Sparhawk’s heart sank as he and Kalten hauled the young thief back.
‘Hold on for a minute.’ Talen turned until he was on his side, and then he extended his arms until they were stretched out above his head. ‘All right then, push.’
‘You’ll just get stuck again,’ Kalten objected.
‘Then you’ll have to shove harder. This is what comes of all that wholesome food, exercise, and clean living you keep pushing on me, Sparhawk. I’ve grown so much that I can’t get my shoulders through.’ He began to wriggle through the opening again. ‘Push, gentlemen!’ he instructed.
The two of them pushed their hands against the soles of his feet.
‘Harder!’ he grunted.
‘You’ll tear all your skin off,’ Kalten warned.
‘I’m young. I heal fast. Push!’
The two shoved at his feet, and, with a great deal of squirming and a few muttered oaths, he was through.
‘Is he all right?’ Sparhawk whispered hoarsely through the window.
‘I’m fine, Sparhawk,’ Talen whispered back. ‘You’d better get moving. This won’t take me very long.’
Sparhawk and Kalten dropped back to the parapet. ‘Let’s go,’ Sparhawk said shortly, and the three knights and the Atan giantess moved quickly around the narrow parapet to the south side of the tower.
‘Quietly, Anakha.’ Xanetia’s voice seemed to come out of nowhere.
‘Are they stirring yet, Anarae?’ Bevier whispered.
‘Some few sounds do emanate from the guardroom,’ her voice replied.
There were two large, unglazed windows at the front of the tower, one on each side of the broad door. Sparhawk cautiously raised his head above the lower edge of one of them and peered inside. The room, as Aphrael had reported, was fairly large. It was sparsely furnished with benches, a few backless chairs, a couple of low tables, and it was lit with primitive oil lamps. There was a narrow door on the right side of the rear wall with two statue-like Cyrgai, one on each side, guarding it. The stairway on the left-hand side of the room, also guarded, was enclosed on three sides by a low wall. The second doorway, the one leading into the guardroom, was also on the left side, not far from the top of the stairs.
Sparhawk looked intently at the guards, closely studying their weapons and equipment. They were well-muscled men in archaic breastplates, crested helmets and short leather kilts. Each had a large round shield strapped to his left arm, and each grasped an eight-foot spear in his right. They all had swords and heavy daggers belted at their waists.
Sparhawk moved his head away from the window. ‘You’d all better take a look,’ he whispered to his friends.
One by one, Kalten, Bevier, and Mirtai raised up slightly to peer into the room.
‘Is this locked, Anarae?’ Sparhawk whispered, pointing at the door leading out onto the parapet.
‘I did not think it wise to try it, Anakha. Cyrgai construction is crude, and methinks no door-latch in the city may be attempted soundlessly.’
‘You’re probably right,’ he breathed. ‘Let’s pull back around the corner,’ he told the others, leading them round to the east side.
‘It’s getting lighter,’ Kalten noted, pointing toward the horizon.
Sparhawk grunted. ‘We’ll go in through the windows,’ he told them. ‘We’d just jam up if we tried to go through the doorway anyhow. Bevier, you and Mirtai go through the one on the far side of the door. Kalten and I’ll go through the one on this side. Be careful. Those spears seem to be their primary weapon, so they’ve probably had lots of training with them. Get in close and fast. Take them down in a hurry and then block that door to the guardroom. We’re going to have to hold those stairs, too.’
‘I’ll do that, Sparhawk,’ Mirtai assured him. ‘You concentrate on getting our friends out of that cell.’
‘Right,’ he agreed. ‘As soon as they’re free, I’ll unleash the Bhelliom. That should change the odds up here significantly.’
And then a clear voice raised in aching song that soared out above the sleeping city.
‘That’s the signal!’ Kalten told them. ‘That’s Alean! Talen’s finished up! Let’s go!’
‘You heard him!’ Sparhawk said, stepping back so that Bevier and Mirtai could get past. ‘I’ll give the word, and we’ll all go in at the same time!’
Bevier and Mirtai crouched low as they ran past the window on the near side to take positions under the window beyond the door. ‘Stay clear of this, Anarae,’ Sparhawk murmured to the invisible Xanetia. ‘It’s not your kind of fight.’ He frowned. There was no sense of her presence nearby. ‘All right, Kalten,’ he said then, ‘let’s get to work.’
The two of them silently crept forward, swords in hand, to crouch beneath the broad window. Sparhawk raised slightly to look along the parapet. Bevier and Mirtai waited tensely under the far window. He drew in a deep breath and set himself. ‘Now!’ he shouted, setting his hand on the window-ledge and vaulting through into the room.
There had been four Cyrgai inside before. Now there were ten.
‘They’re changing the guard, Sparhawk!’ Bevier shouted, swinging his deadly lochaber in both hands.
They still had the element of surprise, but the situation had drastically changed. Sparhawk swore and cut down a Cyrgai carrying a pail of some kind – the captives’ breakfast, most likely. Then he rushed the four confused guards milling in front of the cell door. One of them was fighting with the lock while the other three tried to get into position. They were disciplined, there was no question about that, and their long spears did raise problems.
Sparhawk swore a savage oath and swung his heavy broadsword, chopping at the spears. Kalten had moved to one side, and he was also swinging massive blows at the spears. There were sounds of fighting coming from the other side of the room, but Sparhawk was too intent on breaking through to the guard who was trying to force the cell door, to turn and look.
Two of the spears were broken now, and the Cyrgai had discarded them and drawn their swords. The third, his spear still intact, had stepped back to protect the one feverishly struggling with the lock.
Sparhawk risked a quick glance at the other side of the room, just in time to see Mirtai lift a struggling guard over her head and hurl him bodily down the stairs with a great clattering sound. Two other Cyrgai lay dead or dying nearby. Bevier, even as he had in Otha’s throne-room in Zemoch, held the door to the guardroom while Mirtai, like some great, golden cat, savaged the remaining guards at the top of the stairs. Sparhawk quickly turned his attention back to the men he faced.