Tapestry Lion (The Landers Saga Book 2) by Nilsen Karen

Author:Nilsen, Karen [Nilsen, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2014-01-14T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen--Mordric

I paused at the foot of the embassy cellar stairs and glanced around before I went to the left. One could never be too careful. Once I had stumbled on a serving wench and a stable boy having a tryst--they had been too preoccupied to notice me slip past them, but next time I might not be so lucky. This was servant’s territory, and my presence here would raise questions that neither Rankin nor I needed.

The door was locked--Rankin stored the embassy’s best wines here, and only the head steward and Rankin had keys. Rankin had lent me his key as long as I was a guest at the embassy. I went to the last rack of wine bottles, lantern held high. This rack concealed the door to the gutters. The bottles sloshed under their coats of dust as I twisted the key in the lock, fumbled for the bolt, and swung the rack toward me. I slipped through the narrow passage and pulled the door closed. The damp stench of the gutters assaulted my nostrils, reminding me of the afternoon I had first arrived here and my several journeys since under the Midmarch streets. I would be glad when all this sneaking around and hiding was at an end.

The wet stones flared at my lantern. Any light down here, especially the yellow of candlelight, glowed a lurid green from the algae and moss on the walls. I strode through puddles of fetid water, inches deep in some places. When I reached the juncture of several tunnels, I paused. Was it the far left tunnel that led to the convent? I pondered for a moment, then realized I smelled something odd. A thick sweetness, like the smell of damp apple tree wood smoldering. A pipe--someone had been smoking a pipe down here. And not long ago either, for the smell to still be strong enough for me to pick it out from the familiar, overpowering stench of the gutter.

I pretended to glance around at all the entrances again as if I were still pondering, even though I was certain now which one I wanted to take. The far left tunnel would take me to the convent, but first I had to confuse my pursuit. I started down the middle tunnel, my lantern high and my ears pricked for any sound besides my footsteps and the constant drip of water.

I soon heard footsteps that weren’t mine. Whoever he was, he was trying to be careful to walk only when I walked. However, he gave himself away when I pretended to trip and then limped a few steps. His rhythm didn’t match mine at that moment, and I could hear him. Likely the fool hoped that I would think any extra sound was a stray echo.

I turned a corner, my lantern partly hidden under my cloak, and continued to march in place for a moment or two so that there would be no sudden silence to make him suspicious. Then I lunged back around the corner, drawing my sword so fast it flashed like a silver whip.

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