Se’rie looked through the trees at the estate. The full light of Selune was masked by clouds, thin beams shooting to the ground and illuminating in patches here and there. A guard stood at the gate, lazily peering across the fifty feet of grass between the wall and the forest.
Sembian politics. Specifically Selgaunt politics. The home of Preskur Talendar stood before them, and tonight he was entertaining guests. Nawiel nudged Se’rie and pointed at a dog prowling along the south side of the road, across from them.
“Careful now,” Nawiel warned, her voice a soft whisper.
Se’rie nodded to her elven companion. “Ye didn’t bring a steak did ye?”
Nawiel rolled her eyes and moved north along the tree line, parallel to the walls. “Just don’t get downwind.”
Se’rie followed after the elf, slipping silently through the trees, away from the patrolling dog. Several yards from the gate, the high stone wall ended, a wooden split rail fence becoming the barrier between the grounds of the estate and the rest of the world. The companions waited for him to look the other way and then stole across the grass, leaving the safety of the forest and melding into the shadows of the wall.
Nawiel leaned against it and pointed to the fence.
“That’s rather welcoming,” Se’rie commented.
“It’s better than the gate,” said Nawiel.
Se’rie smiled, “How thoughtful of them.”
Surrounded by its own inner wall, they could see the manor house in the distance, many lights on within. Guards stood with lanterns at the entrances and a few more patrolled close to the manor with dogs. Between the inner and outer walls, there were vineyards and orchards, well tended.
Nawiel and Se’rie both slipped quietly between the rails of the fence and moved to a shack. Inside they could hear people talking quietly. Probably the groundskeeper, Se’rie thought, settling for the night.
Pointing past the north orchard, Se’rie led them through the small fruit trees. Beyond, a stream splashed down in a waterfall, near the north wall. The cliff that it ran down formed a natural barrier into the manor, but the splashing water served to mask any noises the otherwise silent intruders might make. Se’rie made a few attempts to climb the cliff face but the slick walls offered little purchase and she slid back, making no headway.
Nawiel reached into her pack and pulled out a thing braided rope, a steel hook tied to the end.
Se’rie gave her a puzzled glance, “What are ye going to hook that to?”
Nawiel pointed to the steel bars that made a short fence along the top of the wall.
Nodding, Se’rie looked back at the elf. “That will be loud,” she said. “Hopefully they won’t hear it over the water.”
Suddenly, there was a clamoring as the guards welcomed a carriage and the guests it brought to the manor. Nawiel took that moment to toss the rope over the wall, where it intersected with the cliff face. The excitement in the courtyard of the expected visitors overcame the slight ‘clink’ of the grappling hook rattling against the bars of the wall, the rope pulling taut as the hook secured.
Nawiel grinned, “I think it’s safe, nobody’s come running yet…”
Hauling herself up, Nawiel easily climbed the wall, throwing herself over the fence and crouching low on the other side, scanning quickly to see if anyone noticed her. Seeing that all was clear, she stood and looked down the side of the wall from where she had just come. Se’rie looked up at her and nodded when Nawiel beckoned her up. She grabbed the rope and effortlessly lifted herself up the wall. At the top, she reached out her hand and Nawiel assisted her over the wall.
Within the inner wall, they were now in greater danger of being seen. Several guards milled about, lanterns swinging in their grips. A guard stood at each door, and dogs prowled the grounds, sniffing the air. The two stood behind the barn, peering at the obstacles that stood between them and the inside of the house.
Somewhere in there, Preskur Talendar was welcoming Saclath Soargyl and, presuming the Uskreven girl was telling the truth, plotting a coup against her House. After everything Se’rie had learned in her dealings with the denizens of Selgaunt, she was not inclined to throw her lot in with any of the noble houses. Ruled by coin, it was beyond her ken how they operated. Still, Brynn Daleheart vouched for the young noble and that was more than enough for her.
It was Brynn that had arranged for Tazi to meet with Se’rie and Nawiel. When Se’rie left Waterdeep, still a girl, to live at the orphanage in Shadowdale, it was Brynn who had taken the wagon of children across Faerun. Nawiel had her own reasons for trusting the young woman.
Tazi had told them that Preskur had managed to get his hands on several documents important to House Uskreven. The result would presumably hurt the merchant house, with the ultimate losers being the innocents caught in the crossfire. Politics.
Nawiel tapped Se’rie on the shoulder and pointed to a slope that led to the continuing cliff. Se’rie nodded. From there they would be able to better see how to get into the manor.
A single guard stood in view of the slope, but it was only a matter of minutes before his attention roamed and both of the shadows darted past, making not a sound as they moved up the slope and took positions behind cover, looking over the manner.
“All the doors are guarded,” Nawiel observed.
“Right,” Se’rie whispered, “a guard at each door so…”
“We have to get creative,” Nawiel smiled.
Se’rie agreed, “Let’s go around the other way, there’s less lights I think, we’ll find our chance there.”
Rather than chancing the guard near the slope, they continued past it and silently slid down the raised cliff face, behind the barn. As she touched down lightly, Se’rie froze. A dog was several yards away at the wall where they had climbed up, sniffing the ground. It padded around the wall, away from them, towards the rushing water. The two moved swiftly behind the barn to the other side. They passed the carriage house and found the recently arrived carriage. Moving between the vehicle and the carriage house, they observed the manor.
As they watched, the dog came around the other side of the barn and walked up to the guard. It whimpered, but lacking the authority of a growl or bark, the guard dismissed it. “Off with you now,” he said as he patted the dog’s head. Reassured, it loped away. Se’rie pointed to a small garden behind the guard, where the deep shadows could hide them right against the large house.
They waited until the guard swept his gaze west and slid swiftly from behind the carriage and into the garden. Less than a yard separated them from the guard at the closest, but he heard nothing. Their experience in moving unheard was their greatest asset. Once against the wall, Se’rie pointed up. A window on the second floor was within a few feet of a foyer roof.
Se’rie put her hands together to form a stirrup and boosted Nawiel easily up onto the foyer roof. The elf looked into the window and quickly concluded that the room beyond was empty. The window was latched from the inside, but with a steady hand, Nawiel was able to open it, using a slip rod that fit easily between the two closed panes. It unlatched with a click that was deafening to the hyper aware, paranoid burglars, but the guards were oblivious.
Selune smiles on us tonight, Se’rie thought.
Nawiel entered the house and a few moments later poked her head out, giving Se’rie an all clear before lowering the rope. She tied the roper around her waist and sat down on the floor with her feet planted against the wall, bracing herself. Se’rie pulled herself up quickly and moved into the room, joining Nawiel on the floor with a sigh.
“That was nerve wracking,” Se’rie said, as she looked around the room. It was devoid of any real furniture or decoration. A few crates were stacked against the wall. The window was on the north wall, where they entered and the door on the south. Storage, but meant to be a bedroom.
Nawiel pointed to the door, then to her ear. Se’rie listened. She could hear the slight click of nails against the stone floor and, further away, the methodical tap of footsteps. “They’re right outside the door?” she asked, her voice a barely audible whisper.
Nawiel shrugged, “On patrol… they could be. I think this is a servant’s room.” Se’rie felt poorly for the servants. Not even a bedroll to lay out on the floor, unless they packed it away and nailed it up in those crates everyday.
Glancing out the window, Se’rie took note of Selune’s position. Hiding behind the clouds as she was, she was still full enough to find easily. “It’s not long til midnight.” She moved towards the door and listened for the steps. As they receded, she cracked it just a touch, enough to peer into the dark, torch-lit hallway.
The guard had a dog with him and they were walking away from them. They rounded a corner, futher down, out of sight. She began to count, while taking note of the doorways. Most of them were dark and she could see the doors, more bedrooms. One spilled more light into the hall, a passage then. Se’rie counted slowly to fourteen before the guard and his dog returned, making their way back up the hall. They stopped ten paces away from the room the two were hidden in before turning back again. Se’rie closed the door.
She turned to Nawiel, “The guard doesn’t come all the way to the door. He rounds a corner and then we have a fourteen count before he turns back again. There’s a few doorways, and one passage, maybe stairs leading down.”
Nawiel gave a slight nod and cracked the door herself, confirming what Se’rie had just told her. As the guard returned their way, she stayed at the door, beckoning Se’rie to be ready. She watched the guard turn around and move down the hall. As he neared the corner, Nawiel slowly and quietly opened the door to let them out, and when he rounded the corner, she padded quickly down the hall, her soft leather shoes making no noise. Se’rie closed the door behind her, counting. Following Nawiel to the passage, they saw that it led down to the first floor.
At eleven they reached the stairs, plenty of time. They moved far enough to be out of sight of the patrolling guard upstairs, each pressed against a wall. When they were little more than halfway to the first level, they crouched, taking stock of the room below.
It was a grand chamber, the entrance hall, obviously. Large double doors were closed on the far end with sentries posted on either side. One of them was nodding, the other was seated, playing some sort of solitaire. Muffled voices could be heard, coming from one of the side rooms. A servant was walking from a door on the east wall and moving towards them, angled. They both tensed, Nawiel putting her hand to her rapier. It would be an embarrassment to be seen by a servant after navigating past all of those guards and their dogs.
Tymora smiled on them, however, and instead of the stairs, he walked to a door on the west wall, near the staircase. Opening the door, he entered, closing it behind him. Se’rie let out the breath she did not realize she was holding. She looked at Nawiel.
“Do ye have invisibility?” she asked. “I think they are meeting in there.” She pointed to the east door, where the servant had come from. “If we can just get close and listen, we might be able to hear them. Do ye think that doorway is dark enough to escape notice if we can make it there unseen?”
Nawiel nodded, “If the doors open, we can go in. We can get past the torches with cloaked in magic, but opening the door is the trick.”
“Ye’ve two potions?” Nawiel nodded and Se’rie held out her hand. Nawiel placed a small vial in it. They heard steps from the door near the staircase, and it opened again. Both froze, exposed in the dark staircase, easily seen if one who was close bothered to look that way. The servant stepped out of the door, balancing a tray in one hand.
“Our chance, go!” Se’rie popped the cork and downed the bitter contents of the vial. Nawiel followed suit, disappearing before Se’rie’s eyes. They neither of them needed to see the other to trust their course of action. As the servant knocked on the door, they padded silently after him. He was acknowledged and told to enter. To their fortune, he was unable to close the door behind him, the large and full tray requiring all of his concentration.
Standing in the middle of the dark room, lit only by a few torches in wall sconces, and a brazier near the three speaking men, she quickly looked about. On the south end of the room was a large piano, her first thought was to hide behind it, but the chamber was large and the men were seated in high backed chairs around a table on the north end of it. She would have to strain to hear.
Trusting Nawiel to find a suitable place to remain unseen, Se’rie moved closer to the three men. The man in the south chair, facing north, acknowledged the servant and told him to wait outside the door. The servant left the tray, with breads, fruit, cheese, and wine, on the table. Se’rie thought a moment, then grinned. She moved to the northeast corner and sat behind the chair of the man furthest from the door. The shadows behind the chair gave her enough space to hide in, so long as none of the men had a sudden itch to look directly at her. She was out of direct, casual observation from any of them.
The three men were speaking about an untitled book that was on the table, now sitting next to the tray of food and wine. The book was presumably the target of their little trip, manifests and shipping documents detailing crucial business details of House Uskreven, most importantly scheduled shipments of valuable cargo. After the servant closed the door, they resumed their conversation.
“When are we doing this?” asked the man sitting in the chair Se’rie hid behind.
Preskur Talendar, assumed to be so as he had commanded the servant, responded, “Second-day of the next ride. You just hold up your end of the bargain and have your little pets ready.” There was a sneer in his voice.
The man in the third chair, on the northwest corner of the table sounded smug, arrogance spilling from his voice, “Careful, Talendur. We’ll have no official involvement in this, as you understand.”
“Yes, yes, as is usual,” Preskur was flippant.
“I’m warning you,” the man in Se’rie’s chair said, “if this… thing turns out to be a lark, I will hound you.”
“Spare me your empty threats, Soargyl.”
Talendar and Soragyl, Se’rie thought, but who is the third?
The book slammed shut. “I think we are through here, for now them. Allow me to show you gentlemen out.” The three men stood from their chairs and began to walk out. Se’rie peeked around the chair. Preskur had the book tucked under his arm as he walked his guests out. When they reached the door, Se’rie stood, noting Nawiel’s appearance from behind a column concealed by several potted plants.
They both moved to the door quietly, listening. Preskur had not bothered to close it. Peering out, Preskur was speaking some final niceties to the two men as they left. Then, the guards closed the door and Preskur walked back in, beckoning towards his servant. Se’rie ducked her head back, lest she be seen.
“Get that wench out here,” Preskur snarled. The servant moved quickly, and in moments, a slender woman with dark hair came from the servant’s hallway. Preskur handed her the book, “Put this back for me.” She affected a short bow and turned, heading for the stairway. Preskur turned and walked to another door on the west wall, away from the two intruders. The guards followed him with their eyes and Se’rie and Nawiel took the moment to move quickly out of the room, following the woman up the stairs.
Halfway up the steps, they stopped, seeing the woman move down the hall, she nodded to the guard and turned left, to the west wing. The guard passed and the two moved up the stairs fully, as quickly as they could while maintaining strict silence. The west wing had several rooms, but one door was open. They padded to that end and hid in an alcove. It was a library. Nawiel looked in on the woman and noted her placing the book in a bookcase and then pulling a few wires. The elf nodded to herself and then motioned Se’rie away.
Se’rie nodded and both of them, after waiting for the guard to pass, moved back to the staircase. They would have to wait for the guard to come by them again before they could return to the room of their entry and discuss what to do. The guard passed again and they moved back. From inside, Nawiel explained what the woman had done, while Se’rie peered out the cracked door.
The woman returned in the hallway, the guard giving her a respectful nod. “All done,” the woman’s voice was soft, “you can go back to your boring job now.” She walked into the stairwell, the guard looking after her, a frown on his face.
Se’rie closed the door and sighed. The two agreed to wait an hour before moving again. The hour passed slowly. Se’rie thought of her companion, Nawiel Di’malie, a proud, headstrong elf. Proud of her heritage, but open minded, about most things. Se’rie grinned as she thought of how she met the elf, cloaked in the body of a human woman. She had gone by Katrinis Thornblade, a bored noblewoman off to see the world.
Together they had, along with others, found the evidence needed to condemn the Black Temple and the Cyricists who held the city in a grip of fear. They had solved part of the mystery behind an entire temple’s clergy, gone missing years before, finding the only survivor locked away in a hellish plane, populated by the nightmares of the High Priestess of Cyric.
After that, Katrinis left the city, after asking Se’rie to accompany her to visit a friend. Two days travel from Selgaunt lived a woman, alone in the woods. The White Witch was known to very few and there she returned Nawiel to her true form. Se’rie was confused at first, but she realized that as Nawiel, the elf, she could have done little good for the city. Katrinis had been her friend, and Nawiel had trusted her with the secret of her transformation. Se’rie accepted her friendship and cherished it beyond any other.
Now, they were here, hiding in a dark room, a noble family sleeping around them and guards patrolling the halls. Tymora had smiled on them, thus far. But when Se’rie returned to the door after their wait, it was Beshaba’s turn to grant them a different sort of fortune.
Perhaps it had caught their scent, but when Se’rie cracked the door, there was the dog, away from the grip of the patrolling guard. The dog gave a short bark. Se’rie cursed and closed the door. Nawiel was looking at her, eyes wide.
Footsteps approached as the dog growled at the door. “What is it boy?” came the muffled query. Nawiel and Se’rie each moved to opposite sides of the door. Se’rie held tight to her cloak. She had hoped they could get through the night without being seen and definitely without spilling blood. She had one trick that might aid them. The door opened and the dog bounded in, the man behind it, crossbow ready. Se’rie stepped forward and swirled her cloak over the man and snapping it at the dog.
The magic of her cloak glittered as the enchantment tried to take hold. The dog stumbled and tripped, but managed to regain it’s feet, turning to snap at Se’rie. The guard swayed unsteadily for a moment but shook his head, his eyes focusing on Se’rie’s dark form.
“INTRUDER!” he shouted as he leveled his crossbow. This close, it would be near impossible for Se’rie to avoid a mortal wound.
Nawiel stepped from her place, rapier thrusting into the man’s neck. He gurgled in surprise, as his finger pulled on the trigger, launching the bolt. His aim spoiled by his impending death, the bolt grazed Se’rie’s arm, even as she thrust her palm between the dog’s eyes, knocking it out with a single blow.
Se’rie grabbed her arm, where she bled. The two could hear shouts from below. Nawiel shrugged and ran out of the door, down the hall to the library. Se’rie followed. The door was, of course, locked. With a curse, Nawiel pulled out a tension wrench and several picks. She put the picks in her mouth, holding them loosely with her lips.. Inserting the wrench, she gave it a slight twist. She looked at Se’rie, who nodded, grabbing hold of the tension wrench and holding it steady.
Nawiel then took her broadest pick and inserted it into the lock, raking it out. She dropped it to the floor as she selected the next pick for the process, using it to push the remaining pins into place. Shouts and yells echoed downstairs as guards gathered to rush to the second floor. With a click, Nawiel pushed the door open; Se’rie pulled out the wrench and picked up the rake, following the elf into the room.
Nawiel stopped before the bookshelf, her keen eyes picking out the thin filaments that held tension for the trap she presumed was there. Se’rie saw them as well, and they quickly followed the line through the shelves to their connections. Working quickly, they each cut the proper lines, disabling the trap and saving themselves from several nasty puncture wounds. Then they started rifling through the books. They could hear the guards bounding up the stairs.
Suddenly, Nawiel snatched a book out and held it up.
“Is that it?” Se’rie asked, hopeful.
Nawiel nodded. They looked about quickly and ran to the library window, unlatching it and pushing it open. There was a fifteen foot drop to the courtyard below, but with no guards in sight. They were all coming after them from the hallway, after all. Se’rie placed one hand on the sill and hopped, tucking her legs in close and pushing herself out the window. Nawiel watched as Se’rie landed, collapsing her legs and then rolling to the side.
Suddenly, the library door burst in, spilling guards into the room. They looked quickly at Nawiel, some with swords drawn, others quickly aiming crossbows.
“Damn it, I hate nobles,” she muttered as she jumped out the window, bolts clipping off the walls next to her. She landed hard, twisting her ankle slightly. She crumpled to the ground, grabbing it, with a slight yelp.
Se’rie bent down and grabbed her hand, hauling her up, “There’s no time for ye to be hurt!”
Nawiel nodded, “Go… GO!” she exclaimed through gritted teeth. They both ran around the manor towards the gate. A few guards that had remained outside after all loosed their dogs, a merry chase through the estate.
As they neared the gate, Nawiel broke off to the north, heading for the split rail fence. Se’rie continued towards the gate, hoping that it was barred from within and easily lifted. Of course, when she got to the gate she found the bar latched down with a lock. Not hard to undo, but with a dog promising to rip her throat out, there was no time. She looked quickly around. Nawiel was nearly out.
“Nawiel!” Se’rie cried, then she sighed. She took several steps back and ran at the gate. A few feet before it, dog nipping at her heels, she jumped, nearly running up the wooden gate, then grabbing the top and kicking off. For split moment, her form was silhouetted along the top of the gate, a perfect handstand, before her momentum took her to the other side. She landed in front of a very surprised guard.
“Well met,” she said, somewhat breathlessly as she dropped to a sweep, kicking the man’s legs out from under him. His head hit the ground with a dull thud and Se’rie was back up and running, full bore into the woods.
She shook her head. I’ll be glad when we’re away from here, she thought. The sounds of guards yelling out and forming teams to search the woods reached her ears. She kept running, knowing she’d meet Nawiel at a predetermined spot.
She rolled her eyes and smiled.
Politics.
awesomeness