Theo and I have radically different ideas about burgling.
I've always felt that the challenges involved in planning a break-in and the intellectual rigor required to plan for all the possible scenarios you'll run into is just something you do if you wish to meet with some measure of success. To me, a successful burglary means getting in, stealing what you're after, then getting out without anybody even knowing you were there in the first place. It's about leaving your target in a daze, confused as to what could have possibly happened to the object they were attempting to protect.
In short, if the person you've robbed half-believes they must have misplaced whatever it was you've stolen, because they're utterly convinced there's no way anyone could have possibly made their way past their defenses without leaving some clue as to how they managed it, then you've done a good job of it. At least, that's how it is in my book.
Theo's approach is simply this - if at the end of the evening he manages to walk out of his target's home with the thing he wanted to burgle, the whole thing is considered a success. Even if it means knocking everyone unconscious, and leaving a trail of bound and gagged knights in his wake.
It's an approach I wouldn't exactly call 'subtle', but it does have its uses.
"Here's the sixth one," Theo grunted, gently depositing yet another unconscious knight dressed in Hartman's livery onto the grass beside the stable. "He's the one who was wandering around looking for his partner. Don't think he'll be waking up for an hour or so, but we'll want to truss him up like the others anyway."
I glanced at the collection of bound and unconscious knights that now lay in the shadowy patch of grass beside the wooden stable, feeling slightly uneasy.
"Something about this just doesn't seem right," I said, waving a gesture at them.
"Hmm?"
"You know . . . this."
"You think maybe we should stack them like cordwood or something?"
"It's just that . . . well, never mind. So that's everyone patrolling the back of the keep?"
"Yup. The door guards at the front are probably going to notice the sudden lack of perimeter patrolling going on, which means we're going to need that distraction of yours pretty soon."
"How long have we been here so far?" I asked.
Theo rubbed his chin and considered. "About twenty minutes or so. Add about five minutes getting over here from the shack where you left that . . . well, whatever the hell it was you left there." He wrinkled his nose at me for a moment. "What was that stuff, anyway? It smelled like rotten egg mixed with yak puke."
I shrugged. "Essences pulled from volcanic rock, mineral spirits, a few other things. I got the recipe from one of my journals - Lord Fenwick was something of an alchemist back in his day. Mix those ingredients together, and they slowly become a flammable, frothy mess that spills over the top of the flask you've mixed it in. Set a burning candle nearby, and you're set."
Theo scowled.
"I don't like fire," he muttered darkly.
Neither did I, actually. Fire was a tricky and unpleasant sort of thing, and not something I used as a distraction very often. At the best of times it was unpredictable - at worst, it was catastrophic.
Part of my responsibility as Lord was to protect the valuables and trade items belonging to those who were under my protection. Usually this meant preventing thefts and reimbursing people when things got stolen, but things like fires could happen as well. My guts always lurch whenever I catch word of a fire somewhere on or near my territory, and I invest a great deal of money into strategies to keep them from happening. Most other Lords do likewise.
So I knew that a fire, especially one within view of Hartman Keep, would bring several of his knights running. With any luck, it might even result in his entire keep emptying, which would make getting all the way up to the fourth floor much easier.
I'd been very, very careful when selecting the small wooden building that I'd purchased from one of Hartman's tenants that afternoon, finding one that was fairly well isolated and posed little threat of spreading to neighboring buildings. The last thing I wanted was for a relatively minor distraction to turn into a city-wide panic, or touch off an inferno that destroyed lives and livelihoods.
Theo and I remained crouched behind the stable for a while, watching and waiting.
"You're absolutely sure that stuff is going to work?" Theo asked.
"It's never failed me before."
"Ah. How many times have you used it before?"
"Once."
"Oh. Joy . . ."
"I've practiced and experimented with it quite a bit, because I wanted to figure out the timing. You know, this shape of flask verses that, overall distance between the flask and the candle, variables of that nature. I got it down to where most of the time the solution only took thirty minutes or so before lighting itself."
Theo wrinkled his brow at me. "Most of the time?"
"A couple ran into problems. One took fifty minutes, and another didn't go off at all. Ate right through the container and part of the table, too." I scratched my chin. "I still don't really know what happened with that one."
"Your words have me brimming with confidence," Theo said dryly. "So how long do we wait around for it? And what do we do if this stuff doesn't ignite?"
I shrugged. "We climb."
"You mean you climb, and then you help me scratch and claw my way up the side of this place."
"I don't think it'll be quite that bad. You're just a little out of practice, is all." I pointed. "That bit of roofing right over the door shouldn't be too hard to get up on, and once we're there we grab on to those rails on the underside of the soffit, make our way over to that dormer on the far side. From there, it's half a story of brick to scramble up, and we're within reach of the balcony ledge. Easy."
"Easy," Theo snorted. "You've got a build that is probably the envy of most scarecrows. You find that sort of thing natural because you're built for it. I doubt you'd find it 'easy' to pick up a wooden table and hurl it across the room at someone, whereas I-"
"Yes, yes, and it was very impressive to watch that one time you did that," I said. "We need to get to the fourth floor, so if we're not climbing, how would you propose we get up there?"
"Well, if the fire gets going like you hope, the call will go out, and lots of knights come running to put out the burning shack. We break in through the back door, sneak around the hallways near the back, since anyone still hanging around will probably be watching the spectacle from a window near the front. If we encounter anybody," he gestured at the collection of unconscious figures on the grass, "we do more of this sort of thing as we go."
"And if the fire doesn't happen?"
Theo shrugged. "Then the number of unconscious bodies we leave behind steadily increases. We're going to have to clear out or disable every guard on the third floor so that you're not interrupted once we find Hartman. We get to the fourth floor, track him down, secure the area, and then I leave so you can do your thing."
There was something odd about how he said that last bit.
"Something the matter?" I asked.
"Look, I get what this whole thing is about, but that doesn't mean I can't be concerned. If you're wrong about that note-"
"I'm not."
"You can't absolutely know for sure, Vince."
"We've been over this already. It'll be fine. What's the worst that could happen?"
"You get to buy something from the executioner's table, maybe?"
"Okay, I'll admit that's a possibility, and not something I want to happen, obviously. However, we've already planned for most of the eventualities, as well as figured out how we'll fix things afterwards, so I-"
Somewhere in the distance there was an urgent cry that sounded like someone yelling 'fire'. A second voice echoed it a moment later.
Crouching down further into the shadowy portion of the yard, the two of us watched for signs of activity on the portion of street we could see from our vantage point. I saw a couple of knights briefly as they hurried down the road, and in the same direction as the shack. A third knight scurried around the side of the keep, changing direction once his feet hit the grass, heading directly towards where Theo and I were situated.
I began to tense up a little, but after a dozen or so steps the knight stopped and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"Alexei, Galen!" he shouted at the stable doors, and at a volume that made me wince slightly. "Stop playing dice and get your butts out here . . . we've got a fire!"
As soon as the young knight had finished, he quickly turned and sprinted back around the corner he'd first appeared, heading for the street. I waited for a five-count before speaking.
"You know, I realize it's all part of the plan, but I really dislike loud noises when I'm busy skulking about," I whispered. "Strains my nerves."
"It's a fire, Vince," he said, his voice about twice as loud as mine had been. "I really doubt they're going to just run around and whisper stuff to each other. As it is, it's a bit of luck he didn't actually come all the way back here to make sure his friends heard him, or he would have ended up as number seven."
"He may come back."
"Well then, let's make sure we're inside by the time he does."
We set about crossing the yard and heading for the large, imposing wooden door that barred the rear entrance. By the time we were a few yards away I had retrieved my set of lockpicks from my satchel, and was sizing up the door in front of me.
Many, many journals have been filled with various techniques and bits of information concerning the art of disabling locks. I've done significant reading on the subject, but it can only prepare you for so much. It seems that every week someone's coming up with some new variant of door lock that offers an additional measure of protection, and it would be impossible feat of memory to keep track of them all. For the most part, a successful thief just needs to know some of the basics, as well as be a fair hand at creative problem-solving and figuring out how things work. This is because no matter how current your knowledge of various lock types or well versed you are on disabling them, when you're out and about you'll inevitably find yourself standing in front of something you've never seen before.
So, I stood there for a bit, silently considering a lock type I'd never seen before.
The door seemed to have two keyholes, one of which was shaped like a semi-circle. The other was what appeared to be a fairly heavy mortise lock, one that had lots of brass reinforcing the area directly around it.
Crouching down, I peered into the unusual semicircular hole to see if I could make out any pins, trying to imagine what the tumbler behind it must look like. Then I sighed.
"You're sure you don't want to do a little climbing?" I asked.
Theo chuckled. "Finally found a lock you couldn't pick?"
"It's only slightly ridiculous, but I was more concerned about our speed."
"If you're that concerned, you'll probably want to get started right away instead of just standing there talking about it."
I sighed a second time, then got to work.
It took me a full ten minutes all told, during which I ended up reducing the semi-circular lock to molten slag rather than try to figure out the bizarre tumbler-pin setup. I also ended up breaking two of my nicer heavy steel picks attempting to force the mortise bolt to one side, eventually sliding it back into the door frame and into its unlocked position. It was messy, though - I actually had to leave some of the slivers of broken lockpick awkwardly jutting out from the keyhole. Not my best work, (ten minutes is an embarrassment for someone like me) and both locks would probably be useless now, but we did manage to open the heavy wooden door and make our way inside.
The two of us crept down the darkened hallway and went through the open doorway on our right, which led us to the kitchen-pantry area. The fires from the oven were still burning, casting just enough light for me to make out some copper pots and pans, a prep table, collections of herbs and root vegetables, and other things you usually encountered in a kitchen. A portion of the large wooden table located at the center of the room had several food items and bowls arranged atop it, likely set out to facilitate the preparation of breakfast the next morning. Probably either crepes or biscuits, from the ingredients I could make out.
We silently swept through the kitchen area to the doorway located on the other side of it, entering a second darkened hallway that ran parallel to the one we'd come through. It wasn't all that wide, and had a stairway about fifteen feet away that looked functional, if rather plain and unattractive.
According to the keep's floor plan, the area above us held living quarters for some of the live-in staff, quite possibly those who worked in the kitchen. The plans hadn't specified that the stairs would be made of wood, though I'd figured it likely. Still, I had rather been hoping to find a stone staircase here instead, because once they've seen a few decades of use, there's usually nothing quite so loud and obnoxiously squeaky as a wooden staircase.
"You're absolutely positive you wouldn't rather climb up?" I whispered to Theo.
"Just go, will you?"
Creaking and squeaking from wooden structures was caused by planks bending and rubbing against the nails holding them in place. The best approach was to put most of your weight as close to where the nail was likely situated, rather than stepping in the middle and putting sideways pressure on them. With the light being so dim I couldn't actually make out where any of the nails were, but I assumed there would be some along the sides, next to the twin wooden rails that ran from top to bottom.
I put a tentative foot on the side of the second step and gradually transferred my weight upon it. Barely even a whispered creak. I let some of the air out of my lungs, stood fully upon the step, and slowly proceeded to the next.
It took several minutes, but I did eventually manage to make it to the very top of the stairs in near silence, the lone exception being the tenth step, which made a sound akin to a bullfrog being tortured the very instant I'd stepped upon it. Wincing, I'd quickly removed my foot from the offending plank of wood and tried the stair below it instead. That one was much quieter, and after a quick breath I continued my way up.
Once at the top of the stairway, I looked about me to ensure there was nobody in the immediate vicinity, looked down at Theo, and flashed a quick 'ten' signal to him with my hands before waving for him to come up.
Looking slightly bemused, he considered me for a moment, shrugged, then began walking up the stairs one by one in a completely ordinary fashion, stepping directly in the middle of each step as he did so.
Nerve-jangling creaks and squeaks erupted from the floorboards immediately, and my heart did its level best to leap into my throat. Mouth half open, I frantically began waving him back, gesturing at him and doing everything I could to communicate the need for silence. Theo didn't even look up, but simply put one foot in front of the other, noisily plodding his way up the stairs.
"Theo!" I whispered urgently. "Tenth step! It's-"
There was an ear-splitting bullfrog-torturing groan as Theo's foot hit that step, and then an almost identical one once he removed it and continued up the steps.
My heart was pounding so hard, I could actually feel it in my legs.
Once Theo had finally arrived at the top of the stairs, I tore into him as loudly and angrily as I could manage while still limiting myself to a barely audible whisper.
"For Baal's sake, Theo! What in Hades name did you do that for?"
He shrugged. "Wooden stairs, right by the pantry? You really think that people aren't used to hearing someone fetching themselves a snack at all hours, or using them in the middle of the night? We're fine," he finished, speaking in a soft conversational voice rather than resorting to whispering.
"That's not the point!" I whispered back angrily. "You saw what I was doing, how quiet I was trying to keep things, and-"
"Vincent, you knew right from the very start how well I do when it comes to creeping around, especially compared to you. Holding me to your standard isn't going to work, and waiting around patiently for me to duplicate what you're able to do is something we don't have time for right now."
"You could at least try to keep quiet while we're doing this, make some sort of attempt to-"
"Vince . . . shut up a second. This isn't a burglary. This is not your usual sort of thing at all, where you brilliantly sneak your way in, grab what you're after, and then disappear without a trace like some sort of ghost. People are going to hear about this. We're here to accomplish something very specific, something that will attract a lot of attention, and we don't have time for you to show off. I put aside my feelings about Connor for the sake of helping you with this, so could you perhaps drop this notion that you have to be the embodiment of stealth at all times? This particular situation doesn't require it."
"Well, still, I'd still prefer it if we didn't wake up half the keep!"
"If people wake up, or if we attract the attention of some guards, we'll deal with it. You figure you needed me in order to pull this off, and I'm not the quietest guy in the world - it's as simple as that. Now, which way?"
Though I was gritting my teeth, I began to realize that I was perhaps overreacting a bit. Not every situation required subtlety and stealth, after all, and we were under considerable pressure, time-wise. People likely did get up in the middle of the night to visit the kitchen, and would thus be used to noises like the ones that had been produced by my burly friend a few short moments ago.
"Okay, good point. We need to go down the hallway, left, then left again to the second set of stairs. It leads to the third-floor parlor, which I'm guessing won't be in use at this hour," I said in a whisper that wasn't quite as desperately quiet as before.
"And from there, if I remember correctly, it's a quick walk over to another set of stairs leading to the fourth floor, at which point we're pretty much there," Theo added, keeping his voice low, but not bothering to whisper. He gestured at the hallway before us. "After you."
I led the two of us down the well-lit hallway, forcing myself not to wince at the clomping of Theo's boots as we did so. Once at the end of it, I peeked around the corner to verify that nobody was in sight. Seeing no-one, I stepped around the corner and waved for Theo to do likewise.
Before long we'd traversed the length of the second hallway, had gone up the stairs, and were standing in the entrance to the darkened third-floor parlor. I gestured for Theo to stay where he was before cautiously entering the room.
There were some rather large paintings situated on the walls, though the dim light prevented me from making out what they were depicting, or otherwise determining if Lord Hartman possessed some measure of taste and culture. A skittle table dominated one side of the room, and there were several other game-related bits of furniture here and there, including what appeared to be a card table. Quite possibly this was where he did most of his entertaining.
I couldn't see anything that would indicate there was anything of value inside this particular room, but I inspected it for the usual traps anyways. The rug in the center looked fine, though I'd be sure to avoid stepping on it if I could. No mirrors or other suspicious glasswork mounted on the walls, not even by the card table, which probably meant that Hartman didn't need to resort to cheating when playing other Lords.
A naturally good liar, perhaps?
I filed that thought away as I continued my inspection, eventually coming to the conclusion that this room didn't have any special security associated with it, though the wear and tear of the floor did suggest this was a fairly high traffic area. I motioned for Theo to enter.
He began to do so, but stopped briefly and craned his neck as though listening for something. A second or so later he'd fully entered the room, had slid around a cabinet situated by the door, and was pressing his back against the wall while looking the slightest bit alarmed. He mouthed something at me that I couldn't quite make out.
Theo was attempting to be quiet. That made me a bit nervous.
Listening carefully for a moment, I realized I could hear the sound of boots from the hallway we'd just arrived from. A patrol, most likely - one or more of Hartman's knights, doing their rounds.
I immediately began to scope the room for an adequate hiding spot, but my brain was already telling me that there wasn't much available, aside from ducking underneath the skittle table. And even that spot would be laughably obvious if one of the knights had brought a lamp with them. There wasn't much hallway for them to travel before they got to this room, either, so chances are they'd be able to see inside the parlor in fairly short order. No place to hide . . .
But then again, maybe I didn't have to. Maybe Theo's approach was best in this particular situation. After all, time was of the essence.
Motioning for him to get ready, I flipped the hood of my cloak over my head, both obscuring my face and making it difficult for me to see anything. Then, standing in the middle of the room, I took a quick breath, relaxed my limbs as much as possible, and slouched in place.
Then, I began drunkenly singing a song about Merlin, the happy pig.
"I got no pants, no shoes on my feet-"
I could hear the footsteps down the hallway falter slightly, stop altogether, and then speed up in an effort to get to this room as quickly as possible.
"I love diggin' truffles, 'cuz they're fun to eat. Rollin' around in filth and muck, cuz at the end of the day, I don't give a- . . . oh," I said, adjusting my hood a bit so I could make out the two knights staring at me from the entrance to the parlor, their hands on their swords. "Hi. Say, what are you doing here?"
Neither knight seemed to know exactly what to say, and chose to stand where they were, fixing me with an expression that was a mix of wariness and skeptical confusion.
I hiccuped softly.
"Waitasecond . . . wha's the meaning of this? Hmm?" I slurred drunkenly, taking a couple of steps away from them. "Who are you? What are you doing in my home?"
The two exchanged perplexed looks, at which point I affected a drunken wobble and pretended to lose my balance a moment, taking another few reeling steps away from them. I righted myself, and gave the two of them a suspicious look.
"Stupid floor. Okay, what in the . . . hell . . . are you," I began, making a production of drunkenly counting fingers as I considered them, "four miscreants doing in my keep? Hey? Mmm? Guards! Yoo-hoo . . . hey, guards! C'mere a second! Some . . . whazzits are here in my keep, uninvited!" I fixed the lead knight with an accusing look. "Explain yourself!"
The one in the back appeared to be at a loss for words, and was content with just standing where he was, staring at me. The other, to his credit, actually took a few steps forward, though his expression strongly resembled that of his compatriot. Once he was a few feet away from me, he opened his mouth uncertainly, and spoke.
"Uhm," he managed, taking a moment to look about twice as confused as he had a mere second ago.
"What's the matter, sonny?" I slurred unsteadily, adjusting how my hood fell. "You've never seen a distraction before?"
Taking that is his cue, Theo leaped into action, quickly positioning himself behind the guard closest to him and whipping his arms around the fellow's neck. Though he was near-silent, his sudden movement somehow attracted the attention of the guard nearest me, who turned about to see what was going on.
At which point I attempted to do the same thing that Theo had.
Chokes and 'sleeper holds' are never a sure thing. Certainly, if you're provided with the perfect opportunity to sink one in, and if your execution is flawless, chances are good you'll end up bringing your target to his knees, slowly lowering him to the ground as he succumbs to the inevitable, at which point his ability to shout for help, raise an alarm, or otherwise complicate your plans is eliminated.
Of course, sometimes, you can forget certain things, like precisely where you're supposed to put your left forearm, and miss the choke completely. More often than not, this leaves you in a miserable sort of position.
The guard's hands grasped my arm and pulled it away from his neck. That accomplished, he doubled over and yanked downward for all he was worth, lifting me off my feet. Realizing I was being thrown to the ground, and would likely land rather painfully on my shoulder and back, my limbs decided to override the commands I had been giving them, and instead braced for sudden impact with the solid-seeming stone floor I'd been standing upon a moment ago.
Having been thrown in this manner before, I put every ounce of effort into my leg muscles, willing my feet to sharply connect with the floor roughly about the same time as the rest of me. The theory behind the move is that if your feet connect with the floor just before the rest of you does, the rest of you ends up hurting a lot less.
The move was partially successful - when my back and shoulders connected with the cold stone floor, it was merely really, really painful, rather than completely debilitating.
I realized my hood had fallen away from my face
My opponent was still hunched over and looking down at his handiwork, so I pulled my feet into my chest and delivered an upward kick with both heels. He managed to partially block it, but uttered something like 'Gaaff!' as he did so, and promptly stumbled backwards.
Rolling to one side in order to right myself, I allowed my right hand to reach into my side vest pocket and pull out a nondescript rag before springing out of my crouch and leaping forward my quarry. His own right hand was reaching for his short-sword, I noticed.
My left hand reached out to secure the wrist of his sword-arm, while my right hand shoved the cloth directly at the fellow's face, clamping it in place over his mouth and nose. Once that had been accomplished, I threw everything I had into keeping the cacaothane-soaked rag pressed up against my opponent's face, as well as using my other hand to keep him from fully drawing his sword.
He pushed himself up into a sitting position with his free hand, then attempted to transition into a crouch, still attempting to pull his half-drawn sword completely free from its scabbard. I could sense him gaining a leverage advantage, and realized I'd soon be put on my back.
Letting go of my chemical-soaked rag, I lowered myself before ramming my left shoulder into his midsection, right about the height of his sword hand. I could hear the soft 'snick' of his sword becoming fully sheathed. Then I shifted how I was crouching and shoved upward with my right shoulder, catching him just under his jaw and knocking him backwards.
I managed to catch the rag just as it was about to hit the floor, jumped atop him, straddling his chest, and once more used it to cover the lower portion of his face.
Eyes wide, he threw his head violently to one side, then the other, like he was refusing to acknowledge the reality of his new situation. After a while his head movements became a little less urgent, lethargic. Finally, the head movements stopped altogether. Once I could feel his muscles relax completely, I removed the rag from his face.
Beads of perspiration had formed on my brow, and I noticed that I was now breathing heavily.
"Smooth," murmured Theo from somewhere behind me.
"Shut up," I panted, my voice still weakened from my recent encounter with the floor. I took a couple of cleansing deep breaths, then twisted around to look up at Theo. "He saw my face."
"Does that really matter at this point?"
"I suppose not." I coughed, and slowly made my way back to my feet. "Just saying, is all. I guess we don't need to worry about the patrol on this floor any longer."
"See? Now you're starting to catch on." Theo's face split into a grin. "Nothing wrong with this sort of approach - I've always said so."
"Well, I'll grant you that things are happening much faster than they would otherwise. Still, your approach doesn't take into account things like traps and alarms. Speaking of which, once we do get to the fourth floor, no stomping around blindly or other foolishness. Both his vault and his bedroom are up there, and those are typically the two most well-protected areas of any keep."
"Noted. And yes, I'll behave myself once we're up there." He made an impatient gesture at the knight I'd rendered unconscious. "C'mon, let's get about it, shall we?"
We trussed the two guards as best we could with their clothing as well as whatever else we could find around the room. Once that was taken care of, we exited the parlor, followed the long hallway down to the stairwell on the South side of the keep, and made our way upstairs to the fourth floor. Just to be on the safe side, I inspected the three topmost stairs for any signs of pressure plates or other surprises. Finding none, I waved for Theo to follow me up, and the two of us considered the wide, darkened hallway before us in silence.
I scanned the area for anything suspicious or trap-like, and then scanned it a second time. It was at that moment I realized something I hadn't considered up until that point - that this was the first time I'd ever worked in tandem with someone for something like this.
Sure, Theo and I routinely help each other out, but this was a different sort of thing entirely. Ordinarily during a break-in, I'll make decisions based on what I figure I'm able to handle. I've got a pretty good sense of things when it comes to traps and other related whatnot, and will sometimes do things others might find risky or foolhardy simply because I'm confident I can eke my way out of whatever I might get myself into. By accompanying me in this, he was essentially putting his life in my hands, trusting me to spot things he might not be able to see.
I scanned the hallway a third time.
"Alright," I whispered, "this area looks fine." I pointed to the carpet nearest the top of the stairs. "This is a fairly high traffic area, and it looks like people walk down this corridor all the time, so it's likely not trapped. Still, best if you stayed here for a bit while I go up ahead and find out for certain."
Theo nodded solemnly.
I wandered down the hallway a ways, inspecting the wood trim, furniture, paintings and other whatnot I encountered along the way. Once I was near the end of the hallway and had assured myself the hallway was clear, I waved for Theo to join me. He did so in fairly short order, and in complete silence.
"See?" I whispered once he was crouched beside me. "You can be quiet when you put your mind to it . . ."
"Of course I can, but sometimes that isn't the point. Say," he said, gesturing at an intricately patterned rug laying on the floor a few feet away from us, "does that look a bit familiar to you?"
"Yeah, it does. Don't step on it."
"Right."
The two of us edged our way around the rug and continued along the corridor until we arrived at a T-intersection. I knew that Hartman's vault was located down the right-hand passage, while his bedroom was to the left of us.
We both turned left and slowly crept towards the iron-bound wooden door at the end of the hall, my eyes ever alert for floor and wall traps. For a moment I thought there might be something trap-like hidden behind a sorry-looking painting located halfway down the hall, but after a thorough inspection I concluded there was nothing to worry about.
As it turned out, the entire hallway was free of traps of any sort, and the two of us soon found ourselves considering the heavy-looking door barring the entrance to Hartman's bedchamber.
I took out a small jeweled rod, a small glass cube, and a few other devices that I routinely employed when locating traps and alarms. I found a total of three alarms and one trap on the door itself, and recognized the telltale signs of a particularly noisy device located in the wall about a foot above the doorframe. I had to stand on Theo's shoulders just to reach that one, but after a few minutes effort I'd disabled it and hopped back down to the floor. The remaining three alarms were fairly standard, and took almost no time to disarm.
That's one of the little-known benefits to having the best security money can buy. I was better able to recognize most of the protective measures other Lords used, having likely employed something similar myself at one time or another.
So, alarms now disabled and useless, I focused my attention on the sole remaining trap, a nasty piece of work that appeared to resemble what a bear-trap did in terms of basic function. It was set into the side of the door itself, half-buried jaws gaping dangerously at me, and in a manner that seemed to suggest that touching either the door handle or the bolt lock was a rather bad idea for anyone attached to the notion of keeping their hands.
Briefly, I actually considered employing a non-lethal variant of that same sort of thing for my own keep. The idea of someone's arm being held firmly but safely in place by my vault door, just gamely standing there and waiting for someone to come by to release them from it, well, that had some hilariously awkward potential. I gave the thought a small chuckle.
"Something funny?" asked Theo.
"I'll tell you later," I said, eyeing both the trap and the locking mechanism critically.
This particular lock actually had a keyhole in the shape of an eight-pointed star, which probably meant that the lock had been crafted for a specific eight-pointed key. Each of the points would likely be made with a completely different material that was meant to occupy a specific position in the lock, so that even if someone managed to steal the key for the door, unless they knew the proper orientation they had a mere one-in-eight chance of getting it right. Which, of course, would likely result in their hand disappearing.
I frowned at the lock, then at the trap. Disabling the trap would go a long way towards easing my mind as I worked on the lock, but sometimes that was precisely the worst thing you could do. Some traps, especially visible ones, were only put in place as an invitation for you to disarm it, at which point something even worse happened. Maybe disarming this trap made the lock no longer work, or some such thing.
Of course, sometimes a trap is simply a trap.
"Problems, Vince?" Theo asked quietly.
"Just thinking a bit," I said, scratching my jaw as I continued my inspection. "Don't know if I should do the trap first, or leave it be. Also, I just remembered that I'm down two lockpicks from earlier."
"Hmm," he said, eyeing some wooden portion of the door speculatively. "Hartman's behind this door, right?"
"I would imagine so, yes. It's late at night, and this is his bedchamber, after all."
"Most of Hartman's knights are either out taking care of the fire you set, or are currently tied up and napping somewhere out of the way, right?"
"I believe so, yes."
"And you just need to get inside, right?"
"Right."
"Well, may I make a suggestion then?"
"Hmm?"
Theo took a few steps away from the door, and drew a slow, deep breath. "Would you be so kind as to back up from the door a ways?"
Just as my mouth opened to protest, Theo threw himself at the very center of the iron-bound wooden door, his shoulder connecting with a deafening crack. It seemed as though I could both hear and feel the splintering of wood, and observed that the door was no longer sitting properly in its frame. The trap around the door handle had been sprung as well, its metal teeth angrily clamping down on nothing at all.
The burly man scowled, took a few steps backward, and then shoulder-checked the door a second time. Slightly less splintering noises, but the door was now clearly ajar, and one of the three hinges that held it in place was clearly not happy with how things were going.
The third time he did it, he used the other shoulder and gave a great roar as he charged the thing, slamming into it and causing the door to burst open. Planks splintered further, and old metal hinges screamed in pain as they speedily carried the heavy wreckage of iron and wood directly into a wall inside the bedchamber, which produced a spectacularly loud crashing noise.
Lord Hartman, hair slightly disheveled, was sitting up in his bed and staring at me with unfeigned shock.
"See? Told you my way was faster." Theo turned his back on the room to look at me, hooking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate Hartman. "He's all yours . . . do what you gotta do. I'm going to hang back near the stairway for a while, make sure you're not interrupted."
"But what . . . I demand to know the meaning of this!" Hartman shouted, his voice cracking slightly after using the word 'demand'. He cleared his throat. "Knights! To my bedchamber at once! Intruders!"
Theo gave a gentle snort before unhurriedly turning and walking back down the hallway. I gave a light shrug, stepped back out into the hallway, removed a nearby oil lamp from its metal stand and headed back into Hartman's bedchamber.
I think there was something about our relaxed casualness that caused Hartman to become even more alarmed.
"Knights! To me at once!" he cried.
"Nobody can hear you, Hartman," I said, finally managing to find my voice. Theo's solution to the dilemma, while effective, had caught me completely off guard. Doing my best not to look as surprised as I found myself, I strode forward into the room and gently placed the oil lamp atop a nearby dresser. Once that was done, I reached into my sling-sack and pulling out my wineskin. "Yes, I'm dreadfully sorry to have to inform you of this, but it seems that most of your knights are indisposed at the moment."
He was very, very worried now, though he attempted to disguise that fact with arrogance and bluster.
"You want a war, Tucat? Hmm? Well, now you've got a war! When I'm done with you, there won't be enough left to spit on, do you understand me?"
I tossed the wineskin on a nearby dresser, opening my mouth to speak.
"What the hell is that?" Hartman demanded angrily, gesturing at his dresser, then to me, appearing to get more and more flummoxed by the second. "What are you even doing here? And what exactly are you hoping to accomplish? You think you can just march in to-"
"Shut up a second," I said, raising a warning finger in his direction. "You'll get your chance to talk soon . . . very soon. Trust me on that. For now, I want you to shut up, and I want you to listen. Carefully." Reaching under my tunic, I pulled out a small leather pouch that had been hanging around my neck, hurriedly loosened the drawstrings, reached in with two fingers and withdrew a rather cloudy, pinkie-sized crystal. Picking it up with my thumb and forefinger, I held the object up for him to see. "Know what this is?"
Looking halfway between terrified and utterly confused, he simply shook his head.
"I didn't either. It's called an E'fler- . . . no, wait. It's what's known as a Flori-teen-" I paused a moment and frowned at what I held. "The Alledesh call it a 'truth stone' in their language. Observe, a quick demonstration." I cleared my throat. "I have a pet salmon named Kyle."
The crystal pulsed to life, glowing softly.
"Tell a lie - any lie at all - and it lights up just like you saw there. Fascinating, right? I mean, how does it know, exactly?" I chuckled, then allowed my expression to settle into a much more serious one. "Lord Hartman, you've been identified as the man responsible for murdering my family.
Hartman's mouth fell open, and his eyes fell on the crystal I held.
"Don't bother denying it," I said, just as he was about to protest. "There's no point. I don't want you to do anything but sit there and listen quietly, because I brought this handy little item with me tonight for a very, very specific reason." I took two steps forward, still brandishing the crystal, my sudden movement causing him to involuntarily shrink back from me. "You see, I'm about to tell you what sort of stuff will be happening here in your bedchamber in a very short while, Lord Hartman . . . and I very much wish for you to believe the things I'm saying."
At which point I began telling him what would be happening that night. In great detail. To start with, I mentioned how much blood there would be.
After a while he stopped trying to interrupt me and just sat there, listening, his eyes getting wider and wider as I spoke matter-of-factly about all the things I planned on doing that evening, and the order I planned to do them in. Occasionally he'd look troubled, his eyes flitting from me to the object I was holding, as though reminding himself to periodically verify the truth of my words from time to time.
He needn't have bothered checking, really. The crystal I was holding never even flickered.