The guards were fewer within the manor, but the abode was
heavily fortified with mage wards. If he truly wanted to get into any of the
more interesting places, he was really going to have to work at it…or bring
along a mage…perhaps one who claimed to be able to easily break mage wards.
Despite the security measures, Rezkin did eventually find an unwarded entrance
to the hidden wall passages in a broom cupboard. It was obvious the passage had
not been used in a very long time, perhaps a couple of hundred years. He had to
use quite a bit of oil and back strength to get the thing to open. Once he was
inside, he scattered a grey powder across the portal to simulate the years of
accumulated dust so no one would mark his passing.
The inner passageway lacked most of the security measures
prevalent in the rest of the mansion. The spy finally stepped from behind a
tapestry into the duke’s private office. The ward around the entrance appeared
to be designed to stop him from entering at all; but once he forced his way
through, he felt no tingling sensation radiating from the ward. This meant it
was unlikely anyone had been alerted to his presence.
Rezkin had been trained thoroughly on how to identify
different types of wards by the feel of the energy. He had been
mostly
certain this one would not sound an alarm once he passed through. Using the
focus techniques associated with his
Mage Power Defense Skill
, he had
been able to bypass the ward and its intended effects. If he sensed the ward
correctly, the interaction would have ended with him burned to a crisp or turned
inside out or some other ghastly fate.
Rezkin surveyed the room and its contents. Aside from a few
missives regarding questionable trade practices, he found nothing of interest.
The duke was a cunning man, though, and he would likely be intelligent enough
to know not to store truly important documents in such an obvious place as his
office. The spy searched the connecting library and then passed into another
secret corridor that had been hidden behind a bookcase. Secret passageways were
always hidden behind tapestries and bookcases or under rugs. It was cliché, but
only people like Rezkin would be looking for them, and the extra locks, bars
and wards were there to defend against people like him. Unfortunately for the
targets, all of these security measures did little good against The Raven.
Beyond the bookcase was another small, empty room with not
even a rug or table. The spy could feel the energy wafting off the floor,
though, and he knew he had found another entrance to the underground space.
Considering the distance and direction to the other entrance, the underground
space had to either be massive, underlying at least half the manor house or
consist of an extensive system of corridors. This one, again, was odd and gave
Rezkin the feeling it would sound an alarm if breached.
There was almost always a secret entrance to subterranean
corridors from somewhere off the estate grounds, but it could take him weeks to
find it. Rezkin simply did not have that kind of time. He would have to try to
convince Wesson to join him for an excursion, but the journeyman was not his
vassal. Wesson was merely a paid employee, and he would probably reject the
idea of breaking into the home of a sitting duke. The mage already knew far too
much for one who had sworn no loyalty or allegiance, and Rezkin did not want to
risk distancing the young man. He would have to consider his options carefully.
The warrior-spy eventually made his way up to the duke’s
chambers. Two of the duke’s House Guard stood sentry outside the door. This was
good. It meant the door to the suite was probably only weakly warded, if at
all. Men like this were severely bored with standing guard all night in front
of a door that no one ever approached. They would be over eager to investigate
anything unusual.
Rezkin slipped back into the secret passageway and followed
the scents for a short distance. Eventually, he found what he was seeking and
snatched it up quickly. He made his way back to the corridor opposite the
guards and began tapping intermittently on the stone floor.
“Did you hear that?” one guard quietly asked the other.
“Yes, I should go check it out,” the second quickly offered.
“No, I will go. You stay here and guard the door,” the first
proposed.
“Hhh, fine, but hurry up,” the second said.
The warrior set the pudgy rat before a small hole in the
base of the wall and clipped its tail between two boards within the secret
passage so it could not run away. He quickly made his way back through the
hidden passageway and noted that the taller of the two guards had left his
post. Rezkin cracked a side door and slipped a shutter open. The window was
barely more than an arrow slit and could not possibly fit a person, but it
easily allowed a draft to pass through. The torch on the opposite corridor
began flickering violently, casting strange shadows across the walls that could
be seen from the hall in which the guard stood.
The spy made his way back to the other side of the corridor
and snuck up silently behind the guard whose attention was turned to the
flickering shadows in the opposite hall. The guard’s attention was abruptly
drawn to the first guard rounding the corner as he stared down at a large dead
rat in his hands. Rezkin tipped the latch and slipped through the door.
“What have you there?” asked the second guard.
“It was nothing but a rat that got himself stuck climbing
out of a hole. He is a fat one, too,” the other guard stated.
Their voices were muffled as the door latched shut behind
the intruder. That particular entry had been a close one, and Rezkin had nearly
been caught. He was lucky no one was present in the outer chamber when he
entered, as well. Rezkin decided the duke must be an expert in wards, because
even the palace had not been so heavily warded. It was no wonder the man
believed he was safe with the light guard staff if he was overconfident in his
wards.
The duke’s personal suite consisted of an outer sitting
room, a study, and the bedroom. Rezkin rifled through a table in the sitting
room just to be thorough and then entered the study. None of the wards within
the suite were spelled to do any damage. They were solely meant to dissuade
anyone from entering where he or she should not. Rezkin was unaffected as he
kept his focus. The duke’s study proved to be a bit more interesting but not immediately
useful. It seemed the man was having an affair with Lady Chiselia, the
unmarried daughter of Baron Esceran whose meager lands were contained within
the duchy in the southeastern portion of the island.
Rezkin idly wondered if the duke intended to do away with
his wife and take a younger bride in hopes of getting a male heir. The young
woman was less than half the duke’s age and considered herself a poet if her
torrid love letters were any indication. Rezkin nearly smiled at his fortune.
He may have to take a half-day to visit the Esceran estate and see if he could
find a matching set. It was perfect blackmail material if nothing else. If the
duchess
did
come to an untimely end, the letters could be used as proof
against the duke if someone questioned his involvement. Still, this was not the
information for which Rezkin was looking. The duke had been smart enough to
keep that kind of proof carefully hidden or destroyed. Rezkin wondered if
Hespion would have been so careful.
Having spent several hours perusing the duke’s estate
already, Rezkin decided to investigate Hespion’s quarters at a later time when
the man was not in his chambers. The young warrior knew a secret passageway
extended from somewhere within the duke’s quarters, but he had other ideas for
his grand exit. The only window leading to the outside was in the duke’s
sleeping chamber. The ward on the chamber door was strong and set to permit
entry only by certain people. Rezkin had previously been trained how to outwit
such a ward, but at least now he understood how the ward was constructed, after
speaking with Wesson about aura reading.
Rezkin intently focused on the ward and
willed
it to
believe he was one of those who were permitted to pass. After a few intense
moments, the ward gave way and Rezkin passed through without the alarm
sounding. Truly, mage wards were not as spectacular as the mages thought them
to be if a simple mundane could defeat them with nothing more than a focused
mind. Rezkin pondered for a moment whether or not he should attempt to
investigate the duke’s wardrobes and trunks but ultimately decided against it.
It was unlikely the man would leave anything to be found by the chambermaids or
even his wife, if she was not in on the plots. He could always return later
when the duke was not present, and it would be much easier to go about his
business of spying on the man.
The warrior-spy knew that as soon as he opened the window, a
ward would alert the duke. He had already prepared for this and integrated it into
a larger plan. His swords were strapped to his back, rather than his hips, and
he drew around him a dark raggedy cloak, pulling the hood low over his face.
The hood was stiff and stood out far enough not to block his sight but cast his
face in shadow so that only his mouth could be seen.
The duke jolted awake as an alarm buzzed through his veins
and sounded loudly in his mind. In an instant he had gathered his energy and
formed a general shield around himself. Before his eyes had even fully focused
on the dark room, he was preparing an attack. A pale blue flame revolved in his
hand in a small ball of pulsing light and swirling shadows. Ytrevius’s eyes
finally fell on the figure crouched in his windowsill bathed in silver
moonlight. It was a wraith or a man, and it had breached his personal
sanctuary. The figure moved no further into the room.
The duke knew not why it waited, but neither did he care to
discover its intents. He lobbed the blue flame at the figure, and in the split
second it took to sail the short distance, Ytrevius had already formed another.
He had not yet launched the second when the first splashed against the figure
and ran off like water to no effect. The crouching figure grinned an eerie
smile with glowing white teeth on a dark, shadowed face. Ytrevius was horrified
to realize that not only did his blue flame have no effect, but he also felt
absolutely no mage power emanating from the being. With whatever power the
thing wielded, it could not be human.
The maw gaped open and out poured a deep and hollow voice.
“The
True King
rises. Lend him your blade or fall on
his
.”
Before the duke could take a breath, the creature was out
the window. Ytrevius lurched forward and peered out the third floor window,
looking all around the dark grounds. He could see no movement save for that of
the guards who were patrolling as usual. The wraith had completely disappeared,
and not one of his guards had taken notice of the fiend, nor had any of the
outside wards reacted to its presence.
What kind of creature can walk
through wards and bathe in blue flame with not a care? Not a creature of this
world
, the duke thought to himself as his quivering bladder alerted him to
more immediate concerns.
Rezkin arrived back at the inn three or four hours before
his normal time to rise. Since the inn’s outside doors were locked and barred,
Rezkin decided it would be easier to slip in through the window. His room was
on the second floor, and the lip of the sill was nearly non-existent. He swung
down from the roof and teetered on the tips of his toes before lifting one leg
and pressing his back to brace himself in the inset that was only a few inches
deep.
The warrior peered through the glass and spied his
companions asleep in their beds. With a frown, he noted the knife tucked under
the window in the manner he had shown Tam. Tam was not supposed to be in the
room, though.
Perhaps Wesson picked up the habit,
the warrior pondered.
It was unlikely since Wesson would probably depend on his wards just as much as
the duke. Rezkin disengaged the trap easily and pressed through Wesson’s ward
with barely a thought. After closing the window and reapplying the knife trap,
Rezkin turned and removed the tattered cloak.
A small motion in the darkness caught his attention, and a
mage flame appeared over Wesson’s outstretched hand. The mage and Tieran were
lounging in their beds, Malcius was pulling himself up from Rezkin’s bed, and
Tam stood from where he had been laying on the floor. The warrior simply looked
at the traitorous cohorts and said, “What?”
Malcius’s surprise was evident when he answered, “We wanted
to know how you do it.”
Tam scowled and argued, “What is the point of putting the
knife there if you can so easily get around it?”
Rezkin raised a brow and said, “The knife was not meant to
keep
me
out. It was meant to alert you if someone
else
tried to
get
in
. Few others would know to look for it.”
Tieran scurried over to peer out the window. “How did you
get up here? We are on the second floor, and there is no ledge or sill.”
The warrior shook his head and replied, “There are plenty of
handholds, and I am strong enough to hold my own weight.”
Wesson crossed his arms like a disapproving master and said,
“That does not explain how you got through my ward. You just walked through it
like it was nothing but air, and I did not even feel anything.”
“I told you before – it just takes focus,” Rezkin
answered offhandedly as he sat on his bed and began removing his boots.
“Focus?” the mage scoffed. “It takes
years
for a
trained mage to be able to break through a ward like that, which would alert
the caster, and that is exactly what you have to do in order to get through
it,” Wesson protested.
Rezkin lifted a brow and looked at the mage as he tugged off
a stocking.