Two men sit in a small, makeshift waiting room. Warriors both, unused to sitting and waiting, their restless energy could power the city if it could be harnessed.

One of them sits on a bench, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his legs and his hands held together in a grip in front of him. His impatience is visible only in the tenseness of his hands as he rests his forehead on them. His green eyes are closed, and his lips move slightly as if in prayer. A threadbare cloak hides well-worn but serviceable mail armor and is held by a small silver pin showing the sigil of the Argent Path.

The other is s large man in a tattered and heavily patched tunic of the City Guard sits next to him. Several days worth of stubble hide fresh scars on his face. He leans back, fingers drumming away on his leg while he watches the door.

A wooden door provides a poor barrier between them and the argument raging on the other side.

"We have to do this.  If we don't we're all going to starve!"  The rough voice of Alec Mal, captain of Khadim's city guard, sounds like it needs sleep.  And food.  And water.  And the ability to turn back time two years to before any of this ever happened.

"But we have daylight now!  Our farmers can grow crops again, we can begin to feed ourselves once more."  This is the Lord Vershalis, elected leader of the remaining guilds.

"And how long is that going to take?  Who's going to safeguard the famers whilst they plant, watch over the crops as they grow, find proper fertile ground in the first place?"  In a quieter voice he raises the concern that has plagued everyone since the Night.  "What if it happens again?"

Ignoring the questions, Vershalis continued, honey and venom dripping from his words in equal measure.  "What you propose is audacious, Captain.  Your three volunteers out there must be brave men indeed.  Do they know what you have planned for them?"

"Not yet."

"Then good luck."  Footsteps echoed, a door closed.

Absently Drinal entered the outer chamber, of Mals quarters, to deliver his usual report on the hospice inmates to the Captain, and hoping that his request for materials would be successful. The sight of the watchmen seated waiting gave him pause, especially the brute called Jamie and of course there was that Ardent Wayfarer with the problem of guilt. The raised voice emanating from Mals room certainly wasn’t promising... Thankful the watchment would bear the brunt of the Captains displeasure first. Content with this thought he took a seat opposite the Wayfear to wait his turn in Captain Mals eternal cauldren, or would be the fire this morning.

"Right.  You three.  In here."

Dirnal winced slightly.  Mal was forever doing this.  He couldn't see the room, couldn't have heard Dirnal enter, and yet he knew he was there.  He waitied as the watchman and the wayfarer strode into Mal's office, quietly slipping in behind them, closing the door behind him.

"Where's whatsisface?  The Legionnaire?  He was supposed to be here as well."  Mal glanced out of the window to the quiet square below.  The watch house stood along one side of what was now known as the Square of Sorrows.  The adjacent sides showed some signs of rebuilding, the opposite side gave a clear view across a muddy scar to the city walls beyond.  Smoke drifted along the walls from the still-smouldering funeral pyres that had given light and heat to the long winter.

"Doesn't matter.  He can catch you up.  He's a quick learner."  Mal unrolled a scroll across his desk, weighted it with a couple of crude mugs, half-full of the foul-smelling muck the only working distillery was currently producing.  "Right.  One of the search parties found this in the sewers, near the base of the Grey tower.  It's an inventory of the tower stores."  The index finger of his left hand traced along some of the entries.  "Someone was hoarding, building up stores for something.  Might even have known what was coming.  Important thing is, all of the stuff listed here is preserved.  Salted, pickled, wind-dried, whatever.  Now."  He looked each of them in the eye, moving slowly from one to the next, finishing with the Wayfarer.  "You've heard the rumours.  Stores are starting to run low.  Vershalis," he pronounced the name to rhyme with 'scum', "isn't worried.  He reckons we'll be able to farm again soon.  No problems.  That doesn't wash with me.  You three.  You're talented, you're capable and you're not going to be missed if I send you on an errand for a few days.  Get yourselves into the sewers.  It's the only safe way to get anywhere near the Grey tower that we've found.  Get into the tower and liberate those stores."

Dirnal was thankfull the mannites had discovered the invertory he had dropped in the sewers, albiet it took much longer that he had anticipated.

Mal roled up the scroll again, handed it to Jamie.

Thinking quickly he scanned a last look at the map to check the proximity of the grey tower to that of graveyards

[Graveyard is approx half a mile further around the city walls.  Pick a direction.]

"Questions?"

Nathyn had stood attentively during the captain's briefing. At the end, he acknowledged the mission with a curt nod, "Sansehl willing, we will succeed. We will need some way to signal you once we've found the stores. With its existence a certainty, it should not be hard to assemble a party to transport them out."

Jamie hardly glanced at the scroll. He could read, if given enough time. It really didn't matter. The job was simple. Definitely risky, but simple. Still, if they pulled this off, he'd be famous. Jamie grinned. “No problem, boss…I mean Captain.” He still wasn’t quite used to this whole working for the guard thing, all the saluting and meaningless formalities. Still, this was The Captain and you didn’t mess with The Captain.

Jamie took a look at the other two. The Wayfarer would sure be helpful. There were good reasons why people didn’t pick fights with them. The Captain had mentioned that legionnaire fellow would be joining them. Jamie didn’t know the guy, but at least he had some training. What good fancy Legion tactics would do in a sewer, Jamie wasn’t too sure, but he had survived the Winter. That alone said a lot about a man.

Then there was this half-man. Jamie jabbed a thumb at the air over the gnome’s head. “Uh…Captain? Are we taking the…uh…healer with us?”

A smile tugged at Nathyn's lips. Before Mal could answer, Nathyn interjected, "I'm sure Master Dirnal's help will be appreciated."

Ignoring the rantings of the mannite brute Dirnal looked towards Mal. "Captain yon be an increasing number of injured to attend. Hopefully Thee wish not to overtax any others." he advised knowing any would be futile but he had to try... after all one time the captain may heed the voice of reason.

"The injured can wait for a day or so.  Injuries heal with time.  Hunger gets worse.  Now..."  Mal turned his back, focussing his gaze on the crude map of the city drawn on the plaster of the wall behind him.  "You'd best go down here." He jabbed at a spot in the semicircular plaza in front of the Grey Tower.  "As long as you're more than twenty paces from the tower on the surface, you'll be fine.  And there's a storm drain there.  We lost the plans of the sewer systems so you'll just have to rely on your sense of direction to find the tower.  Don't know what sort of a state they'll be in, either."  He turned and looked at the three of them.  "Hunger's been good for one thing, you're all skinny enough to fit through a keyhole.  Now.  Off you go.  Sooner you get started, the sooner we all get something a little fresher to eat."

Leaving the Captains office Drinal fixed the Ardent Follower with a look of concern "One be obliged to collect some necessary materials, such shall be completed within the Halfhour; whence shall One joineth Thee" he infomed moving quickly our of the building. Once free of the mannites he slipped out of the ruins, headed to his prearranged rendavous point, and left a messive for his kinfolk about Mals plans. Returning to the hospice he collected a carryall, filled it with several materials... all the while muttering about the brutishness of others and their unreasonable nature... If only Mal wouldn't treat him with such contempt... if only the mannites would... "Stay Thy thoughts youngen They be of little consequence in the greater scheme of things..." boomed the voice of Grandkin "Focus on yon tasks ..." aye he thought nodding at the advice. Turning he gave Mafista a smile and headed out of the hospice. With a practiced step he strolled along weaving his way through the once ornate city absently passing buildings which had been partially repaired. "Thee be here..." a familiar voice from within the stream prompted the young Gnome, obliging him look about. Noting that he had reached the prearranged spot, nodding in agreement, he leaned against an adjacent wall and waited for the other pawns of Captain Mal.

---

Nathyn nodded farewell to the gnome and turned to Jaime to ask, "You've lived in the city before. What do you know of the sewers?"

Jamie watched the gnome leave and shook his head. This was a dangerous mission and he was no ones caretaker. Turning back to the Wayfarer, he shrugged. "I've been down there are few times, but always with a guide. There are some decent parts, but most of it is a mess. Plenty of folks got, or had I suppose, bolt holes down there and I heard of at least one boss who had the cash to rebuild parts of it. If you take the wrong turn, it can be a maze and this was Before. I doubt it's improved."

Nathyn soberly absorbed Jaime's words. "Well, unless you're good with a map, that fellow Dirnal may very well prove useful then," he mused.

He glanced at Jaime with a wry smile. "We'll need a guide ourselves if we're to have any chance of making it into the tower and I'm not exactly qualified."

Jamie grinned "I'm no guide, but I can sure deal with any rats we meet. Don't know if any of the Ned's guides survived, but I could ask around." 

The smile spread into an infectious grin. "I did get the impression you're the sort of fellow who's good at obtaining things. Let's go see what we can scrounge up for our little expedition, no?"

Jamie's eyes widened and he glanced around. "Do you mean that how I think you do?" He grinned back at the Wayfarer.

Nathyn chuckled, "The way I see it, our good captain considers this a critical mission, so it's our responsibility to make sure we are well equipped to achieve our goal." He gave Jaime a mock-stern look. "Provided we only take what we'll need."

Jamie gave a broad grin. Suddenly this job was looking a lot more fun. "Sure, I can help...persuade people to help. Where should we start?"

Nathyn raised an amused eyebrow. "You're the one who's been down in the sewers before, but I'd hazard a light source would be highly useful. Lanterns, perhaps? Torches, at the very least." He gestured down the street in invitation. "Lead on, friend."

Jamie ticked items off on his fingers. "Well, we'll definitely need light, preferably a lantern or two. Backpacks or sacks to carry things in and oil cloth or something else to keep water off important things. Good boots would also be nice. Don't want too much extra in case we do run into tight places."

Jamie sobered up a bit. "So, you know that...uh, gnome. Deer-something?"

"Dirnal," Nathyn corrected, faintly approximating the lilt of the gnome tongue. "Not personally, but I have seen him doing his craft about the city. I've also met others of his race in my training and studied some of their writings. At least the ones they're willing to share. A proud race, and sometimes off-putting, but..."

His own face turned grim. "In these dark days, we can ill-afford to let old fears and prejudices guide us. We need all of us to be together, joined in common effort, for any of us to survive. Whatever we were, whatever we did before, it's what we are and do now that counts."

The Wayfarer gave his new teammate a meaningful look, hinting at some understanding of Jaime's situation.

Jamie grunted. "I've got nothing against him. As long as he can carry his own weight we won't have a problem."

Nathyn sighed. Patience, he counseled himself silently. The Path can be shown, but each of us must choose to take it.

As they continued along the street, the Wayfarer remarked conversationally, "I apologize. I've been remiss. My name is Nathyn, formerly of Sanctahl. You're one of the... ah, locals that the Captain recruited to fill the ranks. Your name is...?"

"Name's Jamie. Formerly of Red-nosed Ned's team." Jamie paused briefly, looking for any sign of recognition. "Now by the Captain's grace I work for the Guard. I've never worked with a Wayfarer before. You're not much like I expected."

"I suppose not," Nathyn chuckled, a touch of melancholy reflected in his eyes. "The world has changed, Jaime, as I said. Whatever we were, whatever we did..." he repeated, letting the sentence drift off unfinished.

Nathyn shook his head slightly, dispelling whatever cloud threatened to form on his brow. "Let's go," he said in a cheerful voice, clapping Jaime's shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie. "We've got an important mission to prepare for. For better or worse, we're the Guard now, and we need to make sure to act like it."

---

Seated on a log in meeting area Dirnal occupied his time tying and untying a small cord that hung from his belt, in a series of knots of varying style complexity and usage. "Aye Thee wilst soon be as skilled as any ropesman" Obadan Vellsup his Grand cousin thrice removed prompted.. "Now pull the cord forward, swing the centre towards the left passing both ends crosswise through the lower loop. Then weave to its right with a quarter hitch and swing. Pass the right overhand and under palm now tug with the left and you have a Three quarter mannite puzzle knot..." In the distance he could hear mannites engaged in discussion, and looked about... The shadows appeared to have grown and he was sure he spotted something off to his left. Hammerhands he thought springing towards an opening in the wall he was resting against. Slipping through the opening his heart pounded in time with his pace as he scuttled under fallen beams through a series of holed walls and away from the brutish mannites...

To be sure he had avioded any pursuit he slipped through a few more buildings deftly weaving his way through the ruins. Emerging from an opening on the far side of the structure he nearly collided with the Ardent warrior... Casting a look of partial relief at their presence "Thee wast taking such time One wast obliged to seek Thee out." he informed.

"We were procuring some basic supplies for our expedition," Nathyn informed Dirnal with a friendly air. The supplies they'd managed to scratch together were meagre fare. A couple of lanterns, oil for a few hours, rope, the usual stuff. None of it of great quality, it all fit into one battered sack.

"I know you to be Dirnal," Nathyn addressed the gnome, "Let me introduce myself and our other partner in this endeavor. I am Nathyn, last of Sanctahl. This is Jaime of Khadim. He is glad to have you join us." He looked at Jaime with a spark of humor in his eye.

Dirnal stared blankly at the other mannite, sure he thought as pleased as a cat is on spotting some unsuspecting prey. he knows of the blackguard from reports imparted by his kinfolk.

Jamie shot Nathyn an annoyed look, but shrugged and said to the gnome, "Aye, you watch my back and I'll watch yours. Watch yourself and we won't have any problems."

---

The three of them reached the square in front of the Grey Tower. Jamie remembered the market that met here, always rich pickings if you knew where to look. Now the few people who could be seen scurried purposefully across the open space, glancing nervously at the darkening sky.

The Grey Tower.  One of the seven towers that gave Khadim its name.  Seventy, maybe eighty feet tall, the pale grey stone seemed to have come through the Night of Fire relatively unscathed.  Four statues of ordinary people, beautifully detailed, stood near the door.  Why they had been carved running from the cold stone doors was unknown to anyone who hadn't witnessed the Weave of magic ripping apart and freezing them where they stood.  Since then, no-one had gone near the statues, nor the doors themselves.

Six feet across, the black iron storm drain lay before them.  Jamie hefted the large T-shaped 'key' in his right hand.

Nathyn crouched by the lid and sighted across to the tower. The worn leather in his boots creaked. "It'll be hard to keep our bearings once we're down there," he mused. He turned to the gnome and asked politely, "Dirnal, how good are you at navigation?"

"Grand Aunt Olivina maintains navigation be a talent for Open spaces... not smelly holes" he informed  "Surley yon fellow be adapt with such... considering how anst where he wast recruited..." nodding towards Jamie.

Jamie eyed the gnome, not quite sure he liked the gnome's tone. He gave the sewer key a little toss, testing the weight. This would make a nice club in a pinch. "I was a strongarm and a persuader, not a sewer rat. Just cause I been down there don't mean I can guide you. I don't know if any of Ned's rats made it, but I can ask around." He knew the rest of crew had been enlisted and several of them were still alive. Some of them might know of any surviving sewer rats, thieves that made a living by knowing how best to use the sewers. "Timon and Bram should be off duty right now. They might know."

Dirnal considered the footpad, so he's been associating with the others in his gang he thought.... Making a mental note to query this when he'd returned...

Nathyn took Jaime's admission of his criminal past with equanimity. He'd meant his earlier speech; whatever role they'd fulfilled in the Before, it was what they did in the Now that counted.

"I'm suspecting that the Captain is quite aware of your resources, Jaime," he said. "If he felt we had the luxury to enlist the aid of others, he would've included that in his briefing. More likely he felt it would be wise to keep the knowledge of this cache, if it does exist, in as small a circle as possible, to make sure it goes to the right hands."

Turning to the gnome, he continued, "I'll ask again, Dirnal, can you keep us going in the right direction?" His tone was not accusing, yet carried the weight of importance.

"Perhaps... If Thee wisheth One to undertaketh such One will oblige..." he replied considering the difficulty of following a wall to a endpoint then turning about and following the same wall until reaching the start point. Pausing he began to focus; reaching out with his thoughts he touched the familiar barrier pushing gently onward "Well youngen has Thee heard of the Weavers knit" the familiar voice enquired. "Ney Uncle perhaps One could learn such a little later... Wouldst Thee hast a talent for Navigation" Dirnal enquired

[Temporary skills - good for one use on a game page for the time being.] 

Jamie shrugged and ignored what the Wayfarer seemed to believe about his 'resources'. The gnome was doing something strange.

Nathyn tapped Jaime silently, so as not to interrupt whatever rituals Dirnal was performing, and gestured towards the drain, indicating the two of them work to lift the cover.

With a last cautious glance at the gnome, Jamie hooked the sewer key into the drain. With muscles straining, he dragged the cover off. He grimaced at the smell and left the cover lying by the entrance.

Dirnal waited for the mannites to open the grate standing back to allow the first gush of rancid air to dissipate. 

Nathyn knelt to dole out some oil into a lantern and strike a flint to light it. Once it was going, he handed it to Dirnal.

"Here," he said. "Jaime and I will walk with weapons ready. You can light our way and keep us on the path." With practiced ease, he drew his sword.

Taking the offered lamp Dirnal waited for the others to examine the immediate area. Taking a last breath of fresh air he followed them into the semidarkness. Using a series of rusted bars, projecting from the wall, he climbed down, struggled with the lantern, both to keep hold of it and avoid having it catch on his arm. Reaching the bottom of the wall ladder he moved alongside the opposite wall and peered into the darkness... Turning towards the watchmen he noted how the their shadows danced against the curving interrior walls. "Yon be ast good a direction ast any to head..." he suggested pointing towards the darkness with his left arm waiting for either watchman to lead on.

Nathyn nodded in acknowledgment and turned to Jaime. "I can take the lead, unless you'd rather..." he offered with no trace of guile in his voice.

Jamie slipped the key into his belt and looked down the tunnel. "We ought to be goin' thataway." He said, indicating the passageway leading in the general direction of the Grey Tower. He looked down at Dirnal, "Less you spooked up better directions."

Jamie moved to take the lead and drew his sword. "Might be best if I lead. Its been a while, but I've been down 'ere before."

Nathyn dutifully took up the rear with Dirnal between them to provide the most illumination between them and be protected as best as possible from any danger.

Dirnal adjusted his grip on the lantern looked from one mannite to the other; their proximity having an all to familiar overbearing nature,  was intinsified by the darkenss of the system. Raising the lantern a little in an attempt to drive off this effect. "Leadeth on Makduffer" he replied

Jamie started down the tunnel, sword first. His eyes scanned the darkness ahead, the walls around them, even the muck they walked through. He wished their light was higher, but there was nothing to be done for that. Dirnal was doing his best. Whatever his methods, Jamie actually hoped that the gnome had 'spooked up' some directions. Regardless of the methods they had to use, Jamie wanted this to work.

---

<--  Moved to next page.  Should've been clearer - To Be Continued on te next page... -->