"We can't go back! If we leave before we pay off the Count..." the halfling began. Emmaline threw up her and and there was a bright golden flash a crossbow bolt intersected with her shielding spell.

"Sounds like we can file that under your problem," Emmaline called. Several cloaked men were trying to force their way through the brawl, clearly with murdeer on their minds.

"Time to go," Emmaline urged, tugging on Malcador's sleeve.

"You are wizards, help me get his Excellency to saftey and you will be well rewarded!" 

Emmaline glanced back at the closing assassins, she very much doubted they would let them just walk out. There was a whisper of magic in the air that made her ring throb. Someone was using one of the darker winds, Shadow or Death magic, to keep the tavern isolated from the rest of the City. There was no way tthey could keep that up for long, the assassination had been botched and help would come sooner or later.

"Let's get him up the stairs at least," Emmaline urged.

"I note you aren't trying to lift him," Malcador observed archly as he grabbed on of Clodfoot's arms and started hauling the halfling up the stairs.

"I'm the rearguard!" Emmaline snapped.

"Well it is a fine rear," Malcador observed.

"Very fine," the Halfling guard agreed as they got Clodfoot to the top of the stairs and out of immediate danger. Emmaline lay her hands on the iron handrail aand muttered a spell. The wrought iron began to writhe beneath her hands and then began to hiss as it transformed into a metallic snake which began to sweep its head back and forth, discouraging anyone else from trying the stairs. They dragged Clodfoot into a well appointed room in which another halfling sat upon a locked chest the size of a man, a blunderbuss looking huge in his hands.

"Gold..." Emmaline breathed, staring at the chest as though the gun didn't even exist.