Celadonian Tales Vol: 1 Blood and Brass Read Online Free
Author: Walter Shuler
stack of coins.
Matt remembered to tug the window closed behind him, but did not latch it. He needed to get back out again in a hurry, and the window might be the only way without running the gauntlet of Torgen Sen's guards.
Matt stopped to survey the room. It seemed to be a study; shelves of books lined two walls and an immense desk took up the majority of the space. The room was small, but warmly furnished. A heavy rug covered most of the floor and mitigated the chill somewhat. Only one door lead out of the room, and the only window was the one through which he had entered. All in all, this seemed the perfect place for him to enter the villa.
The thief opened his tunic and removed a coil of rope. Choosing one of the desk's legs as his anchor point, he made it fast. Knotting the rope firmly, he tossed the remainder under the window. Matt wondered about the wisdom of just hanging the rope out the window now, but the fear that some random guard would spot it and raise the alarm stopped him. Instead, he settled for leaving it as close to the window as possible. He'd have no time to worry about it when making his exit. Ever cautious, he double-checked the knot. It would never do for it to come loose when he was dangling halfway to the ground.
Matt stepped to the door and pressed his ear to the wood. He heard nothing from the other side. It seemed Iharan was right and the place was deserted. Matt decided to chance it, opening the door just a crack. Pressing his eye to the narrow slit, he could just make out a dimly lit hallway. A torch guttered in its iron sconce farther down, but no one seemed to be about.
Easing the door open farther, Matt stepped through into the hall. All seemed quiet and the thief breathed a small sigh of relief. He would not have put it past the servant to have taken his money and promptly sold him out. No doubt the merchant would have paid a handsome sum for the knowledge that Iharan could provide. Either the servant was too stupid to have double-crossed Matt or the man hated Sen as much as he'd said.
According to the information that the servant had given him, Sen kept his greatest treasure not in a vault or under guard, but locked up in a room on the top floor of his villa. Matt only needed to turn left at the next intersection and he would be almost there. Iharan promised there would be no guards at the door tonight. He was to go to the end of the hall and open the last door on the right – the red door. It all sounded a bit too good to be true, but he could not pass up the opportunity, not for a score of this size.
As silent as fog creeping up the River Cel, Matt moved down the corridor. Low-burning torches sputtered along the way, but they were far enough apart that Matt did not fear discovery. He moved from one puddle of darkness to the next, calling on every ounce of skill learned stalking the streets of Celadon. More quickly than he had anticipated, he encountered the first intersecting hallway. Was this the one that Iharan had meant? A quick glance down the left branching showed him little. The darkness was deeper here, it's velvet caul pierced by only a single torch. The right passage was better lit.
Sudden voices made the thief pause. The tromp of heavy boots followed and Matt retreated, pressing himself into the concealing shadows of a doorway.
"Where's Sen at tonight then, Dineh?" a deep voice asked.
Another male voice answered, "Dunno, Hathe, he don't check in with me before anything, now do he?"
Matt could see neither of the speakers, but the sound of their boots grew louder as they approached the intersection. He held his breath, willing himself invisible. He could only pray that the shadows concealed him, and that the approaching men would take a different turning.
He risked a glance past the edge of the doorframe to see two guards stop in the center of the intersection. Both wore Sen's arms on their cloaks.
"Now Dineh, there's no need to be an arse," one said.
"Weren't being
Matt remembered to tug the window closed behind him, but did not latch it. He needed to get back out again in a hurry, and the window might be the only way without running the gauntlet of Torgen Sen's guards.
Matt stopped to survey the room. It seemed to be a study; shelves of books lined two walls and an immense desk took up the majority of the space. The room was small, but warmly furnished. A heavy rug covered most of the floor and mitigated the chill somewhat. Only one door lead out of the room, and the only window was the one through which he had entered. All in all, this seemed the perfect place for him to enter the villa.
The thief opened his tunic and removed a coil of rope. Choosing one of the desk's legs as his anchor point, he made it fast. Knotting the rope firmly, he tossed the remainder under the window. Matt wondered about the wisdom of just hanging the rope out the window now, but the fear that some random guard would spot it and raise the alarm stopped him. Instead, he settled for leaving it as close to the window as possible. He'd have no time to worry about it when making his exit. Ever cautious, he double-checked the knot. It would never do for it to come loose when he was dangling halfway to the ground.
Matt stepped to the door and pressed his ear to the wood. He heard nothing from the other side. It seemed Iharan was right and the place was deserted. Matt decided to chance it, opening the door just a crack. Pressing his eye to the narrow slit, he could just make out a dimly lit hallway. A torch guttered in its iron sconce farther down, but no one seemed to be about.
Easing the door open farther, Matt stepped through into the hall. All seemed quiet and the thief breathed a small sigh of relief. He would not have put it past the servant to have taken his money and promptly sold him out. No doubt the merchant would have paid a handsome sum for the knowledge that Iharan could provide. Either the servant was too stupid to have double-crossed Matt or the man hated Sen as much as he'd said.
According to the information that the servant had given him, Sen kept his greatest treasure not in a vault or under guard, but locked up in a room on the top floor of his villa. Matt only needed to turn left at the next intersection and he would be almost there. Iharan promised there would be no guards at the door tonight. He was to go to the end of the hall and open the last door on the right – the red door. It all sounded a bit too good to be true, but he could not pass up the opportunity, not for a score of this size.
As silent as fog creeping up the River Cel, Matt moved down the corridor. Low-burning torches sputtered along the way, but they were far enough apart that Matt did not fear discovery. He moved from one puddle of darkness to the next, calling on every ounce of skill learned stalking the streets of Celadon. More quickly than he had anticipated, he encountered the first intersecting hallway. Was this the one that Iharan had meant? A quick glance down the left branching showed him little. The darkness was deeper here, it's velvet caul pierced by only a single torch. The right passage was better lit.
Sudden voices made the thief pause. The tromp of heavy boots followed and Matt retreated, pressing himself into the concealing shadows of a doorway.
"Where's Sen at tonight then, Dineh?" a deep voice asked.
Another male voice answered, "Dunno, Hathe, he don't check in with me before anything, now do he?"
Matt could see neither of the speakers, but the sound of their boots grew louder as they approached the intersection. He held his breath, willing himself invisible. He could only pray that the shadows concealed him, and that the approaching men would take a different turning.
He risked a glance past the edge of the doorframe to see two guards stop in the center of the intersection. Both wore Sen's arms on their cloaks.
"Now Dineh, there's no need to be an arse," one said.
"Weren't being
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