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 with annoyance, looked both ways to ensure the street remained empty, then took a few steps out into the street and whipped the twine to the side, sending a wave along its length.

Success! The shutter creaked open. Kehrsyn slid back to the walls of the building, tugged the shutter just a little wider, then dropped the string and scooted over to the other window on the opposite side of the front room. She pried the shutter open just a bit-the shutter that hinged away from the guards, so they would not see a telltale gap-and listened.

"Gilgeam's gizzard, it's a cold night," one of the guards groused. "Pony up. It's my roll."

"Hey, no wonder it's so crapping cold in here," the other said. "That stupid idiot girl left the window unlatched. Go grab that, would you?"

"Fine, just keep your hands where I can see them."

"What, you don't trust me?"

The other snorted.

Knowing their attention was on each other and the open window, Kehrsyn pried the shutter fully open and pulled herself up. She carefully let herself down inside, crouching in the shadows in the far corner of the foyer, and closed the shutter without latching it.

She watched as the guard came back from the window, sat down, and resumed the game with his compatriot. Once they were engrossed in the game again, she moved quietly over to the stairwell at the corner of the foyer, keeping low and quiet, letting her cloak conceal her lithe limbs.

The wooden spiraling stairs offered little cover, but fortunately they were not lit, either. If worse came to worst, Kehrsyn knew she could climb over the railing for evasion or escape. She wrung out her socks beneath the stairs, then ascended, carefully walking on her toes along the inner edge of the spiral, for it was less likely to creak. She also knew that most people walked toward the outside, and therefore would be less likely to notice (or worse yet, slip on) the small stains of water her damp socks left behind.

She knew from the map that hallways circled the second and third floors, bisected in the center like a squared-off figure eight. The outer rooms were generally sleeping quarters, while the storerooms sat in the center. The stairwell came up at one corner of the hallway, and the room she wanted to reach was on the second floor, down the long hall and around the far side.

When she reached the second floor, she peered out of the stairwell and down the hallway. She winced in frustration. A guard waited at the center of the longer hall, at its intersection with the cross-connector. He leaned against the wall staring in her direction. An oil-lamp sconce lit the immediate area. Though his stance said he was not alert, she knew she could not sneak up on him. Presumably a second guard stood watch beneath a second lamp across the building, where the two could see each other. That ensured that any thieves would have to surprise and kill both simultaneously to be free to walk the halls.

Kehrsyn crept out of the stairwell, slithering low like a mongoose until she was safe in the short hall. She stalked silently to the other end to peer at the other guard. He paced back and forth, slapping his thigh with one hand and trailing the other along the wall. He only took a few disinterested paces in each direction, but Kehrsyn figured that would be enough.

She waited until he turned his back on her, then she glided quickly forward as far as she dared, to one of the doors. She lay down on the floor, tight against the wall, positioning herself just before the guard turned back. The skin on her burned arm protested being stretched and pressed, but Kehrsyn just gritted her teeth. She bowed her head so that her dark hair would conceal her face, trusting her cloak to hide her body.

She counted the guard's steps as he walked back up the hall, then heard the telltale grind of his feet as he turned.

As he started back down the hall, Kehrsyn rose and scooted forward, walking low, but taking large steps timed to land with the guard's heavy tread. She stopped at the last door before the intersection, the last door safe from the view of the guard opposite. She knew the room was most likely someone's quarters. No light came from beneath the door. It was early enough that she doubted anyone would be in. If they were awake, they'd likely be gathered around the fire in the main hall. She tried the handle, and found that it was unlocked. She gently opened the door, scooted in, and quietly closed the door behind her.

She paused, listening for any sound within the room. It was quiet.

She stood, pressed her ear to the door, and waited until the guard had approached, turned, then headed away once more.

Kehrsyn could make out the outlines of windows, so she crossed the room on her knees, hands out, legs moving in short, gentle steps. After finding her way across the black interior to one of the windows, she unlatched it by touch and peered out. The ornamental carvings made a ledge of sorts-not one she'd use if she had a choice, for the carvings were irregular and covered with snow-but suitable enough to her task.