"Another sacred artifact," Seregil noted grimly, examining the crowned dragon design painted on the shield. "Queen Lera's, no doubt. I wonder who they're grooming to carry it?"
"I thought she didn't have any heirs?"
"She had no daughters, but there are always plenty of nieces and cousins in these Skalan families."
Riffling through the chests and cabinets, they found a carefully organized collection of maps, correspondence, and documents.
"I'll be damned!" Seregil spread a huge, yellowed parchment on the table. "Plans of the Rhнminee sewers. And see here, next to the draftsman's mark?"
Alec recognized the tiny image of a coiled lizard. "Kassarie's family must have built the sewers."
"Parts of them, anyway. It was a huge undertaking. Imagine what this would be worth to enemy sappers!"
Resuming their search, they soon turned up enough damning correspondence to bring nobles of a dozen houses to Traitor's Hill.
Opening a chest, Alec reached to push aside a rumpled swath of wool. Beneath it his fingers encountered cold, rounded metal.
"Seregil, look what I found!" At the bottom of the chest gleamed eight gold baps still bearing the Queen's Treasury mark.
"The White Hart gold! Our lady's been busy, though. These are shipped in lots of twenty-four. I tell you, Alec, if Kassarie isn't the head of the Lerans herself, then she's in it up to her ears!"
The gold was too heavy to carry away, so Seregil selected a few of the more incriminating letters and divided them with Alec. Turning to the corpse again, he gently removed the rings from the withered fingers, murmuring something in Aurлnfaie as he did so.
He handed Alec the silver ring, and strung the seal around his own neck on a bit of string.
"We're Watchers on this job, and this is Watcher business," he said with uncommon earnestness. "If anything happens to one of us, the other goes on, no matter what. We've got to get at least one of these to Nysander. Do you understand?"
Alec slipped the ring onto his thumb with a grudging nod.
"Good. If we get separated, meet me at the tree we camped under."
"The last time you carried something that way it got us into an awful mess!" Alec noted wryly, touching the seal ring where it hung against his friend's breast.
Seregil dropped the ring down the front of his tunic with a grim smile. " I'm not the one this will harm."
Putting the room back in order, they hurried back up to the open top of the tower. Seregil studied the sky with relief; the job had taken far longer than he'd anticipated, but it looked like they still had a little time to spare. As they came out from behind the tapestry into the corridor, however, some instinctive alarm went off in the back of his mind.
Something was different.
He grasped the hilt of his sword, belly tightening coldly again.
The light. Someone had turned up the wick on the night lamp.
Alec had spotted it, too, and was reaching for his own weapon.
They crept up to the intersection of the two corridors, bare feet silent on the smooth floors. The hallways appeared deserted. Bearing right, they headed back toward the northeast tower. They'd nearly reached it when the door swung open and two men with swords stepped out.
There was no time to take cover. Not knowing how many more men might be behind the others, Seregil and Alec turned and bolted back the way they'd come.
"There he is!" a man yelled behind them. "And he's got another with him! Here! He's up here!"
At the juncture of the corridors they cut to the right and made a dash for the northwest tower. More shouts rang out behind them as they flung open the door and plunged inside.
"Go on, I'll follow!" Seregil ordered, and was relieved when Alec didn't stop to argue.
A sizable pack of armed men was coming on at a run.
Grabbing the wooden bar from the corner by the door, he slammed the door and rammed the bar into its brackets. A heavy body hit the door from the other side, then another. Muffled curses followed him as he fled down after Alec.
He caught up with him just below the second-floor entrance to the tower. Rounding a corner, however, they saw torchlight coming from below.
"Second floor!" hissed Seregil, scrambling back up the stairs.
Footsteps pounded toward them from above and below as they reached the door. There was no time for caution.
Swords at the ready, they threw it open and dashed out into the large chamber beyond. Its sole occupant was an old woman with a lamp.
At the sight of them, she dropped her light and ran off through the workshop beyond, shrieking for help at the top of her creaky voice. Ignoring the flames spreading out from the broken lamp, Seregil barred the door.
"This must be where all that snoring was coming from," said Alec, looking around unhappily.
It was a barracks and there were more empty beds than Seregil wanted to count.
"Everybody's awake now," he noted grimly, heading for the southwest tower. "Come on, let's try this one."
"Up or down?" Alec demanded as they ducked in and barred the door.
But rounding the third turn, they ran headlong into another gang of Kassarie's men.
Having the higher ground saved them. Alec and Seregil struck out with their swords before their attackers could get their weapons up. Two men fell, their bodies blocking the stairs long enough for them to retreat. Another man came at them from above, swinging a short club. In the lead, Alec ducked the blow and thrust his sword between the man's ankles.
Seregil got in a good jab as the unfortunate man tumbled forward, then heaved the body on down the stairs.
Someone was trying to batter down the second-floor door as they passed. Dashing on, they found themselves back on the third floor.
Alec set the bar across the door, then doubled over panting. "Where now?"
"Let me think!" Seregil wiped his brow with one tattered sleeve. They'd been up and down how many towers? And how many doors had he blocked? No matter, really; by now all of them would be guarded.
Just ahead of them a corridor door flew open and they found themselves faced with four more men.
Falling on the newcomers, Seregil managed to strike down one before the man could draw his sword.
The rest put up a savage fight but were no match for their attackers. Seregil ran a second man through, then turned in time to see another stab Alec in the left arm. The boy recovered in an instant and seized the advantage, cutting his attacker across the thigh. The man fell back with a cry and Seregil dispatched him. In the melee, the fourth man took to his heels and escaped down the corridor.
"Let him go," Seregil ordered as Alec started off in pursuit. "You're wounded. How bad is it?"
Alec flexed his bloodied arm. "Just a nick."
Angry shouts interrupted them as a gang of men dashed into view beneath the night lamp. "Here. They're back here!"
"This way!" Seregil bolted through the open doorway the four men had appeared from.
Beyond lay a small storage chamber, and on the far side of it another door stood open. Charging on, they raced up a narrow stairway, threw open the trap door at the top, and came out on the flat roof of the keep.
"We're cornered!" cried Alec, looking around.
A quick circuit of the ramparts proved him right. There was no other way down; looking over the low parapets, they found impossible drops on every side. Behind them, Kassarie's men were already clambering up through the trap door with torches, swords, and clubs.
"We make our stand here," Seregil growled, retreating to the southern rampart.
Back to back, swords at the ready, they stood fast as the grinning mob advanced to form a menacing half circle around them.