She moved from door to door, first listening, then opening them to see what was inside, all the while keeping an eye out for any patrolling guards. The final door before she reached the top of the main staircase was locked. She furrowed her brow as she focussed on crafting a more complicated, powerful piece of magic. She struggled to ignore her sense of satisfaction and maintain her concentration when she heard the lock’s tumblers turn and click into place. Opening the door, Ysabeau smiled—this was the room she was looking for. Lined with bookshelves, with an ornate wooden desk dominating the room’s centre, it looked every inch the grand burgess’s office. She stepped in and closed the door behind her. As she moved deeper into the room, several expensive magelamps illuminated, filling the space with warm light.
When she was tasked with the job, her initial thought was that the grand burgess had probably destroyed the ledger, but the duke’s informants had indicated there were still monies outstanding from the deal the book documented. The grand burgess needed to keep the ledger to ensure he was paid what he was owed, so greed would prove to be his making and his undoing.
She made a quick circuit of the office, careful not to disturb anything or make any noise. There was nothing obvious to lead her to her goal, but then again, there never was. Ysabeau expected that a document as important, and potentially damning, as the ledger would be in a safe, or perhaps a hidden compartment.
A touch of magic showed her what she could not see with her eyes—the Fount lined the surfaces of the room’s interior spaces, revealing one large enough to contain a safe. She opened the darkly stained oak panel to expose a thick-walled, metal safe concealed within. She took a deep breath and relaxed. She was already feeling the side effects of opening the door lock, and this would be more complicated and more draining. The more energy she used now, the less she would be able to draw on for emergencies during her escape.
Completing the process, she turned the safe’s handle and opened the door. The hinges were well greased, moving without a sound. Inside were the things she expected to find: small ingots of gold; leather purses containing coin; some items of jewellery, which she pocketed; and a stack of papers and notebooks. She pulled them out, and started to go through them. While she was being paid only for the ledger, Ysabeau wasn’t averse to making a little extra coin, so she kept her eyes open for anything else that might have value.
Ysabeau worked as quickly as she could; she wasn’t fool enough to think Whitly would allow his house to fill with strangers while leaving his belongings—especially such dangerous ones—unprotected. They might have been invisible amongst the partygoers, many of whom were bannerets and military men, but she knew the burgess’s men were also present, watching. She was confident she had gotten this far unseen, but that didn’t mean trouble wasn’t nearby.
She flipped through the notebooks, scanning them for what she was looking for—anything that mentioned trade with Mirabaya. If she couldn’t find exact mention of the trades in question, she would take everything relevant and allow the duke to determine what was of most use. She made a pile of documents that seemed to have value, along with the ledgers that mentioned Mirabaya, then stuffed the rest back into the safe. It didn’t matter if Whitly soon discovered the theft—the duke would be contacting him with his blackmail offer as soon as the incriminating evidence was in his hands.
Recalling the dates in question, Ysabeau decided she wasn’t satisfied she had the right ledgers. Of course, any thief was always going to go straight for the safe. Where would a wily merchant like Whitly hide information that could ruin him? She reached out for the Fount, willing herself to see it again, studying how it covered the surfaces. She held it longer, juggling the need for concentration with surveying the shelves and cupboards for a void that might be a secret compartment.
There—a row of books that seemed to have an empty space behind them. If anything in here was likely to be booby-trapped, it was a secret compartment, so she inspected it further for any sign of danger, but could see nothing untoward. It seemed to be safe. She released the Fount, and found that the perfectly normal-looking spines of six leather-and-gilt books covered the open space. They were the six volumes of The Decline and Fall of the Saludorian Empire, a popular collection for those who wished to appear more clever and cultured than they actually were, but she thought it oddly fitting.
A little pressure on the spines, which were one solid façade, and, with a click, the panel swung open from one end. Inside was a single ledger, bound in black card and red cloth. She lifted it and leafed through, quickly confirming it was what she sought, then slipped it into the pouch that had been specially installed into her gown for this purpose.
“Don’t think you’re supposed to be in here, miss,” a man’s voice said.
Ysabeau froze on the spot. She hadn’t heard anyone come in. He was as quiet as she was.
“Haven’t you ever wanted to explore somewhere you shouldn’t be?” she said, turning to face him.
“Sure,” he said, in the strong accent of a northern Humberlander. “But I’ve always resisted the temptation to thieve.”
Tall and well-muscled, though slender, the guard—for such he had to be—leaned against the doorframe, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. It was a pose that was equally dashing and threatening. Ysabeau wondered if he knew the importance of what was in that room, or if he thought her to be little more than an opportunistic burglar.
“I’m going to need you to come with me, miss,” he said. “Don’t make a scene. I’m not above thrashing you if I have to.”
She smiled sweetly as she pulled a dagger from her skirts and launched it at him in one smooth move. Spying and thieving weren’t her only talents, and the dagger struck true, embedding itself up to the hilt in his throat. His eyes widened with shock and his hands reached for the offending weapon as he struggled to breathe. Ysabeau moved quickly, grabbing the dagger’s handle and pulling it across his throat and free. Blood splattered, but a sidestep kept her free of an incriminating splash.
She spun the dying man about, grabbed him under the armpits, and dragged him into the office. Gasping and spluttering, he clutched at his neck in hope of keeping the blood in. His weight increased as the fight went out of him. Once he was clear of the door, she dropped him to the floor and finished him with a stab to the heart.
After wiping her dagger clean on his britches, Ysabeau returned it to its hidden sheath, then made sure the ledger was still in the pouch. She eased the office door open and looked left and right—the hallway was empty. Ysabeau slipped out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her. The man she had killed was unlikely to be the only guard on duty, so she knew she couldn’t get complacent. She needed to get out of the house, and fast.
She had scouted several options, but using the front door like any ordinary guest was her preference—the longer she could maintain the illusion of normality, the better. She returned to the servants’ stairs, opened the door, and listened. Behind her, she could hear people coming up the main staircase, but the servants’ passages were quiet. She went in, but no sooner had she started down than she heard movement below her. It could be a servant, whom she could bluster past, or it could be another guard, who might have her at a disadvantage. Either way, it would raise the alarm.
Cursing at her lack of options, she went up. This was the only eventuality she had not planned for, and she had no idea where the stairwell would take her. Every moment she spent in the house brought her closer to the discovery of the dead man and the burglary, at which point life would become far more difficult.