but the motion triggered Zanderei’s words in his memory.
“Have you ever painted your own portrait?”
Lalo shuddered suddenly, violently. Could even Enas Yorl lift the curse this man
had laid upon his soul? He heard the irregular tramp of men trying to march in
close order over an uneven road. The sound was louder now-in a few moments they
would pass his alleyway. In a few moments the waters would be here.
“What will you see when you have murdered me?”
Without conscious decision, Lalo found himself running stiffly towards the
Serpentine.
“Ho there! Guards-he is hiding in the sewers-down this alley!” He held his
ground while they debated, knowing that they could not recognize him under the
sodden clothes and mud, and motioned to them to follow him.
Then he pounded down the alley, bent to wrestle the bar from the shaft-cover and
ran on until he found the dark overhang of a staircase to shelter him. Below he
felt a trembling and heard the hiss of many waters, and, just as the wooden lid
of the shaft was knocked aside, the hollow boom of water forced upward through
too narrow a way.
Something dark clung to the rim of the shaft, like a rat flooded from its hole,
then clambered the rest of the way out once the fury of the waters had passed.
But now the Hell-Hounds surrounded the shaft. There was a flurry of movement and
Lalo heard swearing and a cry of pain. Among the voices he distinguished the
soft tones of the Emperor’s Commissioner.
“Is that who you say you are?” A deep voice, Quag’s voice, replied. “Well, if