Stowaway (A Pirate Novel) (Completed)

Chapter 25 Stealth

Elle pulled the black bag from under the bed. She could faintly hear the noise from the tavern.

It would be another half hour before the rough and tumble patrons left the tavern.

Deanton had called for 'last call' only moments ago.

Elle laid all of her things on the bed. She put on the knives first. She tied a knife at each wrist and one on the right inside ankle.

After placing a bit of cloth in the sheath to muffle the of the sword being drawn. she fastened the sword to the cloth belt around her hips.

Repacked, she slung the pack over her back. Unhappily she removed it and put on the cloak and lifted the hood. That complete she put the pack back on her back.

She placed in the box she had gotten at the market on the bed and hoped it wouldn't be needed.

At the door she paused and looked at the room. The box was the only thing that showed someone  inhabited the room. Somehow it looked odd and lonely sitting on the perfectly made bed.

Her clothes, even the extra black cloth, was shoved in the dresser. Her coil purse was shoved under the mattress. Everything else she owned was on her body or on the ship.

Someone had came for the tea pot and empty plate. Elle had eventually ate and drank the last of the cold tea.

She slipped out of the room and down the hall. She pulled the hood low to concealing her features.

There was no one in the ally as she made her way through it.

She marveled that her heart didn't race. She was much calmer then she expected she would be.

She didn't try to hide in the shadows. It made her look less conspicuous. She made her way by the road in plain sight.

She knew that if she were seen she would simply look like a late traveler. She wasnt trying to hide to she would draw less questions and less attention.

Heavy clouds bloated out the moon and stars. Heavy traffic had  packed the road down. The path hard and  fairly even she had no problem making her way down the road but she moved slowly.

The chateau was a black spot in the darkness, an hour later.

She pressed her side to a tree and watched the windows. There wasn't a glimmer of light but still she waited.

She knew that Reginald had five dogs in a pack house 100 yards from the west wing. There was a linen shack 50 yards from the south wing where most of the servant housed. The West Wing was where he housed guests, his office, and storage in the attic area.

Her eyes tried to focus on the balcony. She pulled the pack her back and crouch down beside the tree.

Hook in hand, pack returned to her back she moved closer to the house.

Pressed against the house she she listened for any sound. There was nothing except the wind rustling leaves in the trees.

After a few minutes she stepped back and looked up at the balcony.

She held the rope, gave it a sharp tug that sent it spinning.

She looked at the balcony and relaxed her grip on the rope. As the hook sailed up the loose rope slid across her palm.

The hook stopped ascending and missed catching the railing. She stepped back as the hook fell. It landed with a soft thunk on the ground just inches from were she had stood.

She stooped down, retrieved the hook and set it spinning once again.

She launched it up and watched as it lost momentum. It came hurtling back down. She caught her breath as it landed on the railing, scrapped and caught.