bent down to pick up the multi-faceted stone, marveling at its size and hue. Corin didn’t have the first clue of how to appraise precious stones, but even he could recognize the value of the gem in his hand.

  Fendel, who Corin suspected was more familiar with the true worth of Lhasha’s cache, was too stunned to even speak. All he could manage was a tiny whistle of amazement. Slowly he approached the table and picked up one of the glittering rocks.

  “It looks genuine,” he said after a few seconds of careful study.

  “Of course it is,” Lhasha said, slightly annoyed. “You know I could spot any fake even while blindfolded and drunk on Cormyrian wine. They’re all real. If this job was a set-up, why would my contact have given me all this up front? Is luring me into a trap really worth this much money to the Purple Masks? To anyone?”

  Neither Corin nor Fendel provided an answer.

  “Besides,” Lhasha added, “Corin will be with me.”

  “How much is all this worth?” Corin finally managed to ask.

  “Enough to pay Fendel for whatever items he can give us,” Lhasha said with a smile. “And I imagine we’ll still have enough left over for a healthy down payment on your prosthetic arm.”

  Corin glanced briefly at his stump, then looked up at Lhasha again.

  “We should use this to finance our trip to Cormyr. We need to buy supplies, we might need disguises, we might need to bribe some of the Teziir officials, we’ll have to hire a ship to cross the Dragonmere …”

  “We’ll have enough,” Lhasha assured him. “This is just a down payment. Once I deliver the package, we’ll get the rest. More than enough to cover the trip to Cormyr. And believe me, we’ll travel in style!”

  After a few more seconds of marveling at the wealth on the table, Fendel at last turned his attention from the stones.

  “We may not like this, Corin,” he said to the soldier, “but we’re not going to talk her out of it. So let’s get down to the nuts and bolts and make sure this job is done right.”

  He carefully moved the gems aside, and unrolled a set of blueprints—building plans for a large warehouse. “This is pretty much your standard Caravan district warehouse,” he explained. “You’ll have to get past the city patrols assigned to watch the perimeter of the Caravan district. Shouldn’t be too hard. Elversult doesn’t pay its civil servants that well, and these guys don’t have the pride and prestige that goes with being a Mace. Half the time they’re asleep at their posts.

  “But if this package is as important as your client seems to think, there’ll be private mercenaries hired for extra security around the warehouse. Most likely they’ll have guards watching the loading bays, and guards at all the exits. So you’ll have to go in through the roof.”

  “That’ll be a neat trick,” Corin said. “What are we supposed to do? Scale the wall?”

  “That won’t be a problem,” Lhasha assured him. “I can climb up there without even breaking a sweat.”

  “But if the warehouse is patrolled, you’ll need me inside in case you run into any of the guards,” Corin reminded her. “Maybe you can make the climb, but I can’t. I doubt I could have made it even when I had two good hands.”

  “I’ve got that covered,” Fendel said, a hint of excitement in his voice. “A new invention of mine.”

  “I hope it works better than that stupid farmer thing,” Corin muttered as the gnome went over to a bench on the far side of his workshop and began to rummage through the clutter on top.

  Fendel returned with a half dozen long metal poles. The poles were rectangular in shape, two fingers width on each side.

  “The collapsible ladder,” he said triumphantly.

  Corin grunted.

  “The last thing I want in a ladder is a tendency to collapse.”

  Fendel gave him a sour look.

  “It won’t collapse while you’re on it. Guaranteed to hold the weight of an oversized ogre with a belly full of kobold stew.”

  Lhasha picked up one of the square poles. Watching her, Corin noticed that one end of each pole was hollow, the other slightly tapered.

  “So how does it work?”

  “Glad you asked, Lhasha, glad you asked.” Fendel grabbed a pole in each hand. He slipped the tapered end of the first into the hollow end of the second and pushed. “Just slip them together like so,” he said. “Keep adding another piece until they reach the top.”

  “That’s a lot of pieces,” Corin said. “We’d probably need a dozen or so.”

  Fendel shrugged.

  “I’ve got plenty, and they’re surprisingly light, but strong, very strong.”

  Corin hefted one of the four-foot lengths, surprised at how little weight there was. “Mithral?” he guessed.

  “Partly,” Fendel replied. “It’s an alloy I like to work with. A little mithral, a bit of tempered steel, some iron, and a few other things thrown in. My own personal recipe.”

  Lhasha grabbed several of the pieces and snapped them together in the space of a few seconds.

  “Good fit,” she said. “I like it. Throw them in a backpack and you’re ready to go.”

  “All right, I can see how they fit together,” Corin admitted. “But where’s the ladder part? So far all we’ve got is a really long pole with squared off edges.”

  “Here’s the beauty of it,” the gnome said with obvious excitement in his voice. “See this mark?” he said, indicating a small circle imprinted on the base of each section. “Press here.”

  Corin hesitated, a little wary of what the gnome might have in store, but with Lhasha watching he wasn’t about to refuse. Using his thumb, he applied firm pressure to the spot. The circle clicked inward, triggering a spring. Two sets of metal bars, popped out at perpendicular angles to the rod. Corin dropped his piece in surprise, letting it clatter to the floor.

  Fendel let out a gleeful laugh, and picked the rod up again.

  “See that? Spring loaded. You can stand on these, to use them as rungs to help you up and down the pole.”

  Corin picked the pole up to give it a second look. The small bars that extended out were attached to recessed hinges set into the main body of the rod. When folded down the bars lay almost flat against the pole. The area beneath where they folded down had been shaped and shaved away to allow the bars to lay flat against the pole in the recess, making them almost unnoticeable when they weren’t extended.

  Corin pushed on one of the bars, trying to bend the hinge. He grunted and strained, but couldn’t budge it.

  “I guarantee you won’t be able to fold it back down,” Fendel assured him. “Push the button again and they’ll retract.”


  Corin did, and with a quick snap the bars folded back into place, recessed into their respective notches in the rod. Even though he knew they were there, Corin could barely see the thin line marking out the section that folded open.

  “This craftsmanship is exquisite,” Lhasha said admiringly. “I mean it, Fendel. Truly amazing work. You’re the best.” She gave him another kiss on the forehead. Corin wasn’t certain, but he thought he caught the gnome blushing. It was hard to tell beneath the soot and grime that seemed to permanently cover his face.

  “So,” Lhasha continued, “this can get us onto the roof. Then what?”

  Fendel jammed his finger down on the blueprint.

  “All of these warehouses have a few ventilation chimneys in the roof. It helps cut down on smells and odors in the agricultural warehouses. If there’s ever a fire, it gives the smoke somewhere to escape, so that it doesn’t get trapped in the building and damage all the goods. Also helps keep them a little cooler in the summer.”

  “That’s right,” Corin said, nodding in agreement. “I remember one summer we were sent to guard a spice shipment at one of these warehouses. You could see little streams of light coming down during the day through those things.” After a brief second he added, “But they had metal screens on them to keep the birds out.”

  “True,” the gnome admitted. “The screen shouldn’t be a problem. I can lend you a pair of metal shears that will slice through the mesh like thread. But a lot of the screens are reinforced by iron bars, to keep people like you out.”

  “So how do we get by those?” Lhasha asked on cue. “Don’t keep us in suspense, Fendel. I know you’ve already thought this out.”

  “Another little invention of mine. I call it the Bar Spreader. Not the catchiest name, but it gets the point across.”

  Lhasha and Corin waited patiently while Fendel hunted through his collections of gadgets.

  “Here we go,” he said after a few minutes. “You just attach these clamps onto adjacent bars, and start twisting with this handle. That turns the screw, and forces the clamps farther away from each other. Turn the handle enough times, and it’ll bend the bars—no matter what they’re made of.”

  Fendel gave Corin the quick once over, then added. “It wasn’t designed for someone your size, my broad shouldered friend. The spreader will bend the bars enough for Lhasha to slip through, but you might have a tight squeeze.”

  “Maybe I should just go in alone,” Lhasha said. “Corin can wait for me on the roof.”

  Corin flatly refused.

  “I still think this is a trap. We only go if I’m with you every step of the way.”

  The gnome squinted one eye and tilted his head to the side, measuring the warrior’s girth.

  “You should fit, Corin—barely—but you won’t be able to wear any armor.”

  “Just so long as I can bring my sword.”

  “Anything else you need to show us?” Lhasha asked.

  “Sorry, Lhasha. This is kind of spur of the moment. I don’t have much else. If I had a tenday to put something together …” After a brief pause, the gnome snapped his fingers. “Wait a minute! There is one more thing. Not an invention exactly, but it might come in useful.”

  From his belt the gnome pulled a large, oddly shaped earring carved from a solid chunk of grayish white stone.

  “Jewelry?” Lhasha said, a little taken aback. “You know I love to make an impression, Fendel. But that thing.…”

  “Not much for style,” Fendel admitted. “But its not for parties. The earring is carved from a very rare kind of gemstone I, uh, stumbled across. Audimite, I call it.”

  “I still don’t understand.”

  “Audimite has some rather unique properties.” He handed the earring to Lhasha. “Go stand on the far side of the room, and clasp this to your ear. Corin and I will stay here.”

  Lhasha did as she was told.

  Fendel put a hand on Corin’s shoulder and pulled him down so that the gnome was able to bring his mouth close to the taller man’s ear. The gnome leaned in so far that Corin could actually feel hot breath tickling the tiny hairs inside his ear. In a voice that was so faint it was almost imagined, Fendel whispered, “I think Lhasha’s gaining weight.”

  From the other side of the room, Lhasha shouted out an indignant response. “I’m in the best shape of my life, you blind old coot!”

  “You heard that?” Corin exclaimed in disbelief. Even with the acute hearing of her elf heritage there was no way Lhasha should have been able to pick up Fendel’s voice from that distance.

  “Yeah I heard it, and I hear you, too. No need to shout.”

  “I wasn’t shouting,” Corin answered in a calm voice.

  “You’re still shouting,” Lhasha countered. “You’re so loud you’re going to make my ears bleed!”

  “Lhasha-love,” Fendel said, still whispering. “The Audimite amplifies sounds. Take the earring off.”

  Lhasha did as she was told.

  “How’s this?” Fendel asked in a normal voice.

  “Much better,” she replied, rubbing her ear where the earring had been. “I thought Corin was going to blow my eardrums out.”

  “Yes, there are some dangers to using audimite, but if you need to eavesdrop from a safe distance, it can be pretty handy.”

  “Sorcery,” Corin said. “Are you a cleric of Gond, or a wizard in disguise?”

  “Oh, I assure you,” Fendel said with a sly smile, “I’m a legitimate follower of the Wonderbringer. There’s nothing in Gond’s teachings that forbids us from working something of the magi’s art into our creations. The High Artificer might not approve, but he rarely approves of anything I do anyway.”

  From the first time he’d seen Fendel’s odd farming contraption, Corin had suspected something more than simple mechanical engineering in the gnome’s work. For a brief second, Corin let his mind turn to thoughts of the metal hand Fendel had promised him. He had been skeptical about the possible results, but if the wizened inventor planned to infuse the creation with some type of magical enchantment.…

  Lhasha brought the warrior’s thoughts back to the here and now by quickly, and none too subtly, changing the topic from the role of wizardry in Fendel’s craft. “The sooner we get started the better. Corin and I will go to the warehouse tonight.”

  “And then on to Cormyr,” Fendel pointedly added.

  With a sigh Lhasha consented. “And then on to Cormyr. As soon as we get paid, of course.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Fendel was right about one thing, anyway. The Elversult guards assigned to patrol the perimeter of the Caravan district were asleep at their posts. Corin felt like kicking them as he and Lhasha walked past. Their disregard for duty sickened him.

  Using the directions provided by the nameless employer from the Weeping Griffin, Lhasha led the way through the rows of warehouses that made up the Caravan district. A few were tiny, little more than storage sheds, but most were enormous buildings like the one they planned to break into. The warehouses were primarily owned by the various merchant guilds that operated in Elversult—individual merchants could then rent space from the guild to store their inventory. Some were still owned privately, by wealthy families or organizations rich enough and powerful enough to resist the pressure of the merchant guilds to sell their holdings.

  From personal experience as a hired guard, Corin knew that most of the buildings held little that was of value to the common thief. Huge shipments of raw goods filled the warehouses; worthless to anyone but the guild artisans and craftsmen who would transform them into a finished product. If somebody stole the raw goods, the only buyers would be the same guild merchants who had imported the product in the first place. They wouldn’t be likely to pay for the same goods twice.

  To further protect against thieves, every shipment coming in to or going out of the guild controlled warehouses was meticulously inventoried and cataloged to verify a chain of ownership, making it virtually impossible to sell stolen go
ods in any measurable quantity. In the Caravan district forged documents, bribed customs officials, and counterfeit goods were the new tools of the crook. In Elversult’s new culture of legitimate business, embezzlement was a much more efficient method of making a dishonest profit than simple robbery.

  Theft was still a concern for some who operated warehouses within the district. Since Yanseldara had come to power, the smuggling trade in Elversult had fallen on hard times. Yet there was still enough illegal goods coming into the city to require significant storage facilities. Many of the privately owned warehouses were stocked with addictive spices, banned poisons, stolen gems or jewelry, slaves, and other contraband. The Purple Masks and the Cult of the Dragon had many operatives posing as humble merchants, operatives who preferred not to leave a detailed paper trail for Elversult officials to stumble across.

  The underground activities of Elversult’s criminal element were the only ones who really still needed to guard against burglars. They knew the city guards were useless, but they usually had no trouble coming up with their own mercenaries to watch over their inventory. Corin suspected the building Lhasha and he were breaking into was one of these illegal, and heavily guarded, warehouses.

  “This is it,” Lhasha whispered, setting the pack she had slung over her shoulder on the ground. “Keep watch while I pop Fendel’s contraption together.”

  In the silence of the night the soft clicks, as Lhasha joined the individual sections of Fendel’s collapsible ladder together, seemed conspicuously loud. Nobody came to investigate. In less than a minute she was done. She pressed the trigger on the bottom section, and the rungs popped out with a loud snap.

  “Try to keep up,” she said with a slight smile.

  Corin watched her ascend for a few brief seconds and knew she’d be waiting on the roof long before he even neared the top of ladder. She didn’t climb up, she glided. Every movement flowed into the next, each step up with a boot, each gloved hand reaching for the rung above—every action was part of a fluid, seamless whole.