The White Road - Lynn Flewelling [135]
Gripping the drainpipe in both hands, he gave it a shake. It held solid and felt sturdy enough. He took several small picks and a wooden shim from his tool roll and stuck them in the corner of his mouth.
The wooden pipe held. Holding tight to it with one hand, he leaned over as far as he could and slipped the shim between the two leaded glass panels of the window, then slowly moved it up and down until he found the latch and unhooked it.
Swinging the far panel open, he stretched over and got his footing on the bottom of the deep casement. He crouched there for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the deeper darkness of the room. Gradually he could make out enough to know that this was a sitting room or ladies' day room. He lowered himself to the floor, which was partially covered by a round rug.
This is as good a place to start as any, he thought, although it was unlikely that Ulan would leave the book lying around in plain sight.
There were a few books on a side table near the hearth, but they were much smaller than the one Alec had described. Chancing the lightstone, he quickly paged through them anyway, but they were common romances, nothing more. He crossed to the door and inched it open. Beyond it lay a short hallway. Two small night lamps in sconces lit it well enough to see several doors on each side of the corridor and where it took a turn at the far end. A pair of expensive shoes sat next to one of the doors near the corner, set out for some servant to clean. Just as he was about to head down the hall to begin his search, he heard footsteps from the far end. A man wearing a Viresse sen'gai and a short sword at his hip came around the corner and started in Seregil's direction.
Seregil quickly dropped the lightstone down the neck of his shirt and waited, weighing his options and keeping watch through the crack of the door. He could knife the man as he passed, but once again the thought of spilling 'faie blood kept his hand from his knife. No, he'd much rather knock him out or choke him unconscious and leave him here alive.
But the man seemed satisfied with his search halfway down the corridor. Turning back, he disappeared the way he'd come.
Seregil waited until he was certain he was gone, then inched the door open and listened. Yes, there were more men beyond that corner.
He crept silently down the hallway and chanced a quick peek around the corner. A short stairway led down to an open door, and from here he could make out enough of the murmured conversation to know that they were expecting a burglary.
But why are they down there? Why only one man making a cursory search up here?
Because it's a trap, of course.
Keeping a sharp ear out, he quickly began his search, inching each door open a little and listening intently for breathing before chancing the lightstone. The first two were unoccupied bedchambers; there was no sign of books of any size. He even lifted the rugs and felt under the beds for some secret hiding place under the floorboards, but there was nothing to be found.
Moving on, he opened the door across from the occupied bedchamber, well aware, as he slipped inside, that any sound he made here was likely to be heard.
This room overlooked the garden. The torches below cast enough light for him to see that it was a library, with a few half-filled bookcases against the walls, several armchairs, and a long table with unlit lamps on either end and several orderly stacks of books between them. Large books.
Too easy, he thought again, expecting any moment for armed guards to burst in. Going to the window, he unlatched it and peered down. Fancy carved stonework looked like it offered enough purchase to climb down low enough to jump if he had to. With that settled, he turned his attention to the books.
Ilar bit his knuckle to keep silent as he left the low divan and cautiously peered out between the heavy velvet curtains. It was Seregil. It must be. Certainty came when the shadowy figure drew a lightstone on a stick and held it between his teeth as he looked around the room.