The Runner (Part I of the Runner Series)

Chapter 24

Nearing midnight, the party is in full swing. I make my way across the dance floor toward the staircase, shouldering past two chubby ladies and purposefully treading on the toes of an older gentlemen. No one seems to be feeling any pain or taking any notice of me. I arrive at the staircase and stand on the second step, sipping delicately at my drink as I survey the room. The crowd swells between the foyer and the Great Hall and all royal-blooded parties seem suitably occupied. I scan the room one more time, feeling a twinge of nervousness when I fail to locate Will. His absence hopefully means that he won't be disrupting the jailbreak, but I would have liked to reassure myself with one last glimpse of him. Nothing for it: it's now or never.

I step down off the staircase and into the hallway that runs alongside the Great Hall, placing my drink on a side table and holding up my skirts as I quicken my steps. The crowd has thinned here and I tread silently down the path before slipping through the servants' east door, emerging just outside the courtyard on the side nearest the gaol.

As I predicted, no one is about. The last shift change has ensured that the guards are all at their designated stations. This route should be clear long enough for me to make four trips between the gaol and the courtyard without being noticed.

After glancing once more over my shoulder, I slip into the alleyway behind the gaol and retrieve my guard's uniform from the ale barrel. I hitch up my skirts and pull the guard's trousers and tunic on over my dress, tucking away the bright fabric before I reach for the armoured breastplate and belt. I kick off my sandals and stick my feet into the boots, then affix the sword to my belt. Finally, I secure my hair back beneath the hood and pull the dark scarf up over my face.

I inspect the pouch at my waist. Inside are a flask filled with spirit and mixed with the dried mushroom I borrowed from Will, some strips of leather thong and spare handkerchiefs. Satisfied, I stick my head out of the alleyway, checking that the coast is clear before I take a deep breath and stride purposefully to the gaol's front entrance.

Pushing open the heavy front door, I exchange a cursory nod with the gate guard. He barely glances at me before rising to his feet with a groan and reaching for the keys at his waist.

"The party showin' any signs of slowin' down?" he asks conversationally as I move toward the open gate.

"No sir, it'll be going on 'til dawn at least," I reply.

I pass him, then spin in place, grip the hilt of my sword and whip it free of the scabbard. The poor man barely gets a chance to register what's happened before I pummel him on the back of the head and his unconscious form crashes to the ground.

There is no turning back now.

I retrieve two pieces of thong and a handkerchief from my pouch; quickly I bind the man's hands and feet before gagging him tightly. I lift his shoulders and drag him so that he is hidden behind the desk. Hopefully, I will have time to get back up here and retrieve him before he wakes up. For now I will just have to pray that no one comes in and notices a passed-out, trussed-up gate guard.

Grabbing the keys from where they fell, I descend the stairs as quickly as I dare without my footsteps raising an alarm. I slow my pace near the bottom, recalling the way sound echoes in the dank space.

I turn right at the end of the hall, aiming for the table where my two favourite bozos have already begun helpfully drinking themselves into a stupor. The sour scent of bad whisky hits my nostrils and, as I draw up next to their table.

"Ah remember you." The larger man cracks one eye open as he regards me.

"Mind if I join?" I ask.

He lifts his glass and I sink down into the third chair, taking care to keep my face out of the lantern light. Bozo number two sits across from me, already slouched forward and half-asleep. He utters a healthy snort as I settle myself.