Dishonored--The Corroded Man by Adam Christopher

Author:Adam Christopher
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3, pdf
Publisher: Titan

14

BRIGMORE MANOR, MUTCHERHAVEN DISTRICT

12th Day, Month of Darkness, 1851

“The true weapon of the enemy is their eyes, because with their eyes they can see where you are, they can see what you are doing, they can see how you can be defeated. You must use your own eyes first, and act so that the enemy cannot. The art of spying is as noble as the art of war itself.”

— A BETTER WAY TO DIE

Surviving fragment of an assassin’s treatise,

author unknown

Emily lay on the bare floorboards of the room above the long gallery, peering down at the interrogation through a small gap in the floor. The room she was in hadn’t been stripped yet, and was old, musty, and rotting.

She had watched as the old man with the knuckledusters had gone too far with his interrogation, killing two Whalers in a row. She had watched as Corvo stood by, impassively. At first she’d been shocked at how her father was just letting the other man dispense out such brutality. But Corvo hadn’t taken part himself, and then Emily witnessed the argument about it between the two men.

She felt better. Not a lot, but she felt better.

It looked as if they were getting some answers from Rinaldo, who seemed very keen to cooperate. And whatever Rinaldo had had in his pocket, Corvo seemed to know what it was. She thought she could hear something else in his voice, a change, husky and echoing from behind his mask. It wasn’t fear—the Royal Protector was never frightened—but something else. A quiet, but deep, concern.

Whatever the little thing was, it was important.

There was a creak from somewhere above. Emily looked up. The upper levels of the mansion seemed to be just as rotting as this floor, which made sneaking around difficult. Even for someone as experienced as her.

As experienced as Galia.

The boards above were broken and gappy, and in this part of the house the roof itself had partially collapsed, allowing moonlight to stream in. Moonlight, which cast a brief, flitting shadow that moved across as Emily looked up and watched Galia hopping across the gap.

Trying not to put a foot through the rotting floor herself, Emily stood and began to look for a way upstairs.

* * *

The upper floor of the house was even more difficult.

The room she had been in, with the collapsed ceiling, was easy enough to navigate, the moonlight providing ample illumination as she skirted the holes in the floor. But beyond, the next room was in darkness, almost as though something—a large tree, perhaps—had fallen onto the roof, plugging any gaps and blocking the windows on the moonlit side of the house.

Emily began to pick a path around the edge of the room, then discovered there was a door in the wall. It led to a smaller room that looked mostly intact and was, importantly, better lit. Here the window was free of debris—and of glass—and the moonlight streamed in, almost as bright as day.

The room was square and empty,

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