The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [128]
Lowering himself onto the roof tiles, he climbed up to the ridge to scan the courtyard. There was no one there that he could see but a sleeping watchman.
He crawled back to the skylight. The shutter was six feet high and about half that across. Fortunately it was lifted by means of a pair of pulleys mounted on a post on the hinge side. The thick rope that operated it passed through an opening in the roof, and there was enough space around the rope for Seregil to see that no light was coming up from below.
He went back to the wall and hissed softly for Alec, who climbed nimbly up. Seregil signaled silently and together they hauled on the shutter rope. It opened smoothly on well-oiled hinges. The workshop below was pitch-dark, so he took a lightstone from his tool roll and dropped it in. It bounced off something and rolled under something else, but they could still see the glow of it. As far as they could tell, the place was deserted.
Alec pulled up their rope and reset the grapple so they could climb down into the shop. Seregil slid down first and retrieved the stone. Going to the cellar door, he opened it enough to see that there was no light there, either.
Alec came down and took out a light of his own. "Look," Seregil whispered.
There were footprints in the dust around the bookcases and a chair beside a lamp stand. A few others showed that people had walked around the room and gone to the small tent at the far end. It was painted with rings of what were most likely alchemical symbols of some sort. The dust was disturbed in front of it, showing where someone had knelt down, presumably to investigate its contents.
Curious, Seregil went to the tent and pulled back the flap while Alec began searching the bookcases. In addition to a few leather bags and a gold chalice, there was a locked casket that looked large enough to hold a book like the one Alec had described.
The lock was a large one. These were often the most dangerous, being large enough to hide a nasty surprise, like a poison needle on a spring. After a close inspection, however, Seregil slid a pair of slender picks from his roll and went to work. A moment later he heard the click of several tumblers. He grinned as he raised the heavy lid, but the casket was empty.
"I don't see it in the bookcase," Alec whispered, joining him. "It's not on any of the tables, either."
Seregil showed him the empty box. "Would it have fit in here?"
"Yes."
"Damn!"
They spent some time searching the room, but it was no use. Nothing like the book Alec recalled was to be found.
"Bilairy's Balls," Seregil hissed.
"Maybe some other alchemist took it." Alec looked around. "Then again, everything else is just as I remember it. Nothing appears to have been moved."
"Except books." Seregil went back to the cluster of footprints in front of the bookcases. There were no empty spaces between the volumes. "Whoever it was knew what they were looking for, to the exclusion of all else. They paid no attention to anything else here, except books and that tent. You're certain the book you saw would fit in that casket?"
"Yes." Alec stared around into the shadows. "Wait. What about the cellar? And that locked room they kept me in down there?"
But once again, there was nothing like a book anywhere; everything was just as Alec remembered.
"Ulan?" whispered Alec.
"We'll see. Come on."
Seregil went up the rope first. As his head cleared the roof, however, he heard an outcry in the distance. It was coming from the direction of the gully. From what he could make out, someone had found their horses and raised an alarm.
"There, in the workshop!"
Seregil looked around to find a man balanced on a ladder placed against the garden wall to his left. He must have gone up to see what the fuss was about.
"Guards! The workshop," the man shouted, disappearing down the ladder. "Fetch the key, someone!"
Seregil quickly