Wicked Gentlemen (26 page)

Harper caught Belimai's hand gently and pulled him closer.

 
"Do you remember the first time we slept together?" he asked.

"Yes." Belimai frowned slightly at the change of subject. "You were so drunk I'd be surprised if you did, though."

"I remember the morning after," Harper went on. "You wanted to make sure that I didn't harbor any romantic inclination toward you. I assured you that I didn't."

"I remember." Belimai watched him intently, as if the next words Harper said might cause the floor to collapse beneath them both.

"I may have lied," Harper admitted after a moment.

The change in Belimai's expression was fractional. The corners of his mouth curved up only an increment. His thin, black eyebrows lifted just a breath. It was only the slightest smile, but there was an open, joyful honesty to it that Harper had never seen in Belimai before.

"I'm glad to hear that," Belimai replied. He dropped down on to the bed beside Harper and leaned against him. The heat of Belimai's body soaked through the chill of Harper's clothes. Harper wrapped his arms around Belimai, taking comfort in the simple sensation of holding him.

"Harper?" Belimai asked after several minutes.

"Yes?"

"What's that in the bed?" Belimai pointed to where the crushed remains of a golden pastry lay pressed between two folds of the blanket. Harper laughed. He had forgotten about the butter pastries Morris had given him. It felt like that had happened days ago.

"My breakfast. There should be another one around here somewhere."

"I see." Belimai picked the pastry up. He examined its stiff, flattened form for a moment, then took a bite.

"A little stale, but still edible." Belimai held it out to him. "Hungry?"

"I don't suppose there would be anything else to eat here, would there?" Harper asked.

"I might still have a few decayed biscuits from when I was still bothering to poison the rats."

"You're not much of one for domestic bliss, are you?" Harper took a bite out of the butter pastry. It wasn't as bad as he expected. The slightly salty flavor reminded him a little of Belimai's skin. He took another bite.

"You're hardly one to talk," Belimai replied. "I've seen your townhouse. At least I have things on the walls.. .Well, on the floor now, but that's not my fault. Did you just eat all of that pastry?"

"There's another one in the bed somewhere," Harper replied after swallowing the last bite.

"Fine. Leave it to me to root around in the bed, searching for bits of food." Belimai shifted through the blankets and then frowned down over the edge of the bed. "It seems to have gone missing. Hey, there's my shoe though."

"I've already eaten my fill. The shoe's all yours," Harper replied.

"Very funny." Belimai pulled the shoe out from under the bed, then sat back up beside Harper. "So what are we going to do now?" he asked.

"I don't know," Harper replied.

"Don't you?" Belimai glanced at him.

"What do you mean?"

"You know very well what I mean. It isn't like you to not have a plan in mind. I doubt that you'd even be here if you weren't planning something."

Harper kept silent.

"Harper, I almost turned myself over to the Inquisition because I didn't know what was really going on," Belimai said. "Just tell me, all right?"

"You shouldn't get involved in this," Harper said.

"I shouldn't, but I'm going to. I know myself well enough to guarantee that I won't just sit here thumbing through some cheap novel while you're being hunted down by the Inquisition. You wouldn't let me do something like that alone; why should I let you?"

Harper gazed at Belimai for several moments. His argument was absurd and exasperating, but it was also right. Had their positions been reversed, Harper would never have abandoned Belimai, not even if Belimai told him to. He wouldn't have been able to respect himself if he did such a thing. At last he sighed and stood up.

"Let's go then," he said, "I'll explain things along the way."

Belimai shot up onto his feet with a victorious smile.

"If it makes any difference," he said as he pulled on his shoes, "I lied that first morning too."

"Really?" Harper asked.

"I did know where your cap was."

Harper smiled. "I thought as much."

Chapter Twelve

Dumbwaiter

The full moon glowed behind the clouds like a paper
 
lantern hanging in the night sky. Diffused light gleamed off the wet stones of the White Chapel walls. The rain still fell, but not heavily. Harper hardly noticed it. It had been days since he had been completely dry.

At least the miserable weather kept the guards in the back kitchen near the fire. The rain disinclined them to investigate trivial noises or notice shadowy forms moving through the haze. They hunched by the bread ovens and sipped warmed cider as Harper and Belimai crept past.

The guards could afford to be a little careless. There was only one way to break into White Chapel, and that was to climb up to the wide windows at the very top of the massive structure. The rain served the guards far better than it did any intruder. Even on a dry night, the barbed bars and sheer stone offered little climbing surface. Tonight, the wet walls glistened like glass.

Harper cursed silently as his hand skidded off a smooth corner and he began to slip. He lunged forward and grasped one of the window bars. The curving barbs of iron bit into his gloves. Harper pulled himself up before the metal tore into his hand.

Harper would have preferred to go on another night, but he didn't have time to waste. He didn't want to give Abbot Greeley a chance to find Brandson or move Lord Cedric.

He hefted himself over the iron rods to another barred window and balanced his weight on the thin lip of stone above the bars. Slowly he stretched up and groped for a hold higher up on the wall. Rain spattered against his face as he squinted up at the pale stones. He ran his gloved hands across the wet surfaces. The scabbed cut in his right palm throbbed with each motion.

At last he worked his fingers between cracks in the masonry and braced his hands.

His sore arms and back strained as he pulled himself up. A sharp pain jumped through his hand as the scab on his palm broke open. A warm gush of blood soaked through his glove and his right hand slipped. Animal panic shot through him as he swung out over the empty air of the four-story fall. He clenched his left hand desperately against the edges of stone and tried to regain his hold.

Suddenly, hot fingers grasped his right wrist. Belimai lunged down from the air and pulled Harper back against the wall. Harper felt tremors of exertion shake through Belimai's arms. Harper wedged his right foot into a crack in the stonework and pushed himself up to a thin ledge.

It was nothing more than a narrow water pipe, barely wide enough for Harper to stand on, but it held his weight. Belimai simply drifted in the air in front of him.

"You should have just let me do this. I could reach those windows easily," Belimai whispered.

"You don't know the way the building is laid out. You'd be lost once you were inside," Harper whispered back. "Did you get any of the windows open?" "One, but it's narrow." "I'll manage. Where is it from here?" Belimai turned and gazed through the darkness and rain that blinded Harper. He shifted just slightly, and the air around him twisted and turned like an extension of his body, catching him as he moved. Watching him made Harper feel slightly nervous and sick. His body revolted at the mere idea of simply step-ping out into the air.

Belimai turned back to Harper. "If you can follow this pipe about four feet, there's a deep crevice where a chunk of stone has come out of the mortar. That might work for a grip. The windowsill is above that."

Harper inched his way along the pipe, pressing close to the wall. Under the soft patter of the rain he could hear the minute creeks and moans as the pipe began to fold under his weight. He kept moving until, suddenly, the constant splashes of rain stopped. He looked up into the dark shadows of the overhanging windowsill.

"Can you reach the ledge?" Belimai asked from behind him.

"Not from here. The sill juts out too far," Harper said. The pipe under his left foot suddenly crumpled. Harper shifted his weight quickly, but it would only be a matter of moments before the rest of the pipe gave also.

"You're going to have to lift me up onto the sill."

"I don't think I could lift you—"

"I'll kick off from the wall to get out past the overhang. You use my momentum to push me up." Another section of the pipe folded under Harper's feet.

"This pipe's about to snap," Harper said flatly.

"I'll get you up there." Belimai moved in close behind him.

"On three." Harper drew in a deep breath. " One. Two. Three."

It took all of his will to throw himself out into the empty sky. Instinctively, his eyes squeezed shut, as if to spare him from the sight of what he had just done. His momentum pitched him out past the overhang of the windowsill. He felt Belimai's hands against the base of his back. A hard shove drove him upward. His stomach and chest slammed suddenly against a stone surface. Harper clung to it.

For a moment he simply hung there, catching his breath and calming his racing heart. Then he squeezed through the window. Belimai followed him inside.

The room was tiny and dark. Harper reached out and felt a cool surface of porcelain and then the narrow lines of water pipes. The last time he had been in White Chapel, the new flushing toilet hadn't been fully installed. Now it seemed to be up and running, though he wasn't sure how much damage he had just done to the pipes outside.

"Do you know where we are?" Belimai sounded a little out of breath from hurling him up to the window.

"In the new water-closet." Harper cracked the door and peered out into the hallway. Three gas lamps flickered on the walls, but the guards seemed to have already made their pass. The hall was empty for the moment.

"Cedric should be in the east wing. It's not too far from here." Harper had spent a long portion of the previous night and early morning watching the pale silhouettes of guards and servants in the upper rooms of White Chapel. He had seen which rooms were closed up for the evening and which received late services of wine. He had even caught a glimpse of Lord Cedric himself.

"Do you want me to follow you, or wait here?" Belimai asked. "Neither. There's a rung ladder at the west end of this hall. It leads up to the steeple tower. They used to store festival bells and ropes up there. I need you to find the ropes. That pipe isn't going to hold for the climb back down." "Should I meet you back here?"

He glanced back to Belimai. The tiny shaft of light that seeped in from the cracked door fell across his yellow eyes, lending them a glow. Droplets of rain glistened in his dark hair.

"No. Wait for me in the tower. You'd be a little obvious if anyone even caught a glimpse of you down in the halls. If you hear the alarms, leave the rope for me and get out."

Belimai frowned slightly at Harper's suggestion, but he didn't argue.

Harper knelt down and pulled off his wet boots. He didn't want to leave a set of muddy footprints.

"Take these with you." Harper handed Belimai his boots.

"Thanks, I'll cherish them always," Belimai replied.

"If I don't make it back, promise you'll be good to them." Harper wasn't surprised to see that the joke didn't even get a smile from Belimai.

"Be careful," Belimai told him.

"You too," Harper replied.

If they had been other people, Harper supposed, they might have said goodbye or good luck, but such exchanges held a distasteful trace of fatalism. Harper slipped out of the room. Behind him, Belimai crept down the hall to the rung ladder. Harper looked back to see Belimai climb up into the shadows of the steeple tower.

Harper turned back to his own task. The distance he had to cross was no more than the length of two city blocks, but it wound through a catacomb of patrolled halls, locked doors, and up a staircase. Harper took out the keys he had stolen from Brandson.

He listened intently as he crept past the doorways, down the halls. At the sound of approaching footsteps, he unlocked one of the empty rooms and slipped inside. He waited in the dark until the noise was well out of his hearing. It was easy to elude the guards. Their hard steps and heavy boots sounded clearly against the polished stone floors. The night maids, on the other hand, were as quiet as rabbits. Only the rustling of their dresses or an occasional whisper among them gave Harper any warning of their approach.

At last he reached the east wing and the room where he had seen Lord Cedric. He leaned against the frame and listened for sounds inside. The room was quiet, but not silent. Harper made out the scratching of a pen nib against paper. There was another noise also, something Harper didn't recognize. It was a soft, hollow smacking. Or perhaps a popping. The view through the keyhole only offered a glimpse of jewel blue carpet. Harper waited, straining to discern just how many people were inside the room and what they might be doing.