The courtyard was quiet, dark, and deserted. In the whole of the duke’s grand nest, only two windows were lit up: one in the kitchen and one under the roof. The grass that was shrinking from the chill of the June night completely muffled my steps. It was too cold for the crickets, and the heavy hand of silence hung over the inner yard.
There was the door into the kitchen. The timid, trembling flame of a torch was blackening the wall beside the door. I turned the bronze handle, and I was inside.
The stoves and fireplaces in the kitchen were long since cold. The tables were stacked with dirty dishes and there was a young scullion sleeping on the floor. I stopped in a corner and began checking everything against the plan that I was carrying in the most reliable place of all—my head. That door over there will take me into a dining hall with a high marble staircase leading to the second floor. But I don’t need to risk the hall, there’s another way round. The oak door on the right leads into the servants’ wing, and from there I can get to the second floor, avoiding the guard. Of course the hour is late and the guardsmen, if I know anything about their kind, have been asleep for a long time, but even so, there’s no point in asking for trouble.
I set off, treading carefully (the dry floorboards creaked under my feet). In the dark corridor only every second torch was lit. From behind a door on the left I heard the snoring of someone in good health and clearly well satisfied with life. That was definitely a guard—no one else could be so recklessly carefree.
Chuckling to myself, I moved on.
Forward! And quietly! The most important thing is not to hurry.
I walked to the staircase leading from the servants’ wing to the ducal apartments. Climbing the steps took no time at all, and there in front of me were the heavy double doors of oak. Locked, of course, but we can deal with that.
The corridor was as gloomy and deserted as the rest of the building. But I could see that from that point on the floor was cunningly paved with slabs of Isilian marble, which makes footsteps sound unnaturally loud and clear. A deaf man at the other side of the city could hear them. And I had to walk the full length of the corridor to the bedchamber at the far end.
Curses! If only I could fly!
But I can’t. And so I shall have to use every ounce of the skill that Sagot has granted me in order not to make any noise.
Suddenly I heard a menacing growl behind me. I shuddered and froze, with my foot suspended above the black-and-white marble slabs. I turned my head gingerly, and there was a garrinch, devouring me with the insane glare of its white eyes.
A shudder ran right through me. That swindler Gozmo—when he gave me the Commission there wasn’t a word about the duke having one of these brutes in the house.
Garrinches live far away in the south, in the Steppes of Ungava, almost on the borders of the hot Sultanate. The creatures are magnificent watchdogs, especially useful against lads like me. Getting hold of a live garrinch cub is incredibly difficult, almost impossible, because the price is simply sky-high. They say the king’s treasure house is guarded by two of the beasts.
What a garrinch resembles most of all is a huge rat, the size of a well-fattened calf, covered with snake’s scales instead of fur, with a magnificent set of teeth that can saw straight through a knight in armor, and two white gimlets for eyes. Killing one is extremely difficult—unless, of course, you happen to be a magician.
The creature snorted and stared alertly, probing the shadow where I had thought it best to hide. There was nothing I could do but pray to Sagot to protect his humble servant. I was drenched in cold sweat. After thinking for about a minute, it began growling again. It sensed a trick, but it couldn’t understand where I could have gone, so it was trying to flush me out.
Eventually the beast abandoned its thoughts of an easy supper and set off at a slow, pigeon-toed waddle toward the open door leading into the servants’ wing. I realized that one reason the door was usually locked was so that the brute that was let out to guard the second floor wouldn’t eat anyone. But I had nonchalantly left the door wide open. What fun and games there would be in the morning when someone discovered a couple of servants were missing!
I caught my breath and took my finger off the trigger of the crossbow. The danger had passed. But I had to be on the alert; the creature could come back at any time.
There was a narrow strip of light showing under the door of the duke’s bedchamber. Strange. Could there possibly be someone inside?
I set my ear to the keyhole.
“Nonsense! I am loyal to the Master!” a harsh, shrill voice exclaimed.
The duke? Why in the name of darkness was he at home and not out hunting?
“Loyal?” The second voice sent cold shivers down my spine—it was pure malice, without a single drop of life in it: a blend of baleful mockery and the chill of the grave. “Strange. If that is so, then why has the king still not abandoned his foolish plans for the Horn?”
“That’s all because of his accursed guard and Alistan Markauz. The king is watched round the clock. The captain suspects something. I’m not able to speak to His Majesty in private.”
“My Master is not accustomed to his orders not being carried out.”
“And I am not accustomed to not getting what I was promised long ago!” The man’s voice broke into a shout. “You’re all despicable, lying scum! I want nothing more to do with you.”
“Very well. Now you will receive your payment,” the dead voice said after pausing for a moment, as if its owner were listening carefully to some new instruction.
“Wait, wait, I was jok—Aaaagh!”
There was a repulsive squelching sound on the other side of the door, then something fell and the shutters slammed against the wall as they were thrown open.
I swore under my breath and peeked warily into the duke’s bedchamber.
