Luck in the Shadows (46 page)

Alec went to the bed and looked more closely at the clothing.

“So Lord Seregil will be returning to the city in time to prepare for the Festival of Sakor, as usual?” observed Micum. “And not alone this time?”

Seregil nodded. “I bring young Sir Alec, only child and last surviving heir of Sir Gareth of Ivywell, a genteel but impoverished Mycenian baron. In hopes of giving his scion a chance in life, Sir Gareth has left his son ward to an old and trusted friend, Lord Seregil of Rhíminee.”

“No wonder he died poor,” Micum threw in wryly. “Sir Gareth seems to have been a man of questionable judgment.”

Ignoring this, Seregil confined his attention to Alec. “By situating the now defunct and completely fictitious estate of Ivywell in the most remote region of Mycena, we kill several birds at a shot. Any unusual mannerisms you might display will be put down to your provincial upbringing. There’s also less chance that anyone will expect to know a common acquaintance. Thus Sir Alec’s background is at once suitably genteel and safely obscure.”

“The fact that he’s neither Skalan nor Aurënfaie would make him a tempting target for any Leran hoping to get at Lord Seregil,” added Micum.

“A jilt!” said Alec.

“A what?” laughed Seregil.

“A jilt, the bait,” he explained. “If you want to trap something
big, like a bear or mountain cat, you stake out a kid and wait for your beast to show up.”

“All right, then. You’d be our jilt. If any bears do show up, just be your sweet, innocent self, feed them everything we want them to know, and report everything they say back to me.”

“But how would they get to me?” asked Alec.

“That won’t be difficult. Lord Seregil’s a social sort. His house in the Noble Quarter has already been opened and word’s getting around. I’m sure the news will reach the right ears sooner or later. In a few days we’ll throw a big party to introduce you to society.”

Micum favored his friend with an affectionate grin. “You scheming bastard! So what else did you get up to while we were gone?”

“Well, it’s taken until today, but I think I’ve found our forger. You recall Master Alben?”

“That blackmailing apothecary you burgled a few years back during that business for Lady Mina?”

“That’s the one. He’s moved his shop to Hind Street since then.”

“How’d you find him?”

“I was pretty certain Ghemella was our seal forger. Since she also buys stolen papers, I planted some of mine with her and last night she led me straight to him. It’s only a matter now of finding his cache to see if there’s anything useful to be had. If he is the one who forged the letter from me, then my guess is he’s probably made a copy or two for himself just to hedge his bets. And if we can get our hands on those we can squeeze him for names.”

“Is that the job tonight?” asked Alec, an eager gleam in his eye. “The sooner we clear your name, the better.”

Seregil smiled. “Your concern for my tattered honor is deeply appreciated, Sir Alec, but we’ll need another day or so to prepare for that one. Don’t fret, now. Everything’s under control. In the meantime, however, I think you’ll find tonight’s little exercise worthy of your new skills.”

Wheel Street, a quiet, respectable boulevard of modest back garden villas, lay on the fringe of the Noble Quarter. Well dressed so as to attract no attention, Alec strolled along beside
Seregil and Micum just after dark—three gentlemen out enjoying the night air.

The narrow houses were decorated Skalan style with mosaics and carvings. The ground level of some had been converted into shops; in the dimness Alec made out the signs of a tailor, a hat maker, and a gem dealer. The street ended in a small circular court in front of a public stable. Riders and carriages bustled in all directions; the sounds of entertainment could be heard here and there as they walked past.

“That’s ours, the one with the grapevine pattern over the door,” whispered Seregil, indicating a brightly lit house across the way. “Belongs to a minor lord with some connection to shipping. No family, three servants: the old manservant, a cook, and the maid.”

Several horses were tethered in front and they could hear the noise of pipes and fiddles being tuned.

“Sounds like he’s having a party,” whispered Micum. “Suppose he’s engaged extra servants, for the evening?”

“Those can be the worst sort, forever bumbling into places the regular staff can be counted on not to go,” Seregil warned Alec. “And guests, too! Keep your ears open and remember, all we’re after is a correspondence case. In and out, nothing fancy. According to my information, he keeps the case in a desk in his study, that room there at the left corner of the second floor, overlooking the street.”

More carriages rumbled by, destined for houses up and down the cobbled street. “It’s too busy out here,” said Alec. “Is there a back way in?”

Seregil nodded. “The house backs onto a walled garden, and a common beyond. This way.”

Crossing the street a few houses down, they went through a narrow alley into the little common. Such areas had been left open throughout the city to assure pasturage in time of siege. At the moment it was occupied by a flock of sleeping geese and a few pigs.

Creeping softly along, they counted gates until they found the one leading into the back garden of the house in question. The wall was high, the gate stoutly barred from within.

“Looks like you’ll have to climb,” Seregil whispered, squinting up. “Be careful going over; most of these places have the walls topped with spikes or sharp flints.”

“Hold on!” Alec tried to make out Seregil’s expression through the darkness. “Aren’t you two coming with me?”

“It’s a one-man job; the fewer the better,” Seregil assured him. “I thought this is what you wanted, a first trial on your own?”

“Well, I—”

“Would I send you in alone if I didn’t think you could handle it?” Seregil scoffed. “Of course not! Best leave me your sword, though.”

“What?” Alec hissed. “I thought I had to be armed so I could
do
jobs!”

“Generally speaking, yes. But not this time.”

“What if someone sees me?”

“Honestly, Alec! You can’t just go hacking your way out of every difficult situation that arises. It’s uncivilized,” Seregil replied sternly. “This is a gentleman’s house; you’re dressed as a gentleman. If anyone catches you, just act chagrined and drunk, then claim to have stumbled into the wrong house.”

Feeling a good deal less confident all of a sudden, Alec unbuckled his sword and started up the garden wall. He was halfway to the top when Micum called softly, “We’ll meet you back here when you’ve finished. Oh, and look out for the dogs.”

“Dogs?” Alec dropped down again. “What dogs? You didn’t say anything about dogs!”

Seregil tapped himself sharply between the eyes. “Illior’s Fingers, what
am
I thinking of tonight? There’s a pair of Zengati hounds, snow-white and big as bears.”

“That’s a fine detail to forget,” growled Micum.

“Here, let me show you what to do.” Taking Alec’s left hand, Seregil folded down all the fingers except the index and fourth, then turned the palm downward.

“There. All you have to do is look the dog in the eye, make the sign by snapping the little finger down—like this—and say ‘Peace, friend hound’ as you do it.”

“I’ve seen you do that trick. That’s not what you said,” Alec remarked, repeating the hand sign.

“Soora thasáli
, you mean? Well, you can say it in Aurënfaie if you like. I just thought it might be easier for you to remember in your own language.”

“Peace, friend hound,” Alec repeated, performing the hand sign. “Anything else I should know?”

“Let’s see, the spikes, the dogs, the servants—No, I think we covered it that time. Luck in the shadows, Alec.”

“And to you,” Alec muttered, starting up the wall again.

The top of the wall was indeed set with spikes and thick shards of broken crockery. Clinging to the edge of the wall, he pulled his cloak up from behind and wadded it up on top of the sharp points in front of him. Hooking an elbow over the thick material, he tugged the cloak strings loose from his neck.

The garden below appeared to be empty, though muffled sounds of the familiar kitchen variety issued from a half-open door at the back of the house. Hitching himself swiftly over the top of the wall, Alec lowered himself by his fingertips and dropped down the other side.

The garden centered on an oval pool. Graveled walkways showed pale in the darkness between planting beds and leafless trees. An especially large tree growing close to the carved balcony running the length of the second story looked to provide the easiest way in.

The shadows closed in around Alec as he stole toward the tree. He moved silently, careful to avoid the gravel paths. He was in reach of the trunk when something large stirred just beside him. Hot, wet jaws closed firmly on his right arm, just above the elbow.

The white hound might not have been quite as large as a bear, but Alec was not about to argue the point. The beast did not growl or tear at him, but held him fast, regarding him with eyes that shone yellow in the dimness.

Fighting down the impulse to struggle or cry out, Alec quickly made the left-handed sign and croaked, “
Soora
, friend hound.”

Not seeming to mind the mixed translation, the dog obliged immediately, padding off into the darkness without a backward glance. Alec was up the tree and reaching for the marble balustrade almost before he realized he was moving again.

Dry leaves had collected in little piles on the balcony. Stepping over these, he inspected the two windows that flanked an ornate door leading into the house; the door was locked, the darkened windows covered with heavy shutters.

With a silent nod to Illior, he set to work on the door. Sliding a wire along the edge, he found three separate locks. Moving on to the larger window, he found two equally stubborn mechanisms
there. The third window, scarcely large enough to admit a child, was secured with a single shutter.

During a lesson on housebreaking, Seregil had once remarked that the way least likely was often least barred. Alec pulled a thin strip of limewood from the roll and worked it around the edges of the shutter. In less than a minute he found the two hooks securing it. These yielded readily and the shutter swung back to expose a small panel of leaded glass. The room beyond was quite dark.

Praying that any occupant would have set up an alarm by now, he went to work with the wire again and threw the single hasp lock with no difficulty at all. The pane swung in on silence. Slipping the tools back into his coat, Alec pulled himself up by the window frame and wriggled in feet first. Lowering himself into the room, his foot struck something that overturned with a clatter.

He dropped in with his back to the wall and listened for an outcry; none came. Groping in the darkness, he pulled out the lightstone.

An overturned washstand lay on the floor beside him.
Thank the gods for carpets!
he thought wryly, righting it and replacing the basin and pitcher.

The spacious bedchamber was plainly furnished by Rhíminee standards. A broad bed with hangings of translucent silk took up much of one end of the room. A dressing gown draped carelessly across the foot and a thick book propped open against the bolsters, together with the remains of a fire on the marble hearth, all warned of recent occupation.

There were several tall wardrobes and chests against the other walls. A gaming table stood next to the single deep armchair drawn up before the fireplace. Thick, patterned carpet gave underfoot as Alec moved across to an interior door. Finding it unlocked, he pocketed the light and took a cautious peek through.

A corridor ran the length of this level, with several other doors on each side. Halfway down the right-hand wall was a staircase leading down. Light came up from below, and with it music and the sounds of lively conversation.

Alec stepped out into the corridor and closed the door of the bedroom behind him. Picturing the location of the study, he moved quickly down the corridor to a pair of doors at the far end. The one in question was secured with a complicated lock.

Feeling nervous and exposed, Alec tried one pick and then another. Twirling a third in, he closed his eyes and explored the wards by feel.

The master of the house evidently set great value on privacy; like those on the windows, this was no common device. The endless lessons at Seregil’s workbench paid off, however. The lock gave and he was in.

A writing desk and chair stood between two tall windows overlooking the street. A glance outside found the avenue busier than ever. Pulling the drapes shut, Alec took out the lightstone and sat down to begin his search.

A few items lay arranged in orderly fashion on the polished desktop: ink wells, a bundle of uncut quills, and a sand shaker stood ready on a silver tray beside a tidy stack of parchments. Next to these was an empty dispatch box. Finding nothing of note, he moved on to the drawers.

The wide central drawer was flanked by two narrow ones. The central one was locked but yielded readily. Inside were packets of correspondence tied up with silk cord, a stick of sealing wax, a sand brush, and a penknife.

The left drawer was lined with silk and contained four locks of hair. Each had been carefully tied up with ribbon and one, a thick curl of raven black, was adorned with a jeweled pin. Reaching over these tokens, Alec found a velvet pouch containing a thick golden ring and a small ivory carving of a nude man.

The third drawer held a more mundane collection—used blotting paper, wax tablets, styluses, a tangled skein of twine, a litter of gaming stones—but nothing resembling a correspondence case. Going to the door, Alec checked the corridor again and then continued with his task.

Pulling out all three drawers, he lined them up and discovered the narrow ones to be a full hand’s-breadth shorter than the central.

The desk was a casework piece, enclosed on the bottom as well as the sides. Peering in, he saw that the cavity for the central drawer ran to the back of the desk, separated from the side drawers by thin wooden dividers on either side. These also ran the depth of the desk. Small leather-faced blocks were fixed to the bottom of the cavity to keep the drawer flush with the front skirt when closed. Similar stop blocks were in the side drawer tracks, but there was a difference. Just behind these, the cavities ended
in wooden panels that sealed off whatever space lay beyond. Inexperienced he might be, but the whole costly, overly complicated structure of the piece seemed to promise at least one secret compartment.