The Alabaster Staff - Edward Bolme [54]
She owed it all to Massedar, and in her heart, she thanked him for it. It wasn't just that she felt appreciated for a change. True, he'd spoken courteously, looked her in the eyes, indulged her, even promised her payment for services rendered-far more mercy than a thief could expect in Messemprar-but more so, he had set her upon a path of justice, with stakes far higher than the wedges and coppers and egorae she'd performed for.
Most of all Massedar had power and he had extended the aura of his power to her, his chosen agent. He had given a street waif like her a portion of his great stature. She'd never experienced anything like it.
She tried to think of the task ahead, but his piercing sky-blue eyes held her mind's gaze until she saw the unimaginatively named Chariot Memorial looming ahead of her.
The crowds were thick and noisy around the memorial, which suited Kehrsyn fine until she saw the source of the commotion. Some Zhent merchants had set themselves up at the foot of the great statue and were hawking advanced purchases of their forthcoming food shipment. The activity had generated quite a crowd, and Zhent guards and the city watch alike had posted themselves throughout the crowd.
Kehrsyn slid along the edge of the crowd, confident in her anonymity but nonetheless preferring to keep a safe distance.
After a few more tenbreaths' search, she found the building Eileph had inadvertently mentioned. Number sixteen Wheelwright was a two-story building wedged between two convergent streets that intersected some thirty yards away from the plaza of the Chariot Memorial. The building was shaped like a narrow wedge of flatbread, which, Kehrsyn mused, must have made life interesting for the architect.
It was on the verge of becoming dilapidated. The windows on the ground floor had all been securely, if inexpertly, boarded over. Heavy curtains filled the windows on the upper floor. The vertex of the narrow building was blunt, and into the end the main door had been set. In the years since the building had been created, however, it had sunk (or else extra dirt had raised the level of the plaza and surrounding streets), for the outward-opening front door was inoperable and had been boarded over as well. Instead, a ladder of questionable integrity led to a makeshift door roughly cut into the second floor. A sign dangled from one rung, proclaiming "NO ROOM."
Kehrsyn stuck out her lower lip appreciatively. The building looked poor and uncomfortable, declined the interest of the casual passerby, and yet was eminently defensible. In all likelihood, there'd be a hatch to the rear of the roof or a tunnel dug beneath the streets for a quick exit. Maybe both. It looked like a good setup.
Kehrsyn decided that the best tactic would be a straightforward, confident approach. It had worked through the city streets, and it just might work there. Kehrsyn ran her right hand up and down along the edge of her burn. Certainly her experience with the sorceress showed that timidity was asking for trouble.
Without further ado, lest her courage give out, Kehrsyn vaulted up the ladder, keeping a solid grip on the handrails in case one of the rungs should give. She used her dagger to depress the latch of the door and push it open, standing slightly to one side in case the occupants had a crossbow aimed at the entry. She raised her eyebrows in surprise, for whatever her images of a thieves' guild had been, the interior of the building failed to live up to them.
The only light in the room spilled in from the door, the curtained windows, and two other doors that stood slightly ajar on the far side of the vestibule. A variety of packs, large satchels, bags, and water skins hung on pegs along one wall, alongside the cloaks that Kehrsyn had expected to see. The other wall held an assortment of camping gear, ranging from clean frying pans to coils of rope to oiled-canvas rain tarps. At her feet, an old hunting dog lay on a ragged blanket. He opened his