He briefly thought about climbing rapidly, in an effort to escape, regardless of the soot he would unsettle and the noise he would make. Kre shifted slightly, preparing to make a break and climb higher, but then Kitalia’s face flashed in his mind. He could hear her now, chastising him for failing to follow her directions exactly and for revealing their escape route.
With that in mind, he slowly settled back into position, trying to find a spot where he could use his legs and back to support his weight comfortably. He kept an eye out below for any heads to pop in, peering upwards, but none came. He could still hear the shuffling of feet and muffled voices from the room below, and he closed his eyes and tilted his head to try and focus his hearing.
“…panel, opens up between… rooms. Oiled hinges…”
“Look for more panels… if there’s one… will be another. Check ceilings… under beds… pry up every floorboard.”
A grin spread across Kre’s face. They were looking for an escape hatch in the walls, not for a path through the chimney. It appeared that Kitalia had made the right call.
He realized then that he couldn’t admit that to her or there’d be no hearing the end of it.
It took about ten minutes before the sounds of furious smashing and breaking began to die down, amid yells and curses at having found nothing of note.
“Pathfinder Graz,” someone from below yelled, “one of the criminals upstairs said that he saw them sneaking out the back about two minutes before we arrived. They’ve been keeping us here as a diversion and to give them time to escape. Said they were headed east, intending to get passage on a ship.”
“Probably lies,” muttered the voice Kre had mostly been hearing. “Still, there’s no sign of them here. Leave a squad here and send the rest of the men out. Find them.”
“Yes sir!” Even from the chimney, Kre could hear the response loud and clear as it was yelled in sync by nearly a score of men. More tromping of boots and then silence.
Kre waited a good twenty count before he figured it would be safe to move. Just as he was about to shift his weight though, he saw a sword blade poke into the fire below.
The steel sword sifted through the ash, stoking up the fire a bit. “No one kills my Rangers,” the voice identified earlier as Pathfinder Graz growled. “No one.”
The sword blade suddenly thrust forward, splitting one of the lit logs in twain and sending up a shower of sparks. The sound of sword sliding home in a sheath echoed up the chimney. Then, boots exiting the room.
This time, Kre counted to a hundred before he restarted his climb up. He estimated it to be about twenty feet before the stone walls transitioned to some sort of hard wood. It was an odd change, one that he did not expect. No one made chimneys with wood, though at least this far up, the smoke would have cooled off enough that it would pose no threat to the wood.
Another dozen feet of climbing and he was starting to get tired and sore. He felt as if his body had already taken so much abuse today that this was just getting to be too much. Twice, his foot slipped and twice more he had to pause for a rest.