The Thief and the Fox Chapter 9 First Posted: 18/03/05 A Poisoned Dagger |
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Finding a new apartment at such short notice wasn’t easy, nor is it as safe as I would like but I don’t have much choice. Unfortunately, it cost most of my remaining coin. I won’t be leaving a single scrap of loot behind when I do the Rois-Dores job tonight. According to Tupper, there’s an abandoned well in an old part of the Highfort estate. I should be able to reach it through the old section of the sewers, as long as they haven’t collapsed. I don’t have an adequate map of that section of the sewers, so I’ll have to put my compass to good use, but it’s the least of my concerns. Getting safely out of Highfort with the goods is the real problem. If even half the rumours I’ve heard about the Rois-Dores guards are true, this will be one of the toughest heists I’ve ever pulled. The sun is swiftly approaching the horizon and in an hour the party-goers will begin arriving at Highfort. For me it’s almost time to start. Garrett’s feet kicked up ancient sewerage as he splashed through the calf deep sludge. He waved the torch through the gloom in front of him, hoping it would burn up the stench in the air. As he approached an intersection Garrett pulled his compass from his pouch and watched the needle settle on north. He looked down the passages that spread out from the intersection, branching out into a great warren of corridors. As long as he managed to keep winding his way in a general north-west direction he ought to reach the well. The flames of his torch danced and crackled in the sudden gust of wind that flowed down the tunnels and he carefully stowed his compass, turning away from the current of air. The ground beneath him rose in a gentle incline and he trudged ahead, breathing a sigh of relief as the water around his feet grew shallow. Large patches of soft green moss grew upon the walls and the further he went the denser it became. Soon it covered the walls completely and the ground too, encasing Garrett in a claustrophobic burrow of cool green foliage. He placed his feet carefully over the uneven ground, the moss giving way easily beneath his weight. Luminescent fungi had battled their way through the suffocating moss, adding their light to Garrett’s torch. At least with all the green the air smelt slightly fresher to Garrett, even if it still carried a hint of rot. The tunnel seemed to twist and turn for many lengths and without any sign of another intersection; Garrett feared he was drifting off course. If he didn’t start heading north-west again soon he would have to double back and try another route. The tunnel continued to slope upwards and Garrett now had to stoop to pass under the low ceiling. He paused to examine the path ahead where the fungi and moss seemed to come to a dead halt, with nothing but gaping black beyond. Garrett extinguished his torch and waited for his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Slowly he crept toward the darkness. What he discovered was that the tunnel actually fed into a large chamber and he was perched high on one wall. The odd toadstool protruded from cracks in the walls and lit the chamber sufficiently for his night eyes. Garrett heard a slow scuttle approaching from one of the large corridors that entered the chamber and he flattened himself against the ground. A gigantic spider ambled into view and Garrett shuddered at the sight of its blank eyes and swollen abdomen. He unslung his bow and notched it with a broad head arrow. The bowstring groaned softly as Garrett aimed at the spider’s head. He lined up one of its gleaming black eyes in his sights and let loose. The spider reared back with an inhuman scream as the arrow-tip punched through its eye and into its brain. Eight legs thrashed wildly on the cobble-stones and the great beast lurched sideways like a drunkard before it collapsed to the ground. Garrett watched it carefully as the twitching legs slowly subsided and when the monster was finally silent he leapt down into the chamber. One of the entrances to the chamber had been closed off by a rockslide so Garrett took the passage opposite the direction the spider had entered, heading south-west. He decided to spare his torch as the toadstools provided ample enough light for him. Somewhere ahead of him he could hear the gentle lapping of water and he quickened his pace. Rats scurried into hiding at the sound of his approach and the sound of running water grew ever stronger. Garrett entered into another small chamber that was strewn with debris and seemed ready to collapse upon him. A stream of water gently flowed beneath the access grate in the centre of the room. Garrett heaved the grate open and jumped back as it broke from its rusted hinges. The grate barely missed his toes as it fell to the stones, the thunderous crash echoing painfully in his ears. Garrett tried to peer below the ripples of the cool water but could see very little. Without a second thought he took a gulping breath and dove into the water. It was terribly cold, but at least it was clean and Garrett moved against the current, half swimming and half hauling himself along the uneven edges of the stream. Garrett ignored the desperate agony that slowly began to build in his lungs as he continued on. Though the current was not strong it still pulled against his body and he could feel his arms beginning to tire. Ahead he could see what seemed like the barest hint of moonlight spearing into the dark canal. He released what little was left of the air in his lungs as he swam into the light and rushed toward the surface. Garrett broke though into the well, gasping in the cold, dank air. He was tempted to tread water for a moment to regain the strength in his arms, but he was beginning to shiver in the cold water. Garrett looked up the daunting height of the well and could see the gnarled boughs of ancient trees stretching over it like giant arms. The moonlight streamed down on his face, sneaking through the foliage and Garrett readied a rope arrow. It was not easy trying to keep his body above the surface of the water long enough to fire the arrow, but he managed. Garrett grunted with satisfaction as he heard the arrow burrow deep into the branch of one of the trees. He tested the rope with a quick tug then began to pull himself upward. The rope was wet and he found it difficult to grasp it, but as he rose out of the water he was able to plant his feet against the wall for extra purchase. ‘At least,’ He thought as he approached the top of the well, ‘I won’t be coming back this way.’ But it was a thought that did not comfort him greatly. Garrett began to rock his body from side to side as he cleared the lip of the well. As soon as the rope angled over the well and toward solid ground he released his hold and landed neatly in the waist high undergrowth. Over the riotous buzz of insects Garrett could hear faint music playing and he muscled his way through the wild, unkempt plants that tangled around each other. Twigs and thorns snagged on his clothes and he had to use his sword to slash his way through some of the more compact plants. An ancient wrought iron gate loomed over Garrett, twice as tall as a man and choked with vines. Garrett forced all his weight against the gate and it strained against the creepers that bound it, opening slightly. He pushed again and it moved another inch. He wove his way through the vines and tried to wedge himself through the gap in the gate. The rusty iron scraped against his chest as he squeezed through and tried to break through the vines on the other side. Patiently he worked his way through the choking plants and eventually managed to disentangle himself. He found himself in a wide orchard and at the end of it was Highfort, the colossal home of the Rois-Dores’. The original stronghold of the Dores’ had been a stone keep, which now sat at the heart of the manor. Renovations and restorations had been carried out by almost every successor of the family until the building was grander than any other in the City. Garrett had to admit that the architecture of the building was tasteful and stylish and not given to the excesses of vogue that most old families preferred to demonstrate with their homes. If the structure of their domain was anything to go by it seemed sense and subtlety were Dores family traits. ‘Time to rob them blind.’ He thought to himself with glee as he crept through the dark orchard. There were guards at every door, outstanding in their trim black and red uniforms. They glared at the guests brazenly, scrutinising each as they passed to and from the gardens. More guards patrolled in pairs around the perimeter of the manor, weapons within easy reach as they scanned their surroundings diligently. Garrett whistled softly as he watched them strut with military precision, every move and expression revealing their level of discipline and dedication to duty. This was definitely not the common riff-raff he was so used to dealing with. Lights blazed in every window on the ground floor, but the first and second storeys were almost entirely dark. If he could somehow get up to the first floor he probably wouldn’t have many guards to deal with. He gave a wide berth to the couple that embraced in the dark beneath an apple tree and crouched down at the edge of the orchard, just beyond the reach of the light that spilled from the high, arched windows. The musicians played tirelessly, the melodies barely carrying over the chatter and laughter that issued from within the manor. At least all the sound would cover any of Garrett’s activities. He passed into long rows of grapevines as he made his way toward the rear of the mansion. There were guards stationed outside both rear entrances to the fort. From what information Tupper had given Garrett one was the kitchen entrance and the other was to the Highfort Barracks. Even with half the Dores fighting force gone off to war, Garrett didn’t feel much like taking a chance on entering through the barracks. There was a coal chute near the kitchen that emptied into the basement. Garrett thought it was his best bet, but he wouldn’t have a chance of getting down the chute with a guard so close by. He crouched behind the vines as another roaming patrol passed by him and headed toward the barracks. The guard by the kitchen door acknowledged them with a wave of his hand and shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “Damn these new boots.” Garrett heard him mutter. A crash sounded in the kitchen, followed by angry shouts and the guard poked his head in through the door to see what was happening. Garrett didn’t even hesitate; he scurried across the grass into the shadows behind the guard. With his heart thumping in his chest, Garrett waited to hear if the barrack’s guard had seen him. But no alarms were sounded and Garrett relaxed and moved toward the coal chute. Garrett could see the shadow of the kitchen guard re-appear as he emerged from the kitchen but the rest of him was blocked by the corner of the building. The lock that hung from the doors of the coal chute was simple for Garrett to pick and as he removed the lock the doors swung outward with a rusted shriek. “What?” Was the sudden exclamation from the kitchen guard as he hurried to investigate the noise. Even in the dark the guard could see the doors hung open and his eyes went wide with surprise as he turned to run for help. Garrett was faster and he leapt onto the guard’s back, his blackjack striking swift and hard. The guard crumpled to the ground with Garrett perched on his back. Garrett took hold of the man below his shoulders and dragged him toward the open chute. He pushed the unconscious guard down the chute and followed right behind. They both came tumbling out onto a large pile of coal in the basement of the fort. Garrett pulled the guard into a dark corner behind some broken old furniture and made sure his body was tucked out of sight. Garrett ignored the stairs that led upward to the kitchen. Given the amount of noise that drifted down into the basement, it was clear the full complement of staff was busy in the kitchen, preparing food and wine for the guests. Instead he crept up the stairs to the large laundry room. It was empty and the only sound Garrett heard was the drip of a tap. Garrett consulted the rough map Tupper had provided him with and he planned a path to the first floor, passing through the staff dining hall and up the service stairs to the senior staff quarters. Garrett exited the laundry and began to inch down the brightly illuminated corridor toward the dining hall. In the hallway the music and din of conversation coming from the ballroom was much clearer but the bustle coming from the kitchen was still predominant. Garrett could hear a gaggle of serving maids hurrying down the hallway from the kitchen and he ducked into a door on his left. Garrett found himself in the lushest inner courtyard he had ever seen. The central feature was a large fountain, the water spouting upwards in a soothing motion and splashing down into a clear blue pond. The smell of earth and fresh greenery surrounded Garrett as he made his way through gentle ferns toward a large, concrete support column that was choked by moss and vines. Although the plants where everywhere and growing on everything, it did not have a feeling of being unkempt. The numerous stone benches were permitted to cultivate moss on their thick feet, but the seats were kept painstakingly clean. The lawn beneath his feet was thick and well trimmed and many of the shrubs had been pruned into intricate designs. The overall feel of it reminded him of someone he had known once. ‘Viktoria would have liked it here.’ He mused, surprising himself with such sentimental thoughts. Garrett watched with keen interest as several guards came storming in from the far side of the courtyard, dragging a dishevelled guest behind them. “Captain Dorleac!” The leader of the pack barked as he halted beside the fountain. “Let me go you scoundrels!” Demanded the guest as he struggled in the iron grip of his two detainers. “Captain?” The lieutenant ventured again, sounding less certain of himself this time. The rest of the troops scanned the courtyard in search of their commander. “I’m here Gratis.” An imposing figure emerged from the dark corner opposite Garrett. Though he was clearly quite young, the Captain carried himself confidently, as though he was born to lead. His tone of speaking was soft and calm, but held a great amount of power beneath it. He was dressed the same as the others with the exception of the golden epaulets on his uniform. “We’ve got a thief here, Sir.” The lieutenant inclined his head toward the guest and Dorleac slowly circled around the man. He motioned slightly with his hand and the guards that held the guest let him go. “It’s a vicious lie! I’m Ruben Bafford, don’t you know?” The guest argued as he began to preen and straighten his clothes. Garrett knew the man, youngest brother of the Bafford clan; he had serious gambling debts and no real title or estate to garner an income from. If he was accused of theft, Garrett could well believe it. Dorleac eventually stopped directly behind Ruben and the guest turned to face him though he shrank away from the tall Captain, fidgeting nervously with the hem of his coat. Dorleac eyed him silently as the other guards stood to attention. “I demand to speak to the Lady of the house!” Ruben eventually blurted out. Dorelac’s eyes flicked to look at a point over Ruben’s shoulder and Garrett followed his line of sight. “The Lady is here.” Dorleac announced calmly. A young noblewoman had appeared near the fountain, seemingly out of thin air for Garrett had not heard her approach. Garrett thought she had the look of a predator as her eyes locked on Ruben. She wore an evening gown that was simple, yet elegant, coloured the same sombre black as the Rois Dores uniforms and embroidered with the red and gold from the coat of arms, so that her colours matched those of her servants. At a glance, Garrett thought it was clear who this woman was going to side with in the current conflict. “Good!” Ruben crowed with triumph as he began to turn to where the Captain’s gaze rested. “Cassandra would you tell…” He stopped short and the look of victory fell from his face. “Where’s Cassandra?” Ruben asked desperately. A disarming smile spread across her features and the dangerous hunter was suddenly gone as she approached the group of men, moving with the kind of eerie grace that is the product of a lifetime of practiced poise. “The Lady is revelling with her guests, Sir. But if you have any complaints to make, I will hear them.” With ease her features took on an expression of sympathetic interest and Garrett marvelled at her ability to command others. He hadn’t thought it possible for the guards to stand any straighter but they had managed at her arrival. She was dwarfed by them, but they all looked upon her with clear expressions of respect and adoration. Garrett assumed she must be Charlotte; the one Tupper spoke of as wielding the real power in Highfort. “These ruffians accuse me of stealing!” Ruben whined piteously. The lady frowned kindly in response. “He was trying to hide these under his coat, Milady.” Lieutenant Gratis interjected and another guard held out a handful of silver cutlery. “How dare you!” Ruben blustered, but it was unclear if he was turning red from indignation or shame. Charlotte’s eyes briefly flicked from the cutlery to Ruben, assessing the truth of the situation in an instant. Before Ruben could react she had gracefully looped one of her arms through his and was steering him toward the courtyard exit. “Lord Ruben it was so good of you to join us this evening,” Her honeyed words filled the night air and the whole entourage followed her as though caught in a spell by her rich voice, “but I think it is time for you to go home and rest, this whole incident must have been very vexing for you.” She stopped to look Ruben directly in the eyes and patted his shoulder kindly. “It has been.” He muttered, unable to meet her gaze. “Who could dare to call me a thief? I want that man flogged!” He turned and pointed a trembling finger at Lieutenant Gratis who regarded him without fear. “I assure you, I will settle the matter, Milord. Thank you for coming.” Charlotte turned to one of the guards. “Brant, you will escort Lord Ruben to his carriage.” The guard jumped forward to stand beside Ruben who once again began to puff up in protest. Charlotte reassured him with another gentle pat on the arm. “This way Brant can tell everyone who you are and that you are leaving with my good graces.” She granted Ruben another of her winning smiles and the indignant drunk was at last mollified and happily allowed Brant to escort him from the estate. “Goodnight Uncle Ruben!” Charlotte called after them as they were leaving the courtyard. She heaved a great sigh of relief as soon as they were gone and turned back to the others. Her smile was replaced by a tired frown and furrowed brow. “You should have just let me beat him, Milady.” Lieutenant Gratis offered and a small smile twitched on Charlotte’s lips. “I’m sure he’s earned a dozen beatings Gratis, but the political ramifications would be a nuisance. You know better than to say such things.” She waggled her finger at him with mock scorn. “You’ve all been doing a wonderful job tonight.” Now she addressed them with open sincerity and gratitude. “I know my mother’s family and friends are all very trying but please bear with them just a few hours longer.” They replied fervently with “Yes, Milady!” Their faces beaming with pride from her compliments. She held out her hand and the stolen cutlery was passed to her. “Better go lock these away then.” Charlotte announced and Garrett watched with renewed interest as she pulled a set of keys from within the folds of her gown. “Make sure you all pass by the dining hall and get something to eat and drink when your shift finishes.” She was answered with more affirmatives as she strode from the courtyard. The troops all watched her leave, their expressions uniformly protective, except for Captain Dorleac who stared after her with a sad kind of longing. “She’s a good sort our Lady.” The Lieutenant beamed as he turned back to his men. “None better.” Garrett heard one of them reply as he hurried to follow Charlotte, eager to get his hands on her keys. He had to wait until Captain Dorleac’s lingering attention turned back to his subordinates and then Garrett slipped out the same door Charlotte had left through. He could hear her heels tapping over the wooden floor in the hallway and he tried to follow her at a discreet distance. She entered the room adjacent to the staff dining hall and Garrett peered through the keyhole to assess the situation. She was at the far end of the room with three servants and it seemed gloomy enough for Garrett to be able to slip inside. “… just like you suggested, Milady.” A grizzled old man was addressing her and Garrett could see rows of silverware laid out upon the tables in the room. A petite blonde servant was diligently polishing them, whilst a middle-aged man seemed to be making a tally of the items. “They’re too drunk to care what they’re drinking out of now.” “I couldn’t care less if they did notice we were giving them wine in bronze goblets. Here Ogden, these ought to make the tally complete.” She handed the old steward the stolen silver cutlery and he bowed his head reverently as he took the silverware with both hands. “Merrick, add these to your count.” Ogden addressed the other man as he laid the cutlery on the table with the rest. Merrick quickly counted all the pieces and nodded his head. “That’s the last of it, Milady.” He announced. “Excellent.” Charlotte walked around the tables making her own inspection of all the fine implements and Garrett silently climbed up some nearby cabinets and hauled himself into the rafters above them. “Let’s secure it all then.” Merrick picked up a polishing cloth to help the blonde finish cleaning everything as Charlotte and Ogden began stowing the polished items in the heavy display cabinets that filled the room. It appeared that this was a routine that Charlotte and her staff knew by heart and once they had filled one cabinet with its assigned items Charlotte would close the glass doors and lock them with her keys. The golden goblets glinted tantalisingly in the soft light but Garrett knew there was even greater plunder to be had in this estate. He waited patiently until the last treasure had been sealed under lock and key and watched Charlotte stow her keys out of sight within her gown. “Good job everyone; I’m going to retire now.” She beamed warmly at the three servants before her. “I leave the clean-up in your capable hands. Thank you for your patience this evening.” She placed a hand on Ogden’s arm and treated him with another grateful smile. “T’wernt nothing, Milady.” Ogden replied with a courteous nod of his balding head and he and Merrick walked through the second door that lead into the dining hall. “Shall I attend you, Milady?” The little serving girl queried. “No thankyou Hayley, I will be fine. They’ll need all the help they can get to clean up after these people.” “Yes, Milady.” Hayley bowed her head, as though she was disappointed to be dismissed to clean-up duty. Charlotte placed a gentle hand under her chin and lifted her head. “You can have the day off tomorrow as well; I will take you to the market if you like.” Hayley’s eyes widened with delight at the prospect of a trip into the city on her own free time and in the company of her mistress no less. “And if any of the guests harrass you, be sure you call the guards right away and get Captain Dorleac, alright?” Hayely nodded obediently. “Yes Milady, goodnight.” “Goodnight, Hayley.” Hayley grabbed her polishing utensils and exited into the dining hall, while Charlotte left via the door she had entered through. Garrett watched her leave and gently eased himself down from the rafters. He assumed that she would be making her way to her quarters on the first floor, and that she would use one of the main staircases, which would likely be in highly traversed areas right now, or heavily guarded. His surest route would still be the servant’s stairs in the next room. With the staff all still involved with serving and cleaning in the area of the ballroom he ought to find it unused. He pressed his ear to the door to the dining hall and heard quite a lot of chatter. Garrett pulled the door open slightly and peered into the spacious hall. It was stacked with rows of plain wooden tables and benches, enough space to seat over one hundred staff at a time. Kegs of ale had been placed in one corner and several of the benches were covered with the same assortment of food that was also being served to the guests. A group of guards occupied a group of tables, drinking and eating their fill now that they had been relieved of duty and the next shift had taken over. They were doing their best to make as much racket as possible which caused the servants to shake their heads good naturedly. With all attention focused on the boisterous guards, Garrett found it a simple thing to slip up the stairs to the first floor. He pressed himself down against the stairs as a guard passed him by on patrol through the hallway. As soon as it was clear Garrett scurried into the hall and moved south toward the master bedrooms. Tupper hadn’t been able to tell him which quarters belonged specifically to whom but it would be an easy matter to investigate. Garrett paused at a door that stood open and carefully peered around the corner. It was dark inside but he could hear numerous snores and could just make out the shape of bunks. He continued on past the barracks and the sleeping guards. It was worth knowing though, that if an alarm sounded, there would be more than a dozen extra guards ready to jump into action on this floor alone. There was a brightly illuminated intersection ahead and Garrett pulled a water arrow from his quiver. The arrow hit the wall with a satisfactory spray and the torch spluttered out. Garrett hurried to the safety of the darkness, retrieving the arrow to avoid its discovery and then inspected each of the passages that led from the intersection. The sound of music and the fountain splashing was very clear in the closest passage and he decided he didn’t want to head toward the courtyard balcony. Another passage ended in a dead end, the doors on either side opening only to numerous guest bedrooms. They were all unoccupied and there was nothing of great value to him inside. He returned to the intersection and heard footsteps echoing down the last passage. A guard appeared and stopped in the dark. “Where’s my flint?” He muttered to himself as he rummaged through the pockets in his uniform. The guard gave up his search with an exasperated sigh and hurried toward the nearest lit torch. He carefully eased it from the wall sconce and returned to light the snuffed torch with it. “Hmmm…” The guard mused as the torch refused to ignite and Garrett knew he’d realise it was too wet to light and that someone had put it out. Garrett was already right behind him when the guard comprehended the truth and gasped in surprise. The blackjack swiped through the air once again and Garrett stepped back as the body thudded to the floor. He pulled the guard down to the guest rooms and pushed him inside the closest one. “Hey!” Garrett’s head snapped around to see a guard standing at the intersection, holding the dropped second torch in his hand. The guard regarded Garrett with scrutiny, trying to make out if the figure in the shadows was a guest or not. Garrett’s hand had already grasped a gas grenade as he saw the alarm suddenly appear on the guard’s features. His eye’s widened and he turned to run toward the barracks. The gas grenade hit the ground just as the guard opened his mouth to draw in enough breath to shout for help and instead of air he hauled in the powerful gas. The guard slumped to the ground with a thud and Garrett rushed over to the body, his heart pumping furiously. Moving with all haste, he grabbed the now extinguished torch and slid it back into its proper place. He took the spent grenade and slipped it back into his pouch. He quickly surveyed the area as he dragged the guard toward the guest rooms. He dumped him hastily on top of the first guard and pulled the door shut. Garrett returned to the intersection, the adrenaline still coursing through his body and he strained to hear any sounds of warning. It seemed all clear and Garrett finally started down the last corridor, heading toward the front of the manor. His feet shuffled silently over the plush carpet and he reached another intersection. He inspected the corridor to his left and he could see four guards posted at the top of the grand staircase. More guest rooms to his right and he hid in the dark passage to those as he heard yet another guard approaching from the third corridor. Garrett pulled himself as flat against the wall as he could as the guard stopped and scrutinised the area around him. The guard called out to the staircase guards and they waved back in acknowledgement. The guard finally moved along but this time Garrett waited. He suspected he was starting to understand how these troops worked. Sure enough only a few minutes later another guard passed through the intersection. He followed the same motion as the first guard, inspecting the area, announcing his presence to the stair guards and moving along on his patrol. ‘Hmmm, that might be a problem.’ Garrett mused. How long did he have before those stairwell guards realised that two of their counterparts had not passed by for some time. And what would happen when these two guards reached the other intersection with the two dead torches? He would have to worry about that when it happened, but for now it would be best if he picked up the pace. “… Reggie got carried away, didn’t you dear? The little fellow up and died!” Garrett heard a woman speak merrily as he approached a set of high, arched doors. A gruff male voice responded as Garrett peeked around the corner into the lavish sitting room. “A good lesson for the rest of them. Take my advice Cassandra, beat your servants and children regularly.” An aged, rotund man addressed a blonde noblewoman who, despite her years, still appeared quite handsome. “I wish I could,” Cassandra bemoaned, “but Vincent won’t allow it, and now look at how wilful our daughter has become.” She paused to stuff a canapé in her mouth, before washing it down with a gulp of wine. “She gets it from her father of course.” The Lady of Rois-Dores hissed drunkenly. “Come here my lovelies!” Cassandra slurred with her shrill voice. Only now did Garrett realise that there were three other people in the room. They had been politely standing in a far corner until called for. Two strapping male youths and an unbelievably young girl, they seemed uncertain of themselves as they approached the older trio. The young girl stumbled as if she were light-headed and “Reggie” clutched at her with an iron grip, forcing her onto his lap as Cassandra plied the two boys with more wine. The other noblewoman giggled vacuously as she joined Cassandra and the two boys in front of the ornate fireplace. The fat old man fondled the trembling girl roughly as he watched his wife and hostess sporting with the two young men, a tangle of bodies on the rug. Garrett shuddered with revulsion at the excesses of nobility and easily slipped past without anyone noticing him. Garrett ignored all the passages leading off from the current one and continued south. At length he entered into a wide portrait gallery. Garrett regarded the raven-haired, fine-featured individuals that stared down at him from their perches on the walls. The family similarity was clear and Garrett assumed these were the portraits of all the Rois-Dores heirs, counting back innumerable generations. ‘No portraits of Cassandra.’ He mused without surprise. Clearly those who married into the dynasty weren’t considered eligible to have their image displayed alongside the true family. At the end of the hall he found a recent portrait of Charlotte, gazing enigmatically down at him. He paused to consider that her features weren’t what one would traditionally consider beautiful; her nose was too long and thin, her chin too pointed. The portrait beside hers was titled ‘Lord Vincent Anton Rois-Dores” and depicted a very severe and imperious man. Garrett shook his head with wonder that these people could truly believe their blood was better than anyone else. In his experience all people bled the same in the end. He entered a corridor that surely had to lead to the master bedrooms and he opened the first door he came to. It was comfortably decorated and had a definite masculine feel to it. He suspected that Vincent wouldn’t have just left his set of master keys lying idly around while he was absent from home. A thorough search of the room proved Garrett’s suspicions and he retreated back to the hall. He entered the room opposite and found such a garish and revolting display of decorative excess he knew immediately it must be Cassandra’s room and passed it by. There would be nothing of use to him there. He continued down the corridor to the next door and cracked it open. Moonlight streamed in through gauzy drapes highlighting the interior of the room with a soft blue glow. Charlotte slept peacefully in a large canopy bed and Garrett gently closed the door behind him. He crossed the room immediately to where her evening dress was hastily draped over a chair. He rummaged through the heavy folds, the soft rustle of fabric filling the room, but he found no keys. He turned to her draws next, pulling each open painstakingly slow before sifting through the contents within. This also turned out to be fruitless and Garrett wondered where she would have hidden her keys. It occurred to him that she might be the kind of person that hid valuables under her pillow and he started to slink toward the sleeping noblewoman. Someone pounded demandingly on the bedroom door and Garrett scuttled to a dark corner near the unlit fireplace. The banging was repeated more urgently and Charlotte roused from her slumber. She swung her feet from the bed and slid them into a pair of slippers, loosely binding her ebony tresses. She threw on a delicate white robe that matched her nightclothes as she shuffled toward the door. Orange torchlight spilled in through the doorway as she opened it wide to regard her summoner. “Jan?” She queried as she stifled a yawn. “Sorry to disturb you, Milady.” Captain Dorleac nodded curtly. “Gordon has gone missing.” This news seemed to have the effect of a cold shower on Charlotte as she shook of the last vestiges of slumber and became fully alert. “Where was he posted?” She asked. “At the kitchen, but one of our mobile teams reported that he wasn’t at his post. We searched the immediate area and found the coal chute was open. I’ve got men searching the basement and armoury at the moment.” The Captain instinctively rest his hand on the sword strapped to his side, it was clear he anticipated trouble. “Good, don’t raise the alarm. If there is an intruder they’ll be easier to find if they believe we don’t know they’re here.” Charlotte crossed her arms and held her chin in one hand, pondering this event. “Keep me updated.” She said finally as she dismissed him. The Captain nodded again and disappeared. Charlotte seemed lost in thought as she closed the door and leant against it for a moment. She peeled off her robe and tossed it on the bed, kicking off her slippers. She collapsed back onto the soft mattress and gazed up at the ceiling, lost in thought. Garrett waited to see if she would drift back to sleep and eventually she rolled over onto her side and seemed to be settling down. He returned his attention to the matter of finding her keys, his eyes roaming over the room in search for a sign of a secret compartment. In the corner of his eye he saw a white blur move and then there was a piercing pain in his leg. Just as he registered that he had a dagger sticking into his thigh, Charlotte bowled him over onto the floor, twisting his arm back to the point of breaking. “Don’t move sneak.” She commanded, her hot breath tickling his ear. She pulled back a touch to inspect him in the moonlight. Unexpectedly she released her grip on his arm and rolled off his back, pulling the dagger out of his leg as she went. Garrett grunted at the pain and pushed himself up from the floor, needing to lean against the wall for balance as he tried to stand on his wounded leg. “You’re stronger than you look.” Garret admitted candidly as he reassessed the angry young woman before him. “This is a poisoned dagger.” She replied matter-of-factly, brandishing the dagger with an expert hand. Garrett studied her face, trying to garner if what she said was the truth. “I have the antidote.” She continued, ignoring his cynical expression. “If you co-operate with me I will give it to you once you have left Highfort.” Now Garrett did snort with disbelief. What kind of game was this girl trying to play? “My men have a reputation for being the best and if word got out that someone managed to even enter these grounds, we’d have a non-stop stream of thieves trying to duplicate the feat! I can’t allow that to happen.” Charlotte spoke earnestly but to Garrett it seemed like something didn’t quite add-up. “Very well, Milady.” He replied and despite his mocking tone she relaxed visibly. Sensing his opportunity, Garrett lunged for her, wrenching the dagger from her hand while catching her other wrist in a vicelike grip. She hissed through her teeth as he slashed the palm of her hand with the dagger. He released her and she stumbled back a step, still surprised by his action. “Now you need the antidote too.” Garrett said calmly, thinking that he had called her bluff. She stared at him as his words sank in and finally laughed in his face. Garrett scowled, not understanding her reaction. “It’s a slow poison; it will take at least three hours to work through your body. You have about an hour or so before your legs will give out on you, the nerves slowly paralysing. If you don’t die from embarrassment when you lose control of your bladder, then the poison will eventually reach your lungs and your heart. And then you will die.” She grinned at him triumphantly. “I think I can afford to wait a few hours thief, but I doubt you want to get trapped in Highfort without the use of your legs.” What annoyed Garrett was that she was completely right. What a cunning little bitch, no wonder her men admired her. They both jumped when someone knocked on the door. Charlotte kicked at the wound on Garrett’s leg and he fell to the floor, clutching at his thigh and wincing in pain. “If you value your life, then make not a sound.” She whispered harshly as she grabbed the dagger from him and stashed it in a draw before she opened the door. “We found Gordon in the basement.” Dorleac announced grimly as soon as he saw her. “I’ve stationed extra men at all exits from the fort and grounds and we are systematically moving through the manor to search every square inch.” “Be sure you do it discreetly, I don’t want any of the guests to know we have an intruder. Send Ogden to the front gate and have him verify the identity of every person that leaves.” Charlotte grasped the open door with one hand while placing her cut hand behind her, trying to appear casual. “Miller has also gone missing and so has Gilbert.” He watched her expectantly. “They were both on the first floor.” Charlotte didn’t seem to react to the news but Garrett could see her right hand clenching nervously behind her back. “I’m going to send someone to guard your door.” “No.” Charlotte immediately insisted. “They would all be better spent searching. I will lock my door.” Dorleac did not seem convinced of this plan. “I’ll be fine.” She reassured him with a smile. “I would gladly stay here and guard your door.” Dorleac pledged suddenly, stepping closer to Charlotte. Garrett quirked an eyebrow and watched with renewed interest. “I know.” Charlotte replied gently. “But you must attend to your duties first, we both must.” She spoke with such resentment Garrett suspected this was old territory for them both. Dorleac gathered her into his arms, stooping to kiss her tenderly. Charlotte seemed to melt into his embrace but Garrett noticed that the knuckles on her cut hand had turned white with tension. ‘Well, well.’ Garrett smirked. ‘Now all the pieces fall into place.’ She wasn’t protecting the reputation of her men, she was protecting her Captain. He would go along with whatever she had planned because even if he failed tonight, he still knew how to break into Highfort with ease. He would be back. Dorleac reluctantly released his Lady before he turned about and strode back to command his men. Charlotte closed the door once again and turned the key in the lock. She didn’t dare to glance at Garrett as she hurried to her wardrobe and pulled out a pile of cloth, tearing a length off to dab away the blood on her hand and then another to fasten around it. She threw the bundle toward Garrett. “Bind your wound.” She commanded. Garrett did so as he watched her pull her slippers back on and this time wrap a dark coloured robe around her frame. She looked like a slim black shadow as she stalked around her room preparing for whatever she had in mind, her pale features seeming all the more striking in contrast. Garrett hauled himself back to his feet and tested his weight on his leg. There was a deep throbbing pain in his leg but he could walk on it. Charlotte swept past him to the fireplace, reaching up inside and pulling down the bundle of master keys. Her eyes twinkled with glee as she registered Garrett’s sour face. She motioned for him to follow her to the door. “Be silent and do try to keep up, sneak.” She suggested wryly as she unlocked the door. Charlotte cracked the door open and peered out into the corridor. Garrett craned his neck to see around her and saw that the coast was clear. They both slipped out of the room and Charlotte locked the door behind them. “What if your lover comes by again?” Garrett revelled in the discomfort his question caused her. “We’ll just have to be quick.” She snapped back, clearly unhappy that this intruder had seen so deeply into her private life. They entered the gallery of portraits and saw guards searching with torches down the end of the hall. Charlotte scurried toward one of the portraits and reached behind it, releasing a catch to let the portrait swing outward. She looked around quickly to be sure no guards approached as she inserted one of her keys into the heavy, wooden door that was built into the wall. Despite its age it opened smoothly and without protest. Garrett thought it seemed frequently used. Charlotte stood aside and waved him in. He stepped up through the doorway and shuffled forward carefully, not sure of his footing in the dark cavity. Charlotte stepped up behind him, pulling the portrait closed as she went, securing it before she shut the door, the lock automatically falling into place. She took the lead, walking confidently through the darkness, guiding Garrett by pulling on his shirt. “There’s stairs here.” She warned him but his eyes had adjusted well enough that he could make them out himself. They reached the bottom of the winding stairs and approached another door. Now Garrett could see well enough in the gloom to notice that the secret corridor spread out in two directions, with more doors further down no doubt. Charlotte had the door unlocked and was tentatively peeking out through the gap between the wall and a rich tapestry. She pushed the tapestry aside and Garrett followed her into an extensive library. “We’ve been building this library for centuries.” She told him, but he remained unimpressed. Books reminded him of Keepers and Keepers were nothing but trouble to Garrett. They moved cautiously, passing from bookshelf to bookshelf, but it seemed the vast library was quite empty. “Glad to see your elite guard are doing their job.” He whispered in her ear. “Trust me Garrett, if you tried to leave Highfort through any door, window or coal chute right now, you’d be hacked into little pieces.” From her tone it seemed that if this fate befell Garrett she wouldn’t be terribly upset. This again raised the question of why she was so keen to help him. “They’re systematically sweeping through the building, if I hadn’t shown you a hidden way, you would have been caught.” “I would have found it.” He replied indignantly, hiding passages and safes behind paintings was so common; it was the first place even an amateur thief would look. “Perhaps I have a secret way of my own.” Garrett didn’t know why he told her, but he regretted it immediately. Why should he care whether she thought he was a brilliant thief? “Oh no, the garden will be crawling with men, you’d never reach the well.” Garrett stopped in his tracks and she smiled at him condescendingly. “Your shirt is quite damp.” She commented with an air of haughtiness. Garrett pressed his lips firmly together; he wouldn’t let anything else slip out to give her the advantage tonight. Charlotte walked backwards, beckoning Garrett to follow her toward a large sculpture of the Rois-Dores crest. Garrett’s eyes roamed over the gilded lion with its imperious crown to the crimson hawk, a sword gripped in its talons. “The Golden Tyrants.” He scoffed sarcastically and smiled when he saw Charlotte bristle. “The Golden Kings.” She corrected with an affected sigh, trying to act as though his attempts to provoke her had failed. “Not everyone with a title is evil Garrett.” Garrett was not interested in arguing about the evils of nobility with her so remained silent. Charlotte had stepped closer to the lion and Garrett watched eagerly as she fished a small seal out from under her clothes. It hung from a chain around her neck and she leant down to press the shaped end of it into a groove in the lion’s crown. There was a soft click and then the sound of grinding stone as the crest began to draw backward into the wall. “After you Garrett.” Charlotte grabbed a torch from a nearby sconce and waved it toward the gloomy passage that had been revealed. Garrett stepped inside and Charlotte followed close behind. She stopped to pull a chain inside the passage and the crest returned to its original position, locking them inside. Charlotte once again took the lead as they followed the long tunnel on a steady downward spiral. Charlotte pulled out her bundle of keys as they reached an ancient iron door. She unlocked it and glanced over her shoulder at Garrett as she dropped her keys into her robe pocket. Garrett was not insulted by this lack of trust; he’d think less of her if she wasn’t concerned about him stealing her keys. Charlotte put her whole body into pushing open the heavy door and it screeched as it slowly swung open. Garrett followed her through and she did not bother to close it again. They were in a large, dark chamber and Garrett could just barely make out more iron doors and corridors branching out into the darkness. “They’re mostly tombs.” Charlotte remarked as she noted his interest in the vaults. He doubted that they’d go to so much effort just to hide the family ancestors. ‘Must be the legendary vaults of wealth I’ve heard so much about.’ Garrett mused, already thinking about how to get back into this place after tonight. Charlotte led him through the large chamber, the darkness pressing in on them, beaten off only by the flickering light of the torch. They came to another iron door and again Charlotte passed the torch to Garrett as she unlocked it and this time pulled the door backwards. Garrett stepped forward to lend a hand, but Charlotte finally managed to get it moving with an even greater shriek of rusted metal. Behind the door was a portcullis. Charlotte took the torch from Garrett and searched the wall beside them for the mechanism to open the gate. She pulled the lever that was set into the stone wall and the portcullis slowly opened. He followed her through the gate and she used the torch to light another one that hung on the wall. She pulled the second torch from it’s sconce and handed it to Garrett. “If you follow this tunnel to the end you will reach the canals in Stonemarket. At the end is another portcullis. There will be a switch like this one to open it.” She motioned back into the chamber at the lever she had pressed. “The portcullis only opens from one side Garrett, so don’t even think of trying to ever come back this way.” It was almost as if she could read Garrett’s mind, for that is exactly what he had been thinking. “By the time you reach Stonemarket I will have arranged to have someone meet you with the antidote. Where would you like to meet them?” “The Trickster’s Tavern.” Garret didn’t even know why he said it, but it was the first thing in the Old Quarter to spring to mind. Charlotte gave him a side-long glance and he wondered what had caused this sudden scrutiny. “Very well.” She replied hesitantly. “Goodbye Garrett.” “Goodnight, Milady.” He mocked her with a curt bow, grinning at her displeasure as he turned into the long corridor. He did not turn as he heard the portcullis clamp down behind him, or the iron door slowly scream closed. He watched his feet kicking up swirls of dust as he trudged through the gloom. He came to a sudden halt as something odd occurred to him. “How did she know my name?” Garrett pondered. He supposed that she might have heard of him, no doubt he had robbed many of her acquaintances. Perhaps she had just made a lucky guess to his identity. “Who else would be so daring as to sneak onto her estate?” Garrett chuckled as he let his ego run wild for a moment. “Hope there aren’t any burricks living in here somewhere.” He thought grimly as he continued on his way. Eventually the torch began to sputter and Garrett felt fresh air gently brushing against his face. Not long after he heard the sound of running water, he was approaching the canals. He came to the second portcullis and pulled the lever to open it. He swept the torch toward the stone floor to inspect a set of muddy footprints that were entering the passage from the canal and heading toward the Highfort vaults. ‘She lied.’ Garret realised with glee. ‘That means I can come back, but where is the lever?’ He scanned the wall in the canal but could not find any hint of a lever. He doubted it would be in plain view, but there were no signs of a hidden one. Still he could come back and do a more thorough search when he was ready to return to Highfort. He found the nearest access ladder and started to climb it. Garrett’s legs gave way when he was almost at the top and he scrambled to hold on with his arms. “I guess she wasn’t bluffing about the poison.” He held firmly to the ladder with his arms as he tested the strength in his legs. They felt a bit rubbery but he managed to climb to the top. It was difficult moving the metal hatch, trying to push it with one arm while grasping the ladder with the other and having no support from his legs. With much sweating and strain he finally managed to poke his head out at street level. Garrett looked around cautiously to be sure there were no City Watch patrols in the area. It seemed clear so he scrambled out of the canal, not bothering to slide the metal cover back into place. He stumbled to a dark doorway, leaning back against the cold alcove wall to catch his breath. The wound in his leg throbbed, but what really rattled him was the feeling that his legs could crumple at any moment. Tentatively he took a step back onto the paved street. It was only a block to the tavern; he’d just have to make it there, no matter how weak his legs felt. Garrett just hoped Charlotte would hold up her end of the bargain and actually send someone with the antidote. Garrett was close enough to hear the buzz of conversation emanating from the tavern when his legs went out from under his again. He collapsed in the street and felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He fought the urge to bring up the contents of his stomach and pushed himself back to his feet. ‘She’s not going to send anyone.’ Garrett was certain of it. What reason could she possibly have to actually send the antidote? If all she wanted was to protect her men then surely a dead thief was better than a live one that, though he had no loot as proof, could still boast that he had beaten the elite guard. Sometimes the word alone was enough. His corpse wouldn’t be anywhere near Highfort, even his death couldn’t mar their reputation. Only now that he was clear of Highfort, that he was away from Charlotte and her persuasive manner was he able to think clearly. ‘Garrett you’ve been had.’ He couldn’t believe that some rich young girl had managed to trick him so easily. ‘I suppose it seemed like a good idea at the time.’ Now he truly understood why she was adored by her staff. She’d played him like a fool, risked her own safety, to protect the reputation of her people. He might not like it, but he had to respect it. ‘Not everyone with a title is evil?’ He thought back to her words earlier. ‘You're pure evil Milady and I’d love it, if you hadn’t killed me.’ Even though he was certain he was doomed Garrett pressed on. ‘I’ve got nothing left to lose now.’ He decided, so it was worth taking the slim chance that she just might send the antidote. If no-one came to the Tavern with the antidote, at least he’d be able to drink himself unconscious. With the last of his strength he stumbled into the Trickster’s Tavern, looking no more drunk than any other patron as he swayed in the doorway. The hairs on his neck prickled immediately with alarm, he was certain that everyone in the place was casting furtive glances in his direction and the chatter had died down noticeably. “That’s him.” There was no mistaking Brock’s guttural voice and Garrett was beset on all sides by members of the City Watch. Garrett didn’t even bother wasting a flash bomb on them in a futile attempt to escape; his legs couldn’t take him anywhere. The Watch Dogs approached him cautiously, many with their weapons drawn, they’d been exposed to his numerous tricks before. “Get him!” The Captain of the Watch shouted and as one they pounced on him, pulling him to the ground and trussing him up. Garrett fought them with what strength he had in his arms, he couldn’t go completely without a fight. But it was a short battle against men with twice the bodyweight as him. “I warned you Garrett. Brock’s turf!” Garrett could hear Brock the oaf, already crowing with triumph because he believed he had secured the capture of Garrett. ‘I was a dead man anyway you fool.’ It incensed Garrett that Brock would from this day on be able boast of how he had defeated the unmatchable thief. Only one person could truly be held responsible for Garrett’s capture and demise, Charlotte Rois-Dores. The most depressing thing for Garrett was that no-one would ever know it was so. Garrett took some small comfort in knowing that once he was dead and gone, the Watch would come back for Brock. The fool had voluntarily exposed himself to the Watch and when arrests got scarce, the Dogs tended to even turn on their informants. “We’ve got you at last you taffer!” The Dogs had hauled him back to his feet and the Captain smashed his gauntleted fist into Garrett’s face, the blow knocking him backwards through the Tavern doorway and into the street. Garrett lay on the cobblestones, seeing more stars than those in the night sky. ‘Curse you Charlotte.’ Garrett thought miserably as they dragged him down the streets, calling out their triumph as they led him toward Pavelock Prison. People clamoured from their homes to watch the passing of Garrett the notorious thief, twice the unsung saviour of the City and its denizens. ‘I deserved a better ending than this.’ |
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