There was no alternative at ground level unless he wanted to knock out a wall; he had not the time to burrow his way out. That left one direction-up. He swung open the broad door of Koros' stall until it stood out perpendicular to its closed position; it projected out from beneath the roof of the stable. He tested its strength; although it was not as solid as he might have desired, it was adequate. Using the door as a steppingstone, he vaulted upward so that his head, arms, and chest were above the level of the roof's edge; he caught himself, then crawled upward until his full weight rested on the wet red tiles.
He was very pleased to note that he had made the ascent with a minimum of clatter; the lack of his scabbarded sword was an advantage in that respect. He drew himself carefully upright, being sure not to put his full weight upon any part of the roof until he had tested it sufficiently, then surveyed his position.
The roof he was standing on was about ten feet wide and fifty long, sloping toward the stableyard; on the far side of, the yard was another virtually identical to it, and the two were connected at either end by a narrow wall, which looked wide and strong enough to walk on if it became necessary-but not if it remained unnecessary. Beyond the other roof was the wall of the upper story or stories of the Inn of the Seven Stars; along the upper edge of the roof he stood on was a blank wall of gray stone, extending upward at least twenty feet. He wondered what it was; he had not noticed from the street what building occupied that position, and the featureless expanse gave no clue. There was no exit in that direction. The wall was too high to leap, and he was not a very good climber.
On the opposite side, the stone wall of the inn was spotted with windows, half a dozen of them, but all, he was happy to see, shuttered; there was no danger of being noticed by the occupants of those rooms, and having his presence on the roof questioned. That wall was lower; the windows were all in a single tier, and he judged the distance between the roof of the stable and the roof of the inn to be no more than a dozen feet, probably less. The inn's roof was constructed of the same tile as that on which he stood, but was much, much steeper, and there were at least two skylights visible between the chimneypots. There was no exit by that route, either. At the one end, beyond the wall, lay the open street. That left only one direction unexplored; he could not see what lay beyond the blank wall at the stable's inner end. Though the upper stories of other buildings were visible beyond, there was a definite gap immediately behind that wall.
He made his way carefully along the sloping surface, trying to avoid dislodging any of the battered tiles, until he stood within a pace of the edge. He peered over and found himself looking into a small enclosed yard, strewn with garbage and half-flooded by the morning's rain. An unpleasant odor drifted faintly to his slit nostrils.
The far side of the yard was filled by a simple twostory structure, apparently an ordinary house; on either hand walls five or six feet high separated it from similar patches of earth, though due to the angle of his vision he could not see much of either, despite the height of his perch. The left-hand yard was, as far as he could see, cleaner than the central one; of the right-hand yard he could not even see that much.
He paused to consider, and glanced back at the stableyard; from his elevated position he could see that the abandoned trough where he had burned his cloak now held an inch or so of murky rainwater, black with the ashes of his garment.
There was no reason to bother crossing over to the right-hand yard; of the other two, both were accessible from the roof he was on. The central yard spanned the stable yard and perhaps half of each of the roofed-over stables; the left-hand yard extended across the remaining four or five feet.
The left-hand yard would be a longer drop, being below the higher portion of the roof; therefore, he made his way to the bottom corner, where the gray stone of the wall extended out from beneath the red tiles, lowered himself over the outer edge, and let
himself drop.
He landed with a splash, and immediately felt water seeping into his right boot through the puncture made by the obsidian in the forecourt of Sai's temple; it was cold and sluggish, probably made up of filthy mud as much as water. He wished he knew how to curse, as humans did; he tried muttering the names of a few gods but it provided no relief, and he growled instead.
It was hard to judge accurately the depth of the water, because his boots sank into the mud beneath the weight of his armored body; there was at least an inch, though.
He slogged across the little court, his boots thrusting aside decaying fruit peels and muck-coated old bones, and climbed onto a stone doorstep that rose above the water; he could feel the water draining slowly from his ruined boot, leaving a slimy residue and a wet lining.
The door was centered in the wall. There were two narrow windows on either side, all dark and curtained, but with their shutters open. That implied that there was someone somewhere within, but most likely not in these rearmost rooms. He tried the latch. It yielded, and he leaned on the door. It did not yield.
A wordless noise of annoyance burst from him. He leaned harder, letting his left foot fall back into the befouled water the better to brace himself.
The door still did not yield, and in a burst of anger Garth lifted his axe over his head and swung it at the recalcitrant barrier. Splinters flew. He struck again, and felt the blade slice through into the space beyond. The door was not unreasonably thick.
He pulled the axe free and let it dangle loosely in his right fist as he leaned to peer through the crack he had made.
The room beyond was dark, and he could see nothing. He stood back, and swung the axe again; the wood of the door gave, bursting inward, leaving two wide gaps. He slung the axe on his back once again and ripped out the broken wood between the two slits, giving him an opening wide enough to get his hand through. He reached in and, as he had expected, found that the door was barred; the bar lay only a few inches below the opening, and it was no great feat of dexterity to lift it free and let it drop to the floor inside.
It occurred to him that he was making a great deal of noise, yet so far no one had appeared to question him; luck was apparently with him. It did not occur to him that he might have made less noise going in through one of the windows. He worked the latch and pushed on the door again.
It still did not open. He pressed harder, and it bowed inward but remained closed. There were other bars; judging by the way the door bent, one near the top and one near the bottom.
His patience, which had been in very short supply since his embarrassing display of ineffectuality in the temple of Aghad, ran out, and with a roar he freed his axe again and swung it horizontally into the wood. Splinters sprayed, and a large chunk of one of the boards that made up the door snapped off and fell with a loud splash into the murky water. He struck again, with no thought or care as to the effects of his blow, and the blade wedged itself into the wood, scattering more shards. He ripped it free, bringing most of a plank with it, and let it hang from one hand again while the other reached through the greatly enlarged hole.
He could feel the upper bar, but his forearm was not long enough to allow him to dislodge it; he withdrew, then thrust the other hand in, and used the axe to knock the bar away. It fell with even more noise than the first. He felt for the third bar, and hooked it upward with the corner of his weapon; its fall could scarcely be heard. Then, still angry, and with his hand and axe still thrust within, he tried the latch again.
The door opened a few inches.
He withdrew his hand and slammed the door aside; its shaken frame gave way when it struck the wall behind it, and collapsed, twisting out of shape and leaving a disarrayed mass of tangled wood, rather than a door, hanging from the bent hinges.