Dhalthar looked around the dark room. He felt unprotected here, in the surface world, so high above the ground. He looked out the single window, then back to the straw pallet. Crusher Bones stood hunched near the door, flexing his massive claws.
They had been there for almost two hours, in the dark, and there was still no sign of their prey. He wagged his tail in frustration. Where was the stupid big human male and his non-human-thing female? Why wasn't he home sleeping where he should be? He knew he was in the right place, the female's nest held the male's scent.
The surface dwellers were all the same, both male and female; they wasted their time in drunkenness and debauchery. They deserved to be replaced by the Master Race of Ratfolks. He swore he would make those human-things in particular pay for the loss of a Black Magician's precious time.
He couldn't waste any more time. He had to meet with Helstaff to finalize the arrangements for the Duke's homecoming dance. Soon the time would come to tell the honorable duke that a friend of his beloved daughter Emilia, the duke of Nordland's own son, was secretly a mutant and, worse still, his daughter's latest lover.
The fact that none of those things were true was completely unimportant. What mattered was that when Helstaff had the future Duke of Nordland kidnapped and tortured, the news would be out. That would spark war between Bergland and Nordland, as the Duke of Nordland could not tolerate the insult of his own son being tortured by the Duke of Bergland's secret police. A civil war would start between the different dukedoms of the Kingdom, causing one of the largest human nations to plunge into anarchy, which would increase the power of the ratfolks. That thought excited Dhalthar so much that he had to take some powdered manastone to calm his nerves. The drug bubbled through his brain, filling him with delicious visions of torture, bloodshed, and agony.
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs roused him from his reverie. He nodded to Bonebreaker, and at that moment there was a hesitant tap on the door.
"Mr. Frey, it is me, Mrs. Zorin. I come to collect the rent!"
Before Dhalthar could counter-order him, Bonebreaker flung open the door and dragged the old woman inside.
"Mr. Frey, he doesn't have to be so rude!" Those were Mrs. Zorin's last words before Bonebreaker bit her throat out.
"Well, at least I won't have to feed my pet for the next three hours." the Black Magician thought, and waited until Bonebreaker had finished eating.
"Come-come on, we have things to do elsewhere." she told him later, and they both headed towards the sewers and the appointment with Helstaff.
♦ ♦ ♦
"We've done it, cat girl!" Frey exclaimed, and tapped a few more times to make sure. He then gave her a smug nod. "If we haven't found the secret passage, my mother was a troll!"
"I wouldn't bet it wasn't." Elysia thought, but she was very careful not to say it out loud. She watched as Frey set the short sword on the ground and began to run her fingers around the stone block.
"It's a good job; it is well concealed. It's probably the work of dwarves, I'd say. No wonder we didn't see it the other day. They must have hired a team of dwarves to dig this secret tunnel, and then made them swear to secrecy. Let's see; If I'm right, there should be…"
Frey's strong fingers pushed a brick into the wall, and there was a soft scraping sound of stone as the perfectly balanced counterweights shifted. A section of the wall receded, and Elysia saw a small hallway and a metal staircase leading up. Frey turned to smile. He seemed genuinely pleased.
"A very good job, really. That bastard must have gotten ahead of me, turned that corner and got in here. No wonder he couldn't find it."
"There is no need for excuses, Frey," Elysia said.
"They are not excuses. I just wanted to…"
"Are you going to stay here all night, young Elysia, or are you going to go upstairs and take a look around?" Rudi interrupted.
"Me?"
"Well, this was all your idea."
Elysia saw the discomfort on Rudi's face. The big man was scared at the prospect of breaking into the home of such an important citizen. No wonder, he thought. "He is a sewer watchman. He has spent the last ten years of his life catching criminals, not acting like one of them."
"Are you going to do it, Elysia, or am I going to do it?" Imagining the dark hero trudging up there galvanized Elysia into action. She remembered that Rudi had said that the Templars of the temple guarded the house. She didn't like the prospect of being found out.
"I'll take a look first." she said she. "And then I'll tell you if it can be climbed safely."
♦ ♦ ♦
Elysia caught her breath and looked around her. The ladder ascended to another small chamber with a single door, which opened into a large cellar.
Glancing back, Elysia saw that the door was attached to a wine rack, so that when closed it was virtually invisible. To check the label on one of the bottles, she blew away the dust that covered it and the emblem of one of the best wineries in the Empire stood before her eyes.
There's someone with expensive tastes around here, she told herself, and she spun around as she put her hand on the hilt of her sword, because she heard the ladder creaking behind her. Frey's head poked over the edge of the door.
"Don't get your leggings wet, Elysia; it's me," she said. Rudi then appeared. "Well, let's search the house to see if we can find our friend, the supreme magistrate."
"You don't hear much noise up there. The house seems to be empty."
"Let's hope so."
"I'll stay here" Rudi proposed. "To make sure your path of retreat is clear."
Elysia shrugged. That was probably better than having the big man fumbling up there.
"In agreement."
Elysia moved cautiously to the bottom of the stairs, holding the blind lantern's aperture to a minimum so that only the faintest glow of it emanated from it.
"I already told you; the house is empty," Frey declared.
Elysia had to admit that, by all appearances, Frey was right. Where were the Templars? Where were the servants?
"The guards will most likely be in the guard room, but where are the servants? Such a big place should have them."
"I suppose you understand those things."
"Yes."
Elysia placed one foot lightly on the stairs, and when the step creaked under her weight, a shiver ran through her. She stopped and held her breath, but no one came to investigate.
"Why are you moving so stealthily? There is no one here."
"I do not know. Maybe it's just because it's not my house. I feel like a criminal. Why do you whisper?"
"Right now you are a delinquent, and so am I. Let's search the house and see what we can find. You take care of the upper floor, and I take care of the one below."
Elysia didn't notice Frey moving stealthily, too, until Frey had quietly moved away. She continued up the stairs, hoping the steps wouldn't creak.
♦ ♦ ♦
In the bedroom, Elysia closed the opening on the dark lantern completely before drawing back a curtain and peering out. The window overlooked a large walled courtyard, and from where she stood she could see the street that stretched out on the other side of the wall. A large door gave way to the square courtyard, on the left flank of which were a stable and a coach house; to the right stood a small hut and a toilet for the servants. The courtyard was surrounded on all four sides by ancient oaks, and there were sentinels: tall, blond-haired men clad in armor. One was crossing the courtyard at a slow pace, coming from the guardhouse.
For a moment, Elysia feared that the man was heading inside the house, but before long he turned and headed toward a small hut next to the stables. Slowly, Elysia let the curtain return to her place, and then she allowed herself to exhale her held breath.
No, it would be better if he didn't get caught in there. The Templars of the Triumvirate cult had a reputation for ferocity, and there were at least half a dozen of them in the house.
♦ ♦ ♦
The most appropriate solution that she came up with when she found the door locked was to force it, for which she used the blade of her short sword. Upon entering, she found herself in a place that reminded her of the accounting office of the store of the father of her ex-owner.
It was a spacious room, dominated by an oak desk large enough to hold a party around. The walls were lined with filing cabinets; there were hundreds and hundreds of them. She opened one at random and pulled out a thick stack of sheets in precise handwriting.
Leafing through it, she came across the names of Emilia, the daughter of Duke Emmanuel, and notes referring to her best-known lovers. There was a long section dealing with suspected mutations within the family. Numerous sources of information were cited.
What caught Elysia's attention were the references to 'our most special source' and 'our friends from below'.
She picked up another file and inspected it. There were similar notes in it. One concerned the need for a certain Slazinger to disappear. The files were arranged alphabetically, and she couldn't resist searching for one on herself. After finding one about the wife of a baker on Pastel Street who shared the same name, she found hers on the second try.
Opening the folder, she saw her own name and began to read.