The rat scurried up to his side and twitched its nose before it jerked its head leftward. “Lead the way and you’ll get even more cheese,” Ramaro promised.
The rat squeaked and scurried down the hall. Ramaro followed, and they soon stopped in front of a small cell with thick bars. Marc sat in front of the bars with his bright eye zeroed in on them the moment they came in sight.
A faint smile touched his lips. “About time. How’s Rose?”
“I’m fine after being knocked about so many times,” Ramaro quipped as he scurried through the bars. “Now, lie down so I can get that off you.”
Marc did as he requested while the rat hurried up to them. The animal squeaked and rubbed its stomach. Marc reached into his coat and opened a hidden pocket. He drew out a gold coin and handed it to the rodent. “This should pay for the cheese you want.”
The rodent snatched the coin and scurried off.
“Good thing I didn’t give him anything before he showed me the way. . .” Ramaro grumbled.
“How’s the collar going?” Marc wondered.
The lock made a twanging noise, and the collar popped open. “These guys need to try harder with their spells.”
“I hope they don’t,” Marc mused as he snatched the pick from Ramaro’s tail and stood in front of the door, where he proceeded to pick the lock. “So Rose is doing well?”
“As well as can be expected,” Ramaro mused as he sauntered through the bars.
The lock clicked, and Marc stepped out. “Go check out the jailer’s desk route.”
Ramaro rolled his eyes, but scurried down the hall. Marc slunk after him. Most of the other cells were empty except for a few with unlively guests. He reached an intersection and peeked around the corner. The jailer’s desk could be seen five yards away. Ramaro scurried over the man’s feet, plopped himself beside one, and licked his lips. He opened his mouth wide and chomped down on the jailer’s leg just above the boot.
The man screamed and jumped out of his chair. He hopped around with Ramaro still tightly stuck to him. Marc slipped around the corner, clapped his hand on the bouncing man’s shoulder, and spun him around so they faced each other.
The jailer’s eyes widened. “You-”
Whatever else he wanted to say was interrupted with a punch from Marc. The jailer stumbled backward and crashed into his chair, where he slumped to the ground. Ramaro gladly released him and spat out spittle.
“The things I do for you,” he grumbled.
“I’ll pay you back when we get Rose out,” Marc promised as they strode up the nearby stairs.
They reached the ground floor and the door that led to the courtyard. Marc peeked out and glimpsed a small contingent of Ironshores.
Ramaro stuck his head out the door and flicked his tongue. “That’s a lot of people to get past.”
“You think you can goad them into making you a firing target?”
Ramaro’s jaw dropped open. “A target? You think I could dodge that many whistlequills?”
“They might not all have them.”
“That’s a very iffy might.”
“It’s for Rose.”
Ramaro huffed, but slipped out. Marc watched the agama slip up to the nearest guard and stop at his boot. Rather than take a bite, Ramaro ran up the man’s leg and snatched his whistlequill from the holster at his hip. The lizard zipped down and darted off toward the gate.
“Hey!” the man shouted as he raced after Ramaro. “That thing stole my weapon!”
“Is there a reward for catching him?” one of his kind compatriots wondered.
“If there isn’t, then you’re on your own!” another quipped, causing the others to burst out laughing.
The victim spun around to face him. “The one to catch him gets a free drink!”
