Wet, mossy stone scraped quietly along Perf’s back as he edged his way around the Inner Wall. He could see the torchlight marking the gate that would lead him out of the Inner Court and back to the Mid Square and he stopped short before walking into the perimeter of light. He had magics that would allow him to slip by unseen through the guarded portcullis, but the Augers would surely sense him then. His only real option was to bluff his way out, and that had all sorts of other dangers associated with it. Certainly, his uniform was correct, and he’d been studying the Palace Guard for some time, but all it took was one wary guard to sound an alarm. They were well known for being a tight nit group and suddenly being confronted by an unfamiliar face asking for passage out would be…problematic.

  Perf set his face, adjusted the sack on his shoulder, and strode forward.

  “Hold and Part,” Perf called out as soon as he entered the light.

  Perf’s uniform marked him as their superior but still they hesitated. Perf halted of his own accord before they could go for their weapons.

  “Are you all deaf?” Perf asked but made sure to keep his tone level. His aim was to make them embarrassed for not obeying. The last thing he wanted was to make them angry. “I’ve given you an order. Now part and let me pass.”

  Perf casually rested his free hand on the hilt of his rapier, unlocking it from its cradle but otherwise leaving it alone. None of the Palace Guards seemed to notice.

  “I’m sorry Captain,” one of them, a Sergeant, said as he moved to more fully block Perf’s exit, “But no one is allowed in or out until the intruder is caught.” He brought the point of his spear down to the level of Perf’s heart. “And you of all people should know that.”

  Perf found himself facing not one spear point, but seven as the other guards followed the Sergeant’s example and pointed their spear tips at Perf.

  “And what’s in the sack?” The Sergeant inquired.

  Perf hefted it for them to see. “Clearly,” he said, “It’s empty.”

  “Right,” The Sergeant said and he moved his spear tip closer to the sack, “Then you wouldn’t mind if I just gave it a little poke.” 

  Even the smallest cut in the sack would render it useless and its contents would be disgorged. They were well trained indeed since such knowledge was not exactly common. Perf returned the sack to his shoulder, narrowing his eyes, as the guards fanned out to block the gate. The Sergeant raised his signal whistle to his lips. From his preparations Perf knew that the whistle was magically imbued. When blown, the whistle sent out a burst of power that would immobilize anyone in front of the one blowing the whistle who heard it. Such tools posed some risk to bystanders and other palace or city guards and were naturally used sparingly and only given to those in positions of authority since they were the ones deemed to have sufficient training and forethought to be entrusted with them.

  Perf snapped into action, biting down on his tongue and then immediately spitting the resultant blood at the Sergeant. As the bloody spittle flew, it transformed into a series of crystal bobbles. For the briefest of moments the Sergeant hesitated while he watched the magic occur. His hesitation was his downfall as the bobbles crashed into his face.

  Such simple cantrips were taught to all prospective wizards, though generally not spit from the casters mouth. Most considered them useless unless entertaining small children, but as the Sergeant took a face full of glass shards, Perf knew otherwise and he lunged passed the Sergeant’s spear, slashing his newly drawn blade across the throat of the surprised man.

  Six spear points swung around to strike Perf even as their leader fell gurgling to the ground. Torchlight glinted off the first spear tip to strike at him and Perf parried it, rolling his body along the shaft of the weapon before elbowing the man in the throat, followed by a thrust of his blade into the guard’s stomach. Already, more attacks were coming and before he could reset himself, Perf felt the hot searing pain of steel in his leg. Instinct threw him to the ground, riding the strike and lessening the damage.

  Perf’s leather armor, worn beneath his disguise, also helped to lessen the blow, and a quick flex of his foot assured him that the wound was superficial. But now he was lying on the ground looking up at five spearmen.

    “Yield!” One of the Palace Guards commanded.

  Perf held back a grin at his assailants honor. It would prove their downfall.

  “I yield,” Perf said, releasing his rapier.

  The Palace Guard kicked the weapon away and then motioned for Perf to rise.

  As he got to his feet, Perf feigned to collapse from the pain in his injured leg. Two of the Palace Guards fell for his bluff, lowering their spear tips and moving in to help him. In a flash, Perf flicked the fallen Sergeant’s spear into his hands ducked between the two Palace Guards and brought his spear upward, held in a horizontal grip so that each Palace Guard on either side of him took the full force of his blow to their faces. They stumbled backward, temporarily blinded, as Perf parried an oncoming attack such that it skewered the Palace Guard on his left. He followed it up with a thrust of his own into the Palace Guard on his right. The remaining three Palace Guards fell back and began trying to encircle him.

    As the first Palace Guard attacked, Perf leapt back and away from them, making sure to keep himself from being surrounded. He glanced downward to check his footing and his eye caught a glimpse of something shining in the torchlight: the Sergeant’s whistle.

  A shout brought Perf’s attention back to the fight and he received a spear thrust to his shoulder as punishment for his momentary distraction. This wound, unlike the one in his leg, was serious and he felt warm blood seeping quickly down his chest. He staggered backward, unable to wield the spear one handed he dropped it and stuffed his uninjured arm’s fist into the wound to staunch the flow of blood.

  The Palace Guards advanced together, their training preventing them from rushing forward in case Perf had any other tricks up his sleeves. With so much blood at hand, Perf could cast any number of spells, but even his cantrip had been a risk. Three Palace Guards were bad enough without having to deal with the Royal Augers whose magical prowess would certainly rival if not surpass that of his own. If he was going to survive, let alone escape, he would have to get away soon and without using magic.

  As the Palace Guards advanced Perf used the time to steady himself and gather his strength. He was still bleeding, albeit not so badly now with his fist in the wound, and he was beginning to get the shakes that come once the initial thrill of a fight has worn off and the body begins to recognize the pain and danger it’s in. He refocused his mind on the spot where he’d seen the whistle, knowing not to look there with his eyes and draw the Palace Guard’s attention to it as well. He waited, every beat of his heart like a fresh stab in his injured shoulder and leg. At last the Palace Guards closed the distance and raised their spears to strike.

  Moving as one, all three Palace Guards struck. Two of the spears were thrust wide, one on either side of him, in case Perf tried to dodge. The other spear was aimed for his chest. Perf kicked his injured leg forward to counterbalance himself while he simultaneously flung his torso backwards. With his hand still stuck in his wounded shoulder, Perf used his forearm as it crossed his chest to deflect the spear aiming for his chest and it passed harmlessly over his now prostrated body.

  Still standing on his good leg, and all three spears above him, he pivoted and rolled his body so he was facing downward rather than upward before bending his knee and pushing himself up and to the side in a shallow hop. He landed hard on his uninjured shoulder, unable to properly roll injured as he was, but wasn’t allowing himself to think about any other additional bruised or broken body parts. The whistle was right in front of his face and wrapped his lips around the mouthpiece, turned to face the oncoming Palace Guards, and blew.

  A high pitched screech rent the night and then everything was still.

    He couldn’t afford himself time to relax, since the whistle would certainly draw the attention of every Palace Guard and Auger who were within earshot but outside the range of the magic. Perf set to work, searching through the Sergeant’s jacket until he found the keys to the gate that would let him back into the Mid Square.

  Once he had put a decent amount of distance between himself and the Inner Court, Perf found a windowless alley and removed his uniform. He then bandaged his wounds as best he could before dressing again, this time as a member of the city watch. The city watch were far less disciplined and none of them challenged Perf as he made his way through the city.

    Some previous generation of ingenious riffraff had constructed a hidden door in the Outer Wall. It was seldom used, in part because not many people knew about it, but also because those who did know about it wanted to keep it that way and so controlled its use very carefully to avoid drawing suspicion. The doorway was tucked away in an alley known as Beggars End, because it was believed that only the most wretched of souls lived there, waiting only for their wretched lives to end. In reality the men and women who filled the alley were among the most powerful criminals of the city. In Beggar’s End they were free to barter over the various forms of grift the city had to offer. They organized their crews, recruited new beggars to their enterprises, and generally enjoyed a safe place away from guards and nobles.

  A solitary man dressed in tattered cloth sat beside a stack of old and rotting crates and it was towards this man that Perf made his way.

  “Rewarded is the one who waits,” Perf muttered once he was close enough to be heard and gently laid down a coin purse containing all the earnings he’d made that day selling his potions and infusions.

  The man didn’t move and instead a young boy crawled out of the shadows, opened the pouch silently, and quickly counted the coins. Without saying anything, the boy cinched the pouch closed once more and crept back into his shadows, taking the coin purse with him. The old man shifted his weight to one side, revealing a lever that he pulled and the stack of aging crates slid softly to one side. Stairs led down into a dark passageway beyond and Perf strode confidently into the dark abyss.

  No light was allowed within the passageway for fear of the light being seen through some crack in the wall’s masonry but the stairs were flat and even and a bar bolted into the wall at waist height provided a steadying grip. The passage wound down, through the wall and into it’s foundations until finally leaving the city wall altogether and passing underground for nearly a mile where it opened up in a copse of trees along the River Serl.

  I’m out, Perf told Percy.

  So am I, Percy responded, Down river from the city, riding a piece of driftwood. Pretty sure I’m not being followed anymore.

  Perf got a mental image of where Percy was and began walking.

  I’m coming. Get to shore when you can and find a safe place for the night.

  He’d have to travel carefully. Even though he was outside of the city, the kidnapping of the princess would mean search parties and roaming teams of soldiers and augers. Any and all magic would be suspect, especially magic related to stealth, and probably healing since the Palace Guards whom he’d left alive would no doubt report his injuries.

  Perf grimaced. He hated leaving loose ends and those Palace Guards were certainly that, but no matter how much he enjoyed the thrill he got from his work, he was not a bloodthirsty man. No, he’d made the conscious choice of leaving them alive, knowing it would make his journey more difficult. But no matter. He’d go and collect his horse and cart from the field down river where he sent them via his last passwall and then he’d collect Percy. With any luck in just another couple of days he’d be able to deliver the princess and collect the other half of his fee.