But most of all, and reason enough unto itself, it got the tasteless act done with. She wasn't sure whether she'd deal with post-theft guilt better than she dealt with pre-theft trepidation, but she'd had enough dread for one day and was willing to try guilt, if only for variety.
She approached Wing's Reach from the rear, diverting through the alley to drag a bale of hay from the stables across the street to rest against one wall, just beneath a pair of windows, one window on the second floor and one on the third. She pulled her dagger from its hiding place beneath the bag and tied its scabbard to the back of her left forearm with the scraps left over from her cut bootlaces. That done, she pulled a ball of twine from her bag, then concealed her bag against the wall under the hay.
With great reluctance, she untied her rapier and scabbard. She placed them in a large urn half full of rain. The thin ice covering cracked as she shoved the wooden scabbard through. She hated to treat her scabbard like that, but it would either soak in the ice for only a very short time or else she wouldn't have need of it again.
She moved around to the front doors, which were as old-fashioned as the building was aged. Inertia alone held them closed, and the only way to latch them was with a large, heavy timber. She paused, breathing deeply and rapidly until she was on the verge of hyperventilating. Aside from being a part of her disguise, the slight fuzz it gave her brain helped quash her fears and reluctance.
She burst in the front door without knocking. As expected, she entered into a large foyer with a nicely tiled floor and smooth, white walls covered with traditional, stylized Untheric murals. To Kehrsyn's left, a single lamp hung from a chain dangling from the rafter. Two guards sat at a small table beneath it, wrapped in their cloaks and playing at a game of sava. Kehrsyn's sudden and loud appearance startled them. One tipped over the table-sava pieces, coins, wine, and all-as he burst to his feet and jumped back. The other displayed more presence of mind but less grace as he seized his khopesh, tripped over his cloak, and fell to his knees.
"What do you think you're doing?" bellowed the guard on the floor, while the other tried to cover for his surprise by grabbing his weapon as well.
Kehrsyn labored with her lungs, noticing that, even inside the foyer, she could see the vapors of her breath in the air.
"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.