'Copper…' she panted, 'copper for a message, sir?'
'Message for whom?' the guard asked, getting back to his feet
'Anyone, sir,' Kehrsyn panted, 'but time is passing.'
The two guards looked at each other.
'I'll get Ahegi,' said one, and the other nodded.
Kehrsyn paced around the room, trying to regain her breath. At one end she staggered slightly, putting out one hand to steady herself and deftly unlatching the simple clasp that held the shutters closed. Hands on hips, she then moved across to the other corner of the room, cast open the shutters very deliberately, leaned out, and took a few deep breaths of the cold outside air.
'Close that up!' the guard grumbled. 'It's cold enough already sitting in here. We don't need snow on top of it.'
'Sorry,' mumbled Kehrsyn, still breathing deeply.
She closed the shutters and pretended to latch them back shut. She heard footsteps returning to the entry hall, so she walked back over to the guards' table and pulled her hair out of her face.
The second guard escorted a tall, powerful, harsh-looking man. Though he was strongly built, his physique had suffered badly for age and privilege. His head was shaved, and two concentric blue circles adorned his forehead, a traditional Untheric mannerism that signified that he was an educated nobleman versed in magic. The presence of a third ring would indicate that the wearer was a priest, but since the death of Gilgeam, the third ring was almost never seen. Gilgeamite priests had abandoned its use to avoid vengeance, and priests of other religions thought it prudent to follow the example.
The second guard pointed brusquely to Kehrsyn and said, 'That is she, Lord Ahegi.'
The nobleman approached. Seeing his face, Kehrsyn had a flash of nausea, so she dropped her eyes to protect her expression from betraying her discomfort.
'You wished to see me?' he asked in a thin voice that sounded like it had been scoured by the sands for a hundred years.
'I wished to see someone, sir,' she said. 'Copper for a message?'
'The message first,' Ahegi said.
'Sir, a new ship is just about to dock, sir. They're piloting it in with longboats and lanterns. They say there might be food, sir, and who knows what all else. Thought you might like to know, maybe greet it at the dock.'
Ahegi pushed out his lower lip, nodded, pulled out a copper, and tossed it to Kehrsyn.
'Thank you, sir,' she said and turned to leave.
'Wait,' said Ahegi, and Kehrsyn was surprised at the commanding power his reedy voice had. She froze in her tracks, her back crawling. 'Which dock is this ship using?'
Kehrsyn turned, glanced once at Ahegi, and looked back down at her feet.
'That'll be another copper,' she said. 'Sir…'
She heard Ahegi inhale sharply, and in her peripheral vision she saw him rise up in anger and raise a hand to strike. She flinched away, and he stopped, his raised arm quivering.
'Very well,' he said through gritted teeth.
He tossed another copper. It landed on the floor, by the door.
'They said they'd take it to the Long Wharf, sir,' Kehrsyn lied. 'It's a large ship, you see, but maybe you can buy out the whole shipment before anyone else shows up, right?'
'Begone,' he said.
Kehrsyn was only too happy to obey. She wanted to be away from his abraded voice.
Knowing I'll be stealing from him, she thought, certainly makes my next task more palatable.
CHAPTER EIGHT
His hooded cloak furled around him to ward off the chill, Demok moved through the streets of Messemprar. Ahegi's bodyguard led the way, scanning the streets for danger, though few people were even out, let alone lurking around in such freezing weather. Ahegi followed, along with a smattering of aides, including one who carried a locked strongbox loaded with pieces of gold and platinum, some tradeweight pearls, and, hidden beneath a false bottom, a silver necklace studded with diamonds that looked more valuable than it actually was. Ahegi was fond of cheating greedy merchant captains.
Demok was one of three whose duty was to guard the bearer of the strongbox. He smiled in the dark. Receiving sensitive assignments like this proved that those of Wing's Reach had not yet discerned his true allegiance.
The thin layer of snow crunched underfoot as the group made its way to the docks. Freed from the impact of thousands of feet, the day's slushy remains were hardening into piles of ice at the sides of the street, beneath a pristine dusting of white.
Demok scowled. The Long Wharf was the easternmost dock, the farthest from Wing's Reach. It stood squarely in the mouth of the River of Metals, washed alternately by seawater and fresh water in the ever-shifting tide. Off-loading the cargo on a slippery, icy wharf would be a hazardous task. Doing so at night would be foolhardy. Even sanding the dock might not avail, with the constant snowfall.
Demok trotted forward until he was even with Ahegi's bodyguard. He scanned the street ahead with his keen, experienced eye. They were moving by the most direct route to the docks, down the grand, wide Avenue of the Gods. A short while ago, some messenger had run from the docks to Wing's Reach, bringing news. A person running at full speed would leave tracks in the snow, perhaps occasionally even wide, scudding marks as she lost balance on the cold, wet flagstones. Yet there were no such tracks.
If enough time had passed, they might have been snowed over. He called for the group to halt. They did, though Ahegi and the others were noticeably perturbed. Demok was, after all, delaying their chance at getting first crack at a new shipment of food.
Demok checked the avenue from one side to the other. He saw nothing, aside from a plodding pair of tracks belonging to a man with a limp and his poorly shod mule. Based on the snowfall in the footprints, they had passed maybe half an hour before. There was no sign of a fast-moving messenger, and even had that messenger taken another route, why would there be only one messenger, and why would said messenger head to Wing's Reach?
Demok waved the group on, then turned back. He'd be most interested to see what sort of tracks had been laid in front of their door. He didn't think he'd like what he'd find.
Hiding in the shadows in a nearby alley, Kehrsyn watched the group of hopeful merchants leave Wing's Reach. Ahegi loomed half a head taller than the others. Once more, Kehrsyn's heart trembled at Ahegi's appearance. She tried to write it off to his authoritarian demeanor. She'd had a lot of bad experiences with those in power throughout her life, and Ahegi comported himself like another budding tyrant with his imposing size, chiseled bald head, and scowl.
Once the group had turned the corner and left her view, Kehrsyn wriggled out of her slit skirt. She would need all the flexibility her leggings would allow. She didn't want to leave the skirt lying around, so instead she put it around her neck like a cowl. She stole back across the street, pulled out her length of twine, and tied one end to one of the shutters near the guards' table. Moving across the front door toward the far corner of the building, she trailed the twine behind her.
She paused in frustration. The twine was a bit short. It didn't come nearly as close to the other window as she'd hoped. She sighed, exhaling slowly, building her resolve. Nothing for it but to try. The longer she tarried, the more likely her ruse might be discovered. She set the twine down, trotted to her target window, and pried it open with her fingers, just enough to ease her work. She moved back to the twine, then pulled off her boots and tucked them into her sash. The cold, wet snow leaked through her socks, but she bore the discomfort; she didn't want to risk having the hard soles of her boots make noises where her woolen-clad feet wouldn't.
She gave a tug on the twine. The shutter didn't budge. Since the twine was almost exactly in line with its hinge, the shutter was very resistant to being moved. She had to tug hard enough to overcome its inertia but not so hard that it would bang open unnaturally. She held her arm out to her side and tugged again. Nothing. She sneered
