"There is a prisoner we need," replied Arin. "One who must be set free."

The chief settled a cloak about his shoulders. From the corridor there came the tramp of feet. "If it's a drunk or a debtor, simply pay at the desk," he snapped.

"Nay, chief warden, 'tis one about to hang," replied Arin.

A jailor stood in the doorway. Arrayed in the hallway behind was a troop of men-swords at their sides, manacles in hand. "We are ready, sir."

The warden nodded and tossed him a ring of keys. "Go on up, sergeant. Take those in the first cell. I'll be there in a moment."

The jailor saluted and turned and called out a command, and the troop tramped away, heading for the stairs.

The warden took up a sheaf of papers. "I'm sorry, but you are too late. I have these warrants to execute. No prisoner to be hanged will be set free."

Aiko growled, and touched the wide leather sash at her waist, the belt holding the hidden shiruken, but Arin stopped her with a glance. The Dylvana turned. "I represent Coron Remar of Darda Erynian, chief warden, and am here at the behest of the Lord Steward Revor. He will tell thee that what I request is to be honored."

"Have you proof of this?" asked the man.

"Nay, yet I can get it."

"Then do so," he replied, stepping toward the doorway. "Until I see such, though, the hangings will go on as scheduled."

"But the steward has set sail, chief warden," protested Arin. "I cannot-"

From the hall came shouts of alarm and the clash and clang of weaponry. Bloodcurdling shrieks and howls of battle rang throughout the building. Horns sounded above the furor, and swarthy men armed with swords and manacle chains clattered down the stairs.

"Escape!" shouted the warden, but whether his was a command to flee or a statement of fact was uncertain. Regardless, he drew a weapon and charged into the fray, his steel riving.

Aiko's own swords were in her hands, and Egil held his axe. Drawing his rapier, Delon looked to Arin. "Now is our chance to save Ferret," he called above the clangor of battle.

Gripping her long-knife, Arin nodded sharply, and Aiko led the way. The battle had spilled into the streets, and the way to the stairwell was empty of combat, though bodies lay here and there-some were Rovers, others warders; some yet alive, others thoroughly dead.

Up the stone stairs Delon dashed, following Aiko's lead, the bard shouting "Ferret! Ferret!" Arin and Egil came after.

When they got to the upper floor, they found men dead and dying; and even though one of the slain jailors-the sergeant-yet held the ring of keys, all the cell doors stood unlocked and open, the cages empty, even the drunks and debtors were gone.

From all appearances, the troop had been ambushed and their swords and chains taken by the escaping prisoners.

As to Ferret, she was nowhere to be found.

Arin and her companions looked at one another in bewilderment, and through the windows came shouts of alarm and calls to arms and cries of frightened women and children.

"The ship," said Delon, "the Brise. Ferret said she'd meet us there."

"What?" asked Egil in surprise.

"She said she'd meet us there," repeated Delon. "I'll explain later."

"Let us go," said Aiko. "My tiger whispers of peril."

"But the wounded…" protested Arin.

"Surely someone is even now fetching healers," said Egil. "Besides, the chief warden is likely to blame the escape on us."

"Indeed," said Delon. "And he'd likely be right."

Aiko shot him a glance, then said again and more strongly, "Let us go. Now."

Back down the stairs and out they ran, emerging into a madhouse of clamor and chaos, with shouting men, like hounds in pursuit, running this way and that, Rovers fleeing before them.

"Quick," hissed Egil, "to the Blue Moon to get our things, then to the ship."

They scurried through the streets, making their way along the headland toward their quarters. As they ran, of a sudden Egil stopped. "Adon," he said, and pointed through the twilight.

Down in the bay and at anchor stood a Dragonship, and from its mast flew a striped flag: black and orange and gold.

" 'Tis a Jutlander ship," said Egil. "Come searching for us, I deem."

"Ar, your friend came looking," said the innkeeper. "Not a candlemark past."

"Friend?" asked Delon, the bard alone, for the others would be more readily recognized by anyone watching.

"Spoke with an accent, he did," added the innkeeper.

"Was he old, one of his eyes white?"

"Nar. This was a young man with yellow hair. Dressed in black, he was, though his hat was orange and gold. He said, real snootylike, I wasn't to tell you. Said he and his friends wanted to spring a surprise. Ordered me to keep my trap shut, he did. But I thought you should know; besides, I never did like taking orders from strangers."

"Well, if he comes back," said Delon, sliding the 'keep a gold coin, "tell him we dine at the caer. Have him and the others wait in our chambers. We will be late returning."

Delon turned and, pulling his hat low, stepped back to the street. He walked a few paces along the lantern-lit thoroughfare, then ducked into a dark alleyway. "You were right, Egil," he hissed to the three waiting there. "The Jutlanders are looking for us."

"Rauk!" said Egil, turning to Arin. "Then they must know about the Brise."

"How so?" asked Delon.

"They would have learned the name of our craft from the harbormaster in Koniginstadt," said Arin.

"And they would have asked the harbormaster here if we had docked," added Egil.

Aiko growled. "Then our ship will be under their eye. Perhaps they even lay an ambush for us, and this is what my tiger whispers of."

"Oh Hel!" hissed Delon. "Ferret's going there."

"Oh, my," exclaimed Arin. "There is something else."

"What is it, love?" asked Egil, his gaze sweeping the street but seeing nothing of alarm.

"Alos. If they find him, they will slay him."

"Damn!" spat Egil. "And it's not like he can hide-an old, one-eyed man."

"We must find him," declared Arin. "Take him to safety."

Aiko grunted. "He is, or was, at a dockside tavern: the Foaming Prow."

Egil turned to her. "You know where he is?"

"I followed him last night when he slipped away."

"Well, let's stir our stumps," said Delon. "The Jutlanders will be back soon, and I'd rather not be the guest of Gudrun again."

Abandoning their meager goods, they slipped away from the Blue Moon and headed for the docks. Full night had fallen by the time they came to the road to the wharves below, and only a handful of lanterns were lit down on the docks. Against the dim yellow light, they scanned the way for Jutlanders coming upward, but none were seen. They scurried down to the piers, and keeping to the darkest shadows, they headed toward the taverns. Soon they reached the Foaming Prow, a ramshackle grogshop much like the Cove in Morkfjord.

Once again, since he was the least recognizable- being neither an Elf nor yellow nor having one eye-they sent Delon in to investigate. Pulling his hat down to shadow his face, Delon entered the tavern, while Aiko, Arin, and Egil, weapons ready, waited in the darkness outside.

Moments later Delon emerged, with Alos draped over his shoulder, the old man dead drunk and passed out.

Now they made their way back in the direction of the sloop, this time with Arin and Aiko to the fore, the Dylvana's keener eyesight probing the darkness ahead, the Ryodoan at her side, a sword in each hand.

"The peril grows," hissed Aiko.

They stashed Alos behind a great number of bales of flax waiting to be laded aboard a ship. Then they crept onward through the darkness, using shadows and kegs and crates and bales to conceal their progress.