ce?, Spyder wondered.
They went through underground vaults and what looked like old sewer sluiceways. Occasionally, they would meet another group moving in the opposite direction. Some were dressed in rags, some looked like ordinary city dwellers, while others looked like escapees from some particularly mean and decrepit Renaissance Faire. The groups never acknowledged each other. Spyder got the impression that the passages werent the safest place to be.
Up ahead, he noticed that Primo had slowed down and was nervously wringing his hands. At a watery inter-section that reminded Spyder of the high gothic sewers where Orson Welles met his bloody fate at the end of The Third Man, Primo stopped. The little man turned in slow circles, peering into the distance. He stared hard at the walls, as if looking for a message.
"Whats wrong?" asked Shrike.
"Our transport isnt here. A tuk-tuk was supposed to be waiting. "
"Did Madame Cinders pay them in advance?"
"Naturally. "
"That was your mistake. "
"No. She knows this family well. They are reliable. Thats why she employs only them to transport her guests. "
"Maybe they broke down," said Shrike. "If they were anywhere nearby, we could hear the damned racket from the tuk-tuks engine. "
"We shouldnt remain still too long. Its dangerous. I suppose we should start walking. "
"That would be my suggestion," said Shrike. Spyder didnt like the idea of being in the passages any longer that they had to. He looked back the way they had come and saw things moving in the darkness. Golden eyes glinted and slid along the floor. Spyder caught up to Shrike and made sure not to fall behind agai
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