& sixth

[quu]

With the essentials arranged and the party more or less outfitted, Joffrey led them from the armory. And as they departed, he nodded to his darkling lieutenant, who stayed behind. Evidently she had some words to share with the guards.

"I think it is unwise to rouse any further suspicion," he declares, not to anyone in particular. "We shall have to disguise you, if you are to leave the city unhindered. A troupe of actors, perhaps. Or merchants. Your transport awaits outside."

Attentive members of the team may note that for some reason there are very few persons of any sort wandering the halls in Joffrey's wake. Either he is leading them into a less-used portion of the palace, or perhaps it is only the late hour that was to blame. The torches and candelabrae struggle against the cool black syrup of the night; footsteps echo louder, and the sinister penitent hissing of night-beetles creeps in through the windows.

Eventually a rough stone gallery opens before them. In the overhang outside, the party might espy an empty carriage of six seats, and a team of horses whose color was lost in the low light.



A crisp, brisk thrill hangs in the air: the promise of adventures to come.

Joffrey draws the group into a rather musty little room and shuts the door behind them, which plunges them all into pitch blackness.