Chapter Three Plan Faster #3
In that dank cell in Wyrm’s Rock, he had dropped his chin to regard the water he stood in. Just water, and he let his relief sigh out of him before he raised one foot to rub on the other, washing off the dust.
The handsome man chuckled. That was good. “What’d you do, then?”
Kell shrugged. “Theft.”
“What’d you steal?” the broken-nosed one asked.
He had that accent of the rough streets, those with rags stuffed in broken windowpanes and soup that had simmered on the stove, turning scraps into something to eat with the bread.
They all watched him, deciding—was Kell fresh meat or a man worth respecting?
He knew the company of criminals when he was in it. And he knew exactly how to bait the line. “Hullhollyn’s Storm Harp.”
“Bullshit,” the handsome man said.
“Somebody did steal it,” the youngest objected. “The guards had their skirts all tangled about it last night. I heard them say Hullhollyn, and that the Silver Cat must’ve done it.”
Kell sprawled on an empty bench and fiddled with one of his braids while his cellmates argued. He knew that the handsome dark-skinned man did the talking, and he didn’t like that Broken Nose made the decisions. But the man with the broken nose had a sharp eye, and Kell wouldn’t forget it.
Handsome scoffed. “Him, though? Look at him. What did he do, sing them all to sleep and nearly knock over an urn on the way out?”
“Do you sing?” the youngest one asked.
“No.”
It was supposed to be a lie, but the moment Kell said it, he knew it was true. He didn’t sing. Not anymore.
“If Krent is right, then the guild wants that thief,” Broken Nose said, “so we’ll know for sure if Fist Ralthar comes to gloat. They’ve been paying him to spy for years.”
“Fist Ralthar’s not in today,” Handsome said. “Convenient that this one’s claiming to be some secret genius burglar even the guild doesn’t know on a day when Fist Ralthar’s out washing his feet.”
“Thank the gods for that,” Krent said. “The only thing that should smell that way is cheese.”
Kell laughed. So did Broken Nose, who jerked a thumb in his direction. “And how’s Rusty over there supposed to know who spies for them in here, anyway?”
Rusty? Kell shrugged. It was as good a name as any, and he wouldn’t need it for long.
“He’s not the Silver Cat.” Handsome waved the notion away like it was ridiculous. “He’s trying to impress us, and he thinks we’re stupid.”
Saeldian had always said the suspicious ones made it easier. He shoved down the storm that wanted to break things and scream every time he remembered Saeldian. Last night, they let Kell believe they had the whole world waiting for the two of them. Now he was waiting for the noose.
Unless he could save his own skin. He didn’t have time for feelings. He had to get out of here. And he needed these marks to fall in line.
“I never think anyone from the Zhentarim is stupid,” he said, and when they all stopped arguing to stare at him, he knew he’d reeled them right in.
“How did you know—”
Handsome shoved Krent. “Shut up.”
Kell shrugged. “You said Fist Ralthar spied for the guild. And then you called them them. Not us. Therefore…”
“All right, smarty-pants,” Broken Nose said. “Why should we believe you?”
“Because I am the Silver Cat. I stole the contents of Lady Tressym’s secret vault, and the Deer’s Leap’s entire cargo before anyone realized those crates weren’t from the bank.”
“And how did you manage that?”
“I switched the manifests,” Kell said, “while everyone on guard thought they were still properly guarding. No one was paying attention to an annoying clerk arguing with an exciseman about every last bean.”
Saeldian had been the annoying clerk, and Kell had been the exciseman, but they didn’t need to know that.
“Ha!” Handsome elbowed Broken Nose in the ribs. “There! Deception by paperwork! I was right!”
“People thought it was us, though,” Broken Nose said. “So you stole Hullhollyn’s Storm Harp. Was it much harder than stealing Sharess’s Sigh?”
Hells. “No idea,” Kell said. “I don’t even know what that is.”
All three of them leaned forward. “You never heard of it?”
He hadn’t. Had he? It didn’t matter. He could lie about some things, but not a scam he hadn’t pulled. “Never. What is it?”
Handsome glanced at Krent, just for a moment. “He never heard of it.”
“It’s not like I can steal every hatpin in Baldur’s Gate,” Kell said with a scoff. “I need to sleep and eat eggs occasionally. I never heard of your Sharess’s Sigh. Whoever stole it must be good.”
Broken Nose slapped his thighs and grinned. “No such thing. I made it up to see if you’d claim it.”
He couldn’t sigh in relief. “I’m not the only smarty-pants in the room, then.”
Broken Nose puffed up at the compliment, and now Kell had them in his hand. “That’s settled, then. You’re better off timing your escape for closer to dawn than night’s heart, by the way.”
Krent kept his mouth shut this time.
Kell looked at the bricks across the room, bored stiff by all this nonsense. “In the morning on payday, the guards get the good breakfast.”
“That’s the day after tomorrow,” Broken Nose said.
“That’s enough time for cheese-foot Ralthar to come and gloat at me, then, isn’t it?” Kell yawned, stretched, and continued in a bored tone, “But it’s not a lot of time, so I guess you’d better plan faster. I can open that cell door, by the way.”
Handsome leaned closer. “If you can open that cell door, we can help you escape.”
“Since you can’t open that cell door, I think I’m helping you escape.”
“Getting out of this cell is a favor for a favor,” Broken Nose said. “Getting you out of Baldur’s Gate in one piece is another.”
He had agreed, because what choice did he have? Kell’s skill at opening locks freed them from Wyrm’s Rock. The Zhentarim smuggled Kell out of town like he was untaxed brandy.
Baldur’s Gate was ten years behind him. He wasn’t even the same person now.
But here, on a comfortably down-at-the-heels promenade in Waterdeep with the song-drenched air smelling of cake and the sunshine warming his hair, he had become Kell the charlatan again.
All it took was Saeldian, looking just the same.
He was in the sun. He was walking free.
To his left, a contralto trilled out a scale. Brightly dressed young people trooped out of a coffee shop, declaiming lines from a comedy. He was in Waterdeep, walking with Lorzok to a job that would take him home.
“You’re brooding,” Lorzok said.
“You’re right, I am.”
“Is it about anything useful?”
“No. Is there anything useful to brood on?”
“Yes. We still don’t know how to get you two inside,” Saeldian interrupted. “Lorzok doesn’t sing. You don’t have the right clothes. You don’t have unlimited invisibility—”
“Dad does,” Jubilee said. “Not unlimited invisibility. But he’s about Lorzok’s size. Wisdom is about Kell’s size too. They could borrow.”
“There!” Kell said. “All fixed.”
“What’s your cover, though?”
“I thought I’d be strong and silent,” Lorzok said.
Kell paused to let people pass them before answering. “Right. Traders from out of town with the nerve to crash a party.”
Saeldian walked ahead, bored with the details.
Kell was in the sunshine. From all around him came music—tuning lutes, a duet rehearsing, a trio of women in petticoats out on the balcony heckling the rest. He was far from the dark memories of Wyrm’s Rock.
He couldn’t dwell on Saeldian. It was time to move, so he moved.
It was time to act, so he would meet whatever faced him.
“You are trying very hard to pretend you’re fine, Kell.”
The trouble with having a druid come along just when you needed a friend more than anything in the world was that they were very difficult to fool after ten years. “Yeah. I am.”
“Can you talk about it?”
They walked another eighteen paces before Kell said, “No.”