Chapter 2 – The Party
She'd said yes. Which is how Daelynn found herself dangling from the side of a building in the rain. The fine mist that had cloaked Capitol in the evening had become a light but steady drizzle. It would not be long before her gown was soaked, her body frozen and her fingers forced to let go of the window's stone ledge. When she slipped, the fall would be about sixty feet. Crashing to her death on stony ground was not the way she thought her evening was going to end when she had departed for dinner. At least her last meal had been a good one.
Would that damn maidservant never leave the room? As if wishing made it so, the light from the window above her dimmed then went out. Ugh, finally! Daelynn hauled herself onto the stone sill and pushed at the shutter she had closed when she had fled to the ledge. Udún! The faithful servant had locked them! She managed to draw her blade without upsetting her balance and sending herself to the ground. It took only a moment to slide the fine, sturdy steel between the shutters and force the latch open. She dragged herself over the sill and inside the warm, silent, dark room. A tug and a tearing sound alerted her to the fact that her gown had caught on the rough stone of the building exterior.
Sighing heavily the young woman dragged the gown inside and closed the window. Her elven eyes easily made out the features of the room even in the near total darkness. She went to the lamp at the desk, used the strike-box that lay beside it, and soon had enough light to carry out an inspection of the damage. Not too bad. She quickly tied off the torn ends, tucked them away and got back to her examination of the desk that had been interrupted by the servant.
She had been told the object she sought might be hidden in the desk but she could not find anything like what Sir Roland had described. So, not in Lord Kessik's study and not in his exhibition hall. That left only one more place to search. His Lordship's bedchamber.
"So now ye know somethin' of the tasks r'quired, yer wondering why ye?" Sir Roland did not wait for Daelynn's response, but quickly sipped his wine and continued. "When a student near the top of her class at the Her'ldry College starts slumming in Old Town, some people take notice. Especially when she shows some skill in the concealing arts. I heard about yer little adventure on behalf of Mistress Alline. She's a good friend of mine, so don't worry. Ye've talents girl. They can be developed. This opp'rtunity might let you see what ye could be."
Daelynn was silent for a full minute. Something unusual for her. Sir Roland let her be with her thoughts, focusing his attention on finishing his meal. The elf maiden was flattered that her skills had been noticed; alarmed that she had drawn the attention of an obviously talented thief; concerned that Mistress Alline had divulged her involvement with the Black-Scars; and excited to be presented such a challenge. What to do? She decided to follow her father's advice - when in doubt, stop thinking and act.
"I accept."
"Excellent! Then best we be off. Ye've work to do tonight. Finish up and I'll get the carr'ge. Front door as soon as yer done. Oh, yer toy is under yer plate."
Sir Roland stood, smiled, bowed slightly to his guest and left the dining room by the back way. Daelynn moved the plate and recovered her throwing star. It had been cleaned and sharpened. She quickly took a few more bites, finished her glass of wine, threw her wrap about her shoulders and was at the door before Sir Roland. He arrived several long breaths later dressed in a formal cloak and carrying a walking stick. He escorted her outside where just beyond the gate stood a brace of coal-black horses hitched to a small but fine looking coach. A short, toadish looking man dressed in the typical frock, cloak and cowl of a coachman sat atop. They had barely seated themselves when the coach lurched forward and took off into the darkening night.
"This'll be a test of yer abilities Daelynn. But know this. A mistake not only means ye fail but it could mean yer life. It's a real job we be doing t'night. Do ye know Lord Kessik? No? A v'ry wealthy man with an impressive collection of art, statu'ry, jewels 'n such. There's this piece about the size of yer dinn'r plate. Blue and gold. Been broke in ta two parts. Called a Trysech. Rumor says that for t'night one piece'll be in his house. But tis soon to be moved, so we only have this even'n to complete the job! Grab the piece and get out. It'll be in one of three places; his exhibition hall, his desk in his study, or his bedchamber. This should get you through any doors." He handed her a silver key. "If yer caught, well then tis all on you girl.
Daelynn slipped the key into a hidden pocket in her gown. "I am hardly dressed for a... smash and grab? Isn't that what it's called?"
"Na, it's not, and na you aren't" replied the man. "But we're dressed for the masked gala being held at his Lordship's this v'ry night. Ye'll need this."
Roland handed Daelynn an ornate ball mask. He helped settle it over her head, then donned a similar mask himself. Her mask fit snugly and was not likely to fall off or be easily dislodged. More importantly, she could see quite well through it.
The coach came to a stop and the door opened. She looked out on a sprawling lawn lit by torches. Graveled pathways, their crushed marble reflecting the torch light, meandered up to an imposing five story building. The mansion was magnificent. An equerry held out this hand to assist her in alighting from the coach. As they walked up the path Sir Roland gave her a few last whispered instructions.
"At these affairs, you're expected to circulate, gossip, dance, drink and be impressed by the hosts refined opulence. I am Master Berwick, of the Merchant Guild. You are Lady Smantha Draska of Eastern Province, related by marriage to the Baron of the Cliff's second cousin. All's good?" Gone were the lilting phrases of the far northwest, replaced by a flat southern accent.
Daelynn nodded quickly, her breathing becoming rapid and shallow. Sir Roland reached down and squeezed her hand. She nodded again, took a big breath and slowly let it out, then commanded her heart to climb out of her throat and get back down in to her chest.
"Good", the old thief said.
The young elf extinguished the lamp, listened briefly at the study door, opened it and quietly stepped out into the hall. At the far end of the hallway stood the maid servant who had almost caught Daelynn sifting through her master's belongings. The woman was peering up the back stairway, one foot on the first step. She looked undecided as to how to proceed. Perhaps she was not permitted on the upper floor, but was curious? The maid was in her late twenties, with straight dirty blond hair and a thin, pale face. She was dressed in clothes appropriate to her station and duties. As with all Lord Kessik's staff this night she wore a smaller, plainer version of the gaudy masks the guests wore, and a dark brown, belted tabard. Daelynn remembered seeing her carrying wine glasses through the crowd in the exhibition hall. The woman had been as interested in the art collection as she was in carrying out her serving duties. The elf could not blame her. The exhibits were amazing to behold.
Daelynn straightened her gown and returned to the front of the house, stopping to look down the large open staircase that spiraled up from the main floor. The guests, all exquisitely dressed and masked for the night's festivities and most nearing inebriation, had tired of eating and dancing and were now spread throughout the lower two floors with several on the wide curved staircase beneath her.
At this rate, they'd be soon scattered throughout the house. She needed to get to the fourth-floor unseen and quickly! Daelynn turned back down the hall and walked swiftly to the rear of the mansion. The servant girl was nowhere to be seen. Unlike the grand staircase at the front of the house, the back stairs were constructed of wood, not marble. Stretched canvas covered each step and had been painted to resemble stone. The material slightly muffled her steps as she ascended.
The stairs opened onto a long hallway, well-lit by torches. About half way down the hall Daelynn saw the female servant kneeling in front of a closed door. She appeared to be wrestling with the latch. The elf stepped back onto the landing, retreating to the shadows. That damn woman was everywhere! And doing what, now? Polishing knobs? Daelynn peered out in to the hall again. The servant was gone. Gathering her dress in one hand and hiking it higher, Daelynn moved quickly down the hall counting doors as she passed them. Four. That should be Lord Kessik's bedchamber.
Daelynn adjusted her mask, looked up and down the hall, making sure it was empty. She pressed down on the latch and was mildly surprised that it engaged. The door was unlocked. Perhaps the servant had forgot to lock it? Not needing the silver key, she returned it to its pocket, checked the hallway one more time, then slipped into the room. She had just closed the door, her eyes not yet adjusted to the subdued light offered by a few lanterns and small fire in the grate, when the attack came.
The only warning had been the sound of a leather shoe scraping against the stone flooring. Hardly more than a soft 'ssstt', but enough for her sharp elven hearing to catch. There was no time to dodge aside. She presented her arms in a high cross block, hoping to intercept the blow she guessed was coming.