Then we heard a door shut. Devon must have left. Poor fellow, I thought, and wondered very much what he would do. Elves had been known to sicken and die of grief, and I had little doubt that Devon would not long outlive Sabia.
“We’ll give her a few moments to compose herself,” said Alake, with unusual consideration.
“Not too long,” I cautioned. “The household must have been in bed this past signe. We have to get out of this maze and through the streets and down to the wharf yet.”
Alake agreed and, after a few tense moments, we both decided that we could take no more waiting and headed for the door.
The hallway was dark and deserted. We had thought up a plausible story, in case we ran into Marabella, but there was no sign of her or her lavender water. Creeping over to Sabia’s bedchamber, we tapped lightly on the door and softly pushed it open.
Sabia was moving around her bedroom in the darkness, gathering up her things. Hearing the door open, she jumped and swiftly flung a filmy scarf around her head, then turned to face us.
“Who is it?” she whispered in fear. “Marabella?”
“It’s only us,” I said. “Are you ready?”
“Yes, yes. Just a moment.”
She was in a flutter, obviously, for she stumbled about the room in the darkness as if she’d never been inside it before. Her voice, too, had changed, I noticed, but concluded that she must be hoarse from sobbing. At length, falling over a chair, she made her way to us, clutching a silken bag out of which spilled lace and ribbons.
“I’m ready,” she said in a muffled voice, keeping the scarf over her face, probably to hide her tear-swollen eyes and nose. Elves are so vain.
“What about the lute?” I asked.
“The what?”
“The lute. You were going to take your lute.”
“Oh, uh. I … I decided . . . not to,” she said lamely, coughed, and cleared her throat.
Alake had been keeping watch in the hall. She beckoned to us impatiently. “Come on before Marabella catches us!”
Sabia hastened after her. I was about to follow, when I heard what I thought was a sigh coming from the darkness, and a rustle in Sabia’s bed. I looked back, saw an odd shadow, and was about to say something when Alake pounced on me.
“Come on, Grundle!” she insisted, digging her nails into my arm and dragging me out.
I thought no more of it.
We three made our way out of the Grotto safely. Sabia led us, and we only got lost once. Thank the One elves never feel the need, as do humans, to post guards over everything. The streets of the elven city were deserted, as would be any dwarven road at this time. It is only in human villages that you find people wandering about at all hours of the night.
We reached the boat. Alake cast her magical sleep over the dwarves on watch and they toppled to the decks snoring blissfully. Then we faced what would be our most difficult challenge during that entire night—hauling the slumbering dwarves out of the boat and back to shore, where we planned to hide them among some barrels.
The sleeping dwarves were so much deadweight, and I was certain I’d torn my arms out of their sockets after wrestling with the first. I asked Alake if she didn’t know a flying spell we could cast on them, but she said she hadn’t gone that far in her studies yet. Oddly, weak, fragile Sabia proved unusually strong and adept at dwarf-hauling. Again, I thought this strange. Was I truly blind? Or had the One commanded me to shut my eyes?
We manhandled the last dwarf off and slipped onto the boat, which was really just a much smaller version of the submersible I’ve already described. Our first task was to search the berths and the hold, gathering the various axes and pole arms the crew had left about. We carried these up to the open deck, located behind the observation room.
Alake and Sabia began to throw them overboard. I cringed at the splashing sounds the arms made, certain that it must be heard by everyone in the city.