Lectain Zorkil opened the door slightly and squeezed into the room. He stood for a moment staring at Lord Marak’s blacksuit before speaking. “Everything is set,” he reported. “In fact, I discovered that someone else has been leaving the estate through devious means. There is a small gate in the side wall which had a cord attached to the latch. I have reassigned the men posted there for the next hour. No one will see you leave. How will you be returning?”
“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” admitted the Lord of Fardale. “Through the main gate should be sufficient. Give orders not to shoot at any single individual approaching the main gate. It would not do to have my own men kill me.”
Marak grabbed his field bag and headed for the door. Zorkil got there first and peered out to see if anyone was walking by. Quickly and quietly, the two men exited the mansion through a servants entrance and made their way to the small gate. The Lectain held the gate open as Lord Marak passed through and melded with the night.
Marak padded through the dark woods in a curving route, which took him well away from the areas where there might be Sorgan sentries. The unfamiliar terrain required extra care as Marak made his way into Watula Valley. He was not in a hurry and paused often to listen to the night sounds, always alert for the unmistakable sounds of humans. It took several hours just to get to the point where he could see the broad fields of watula waving gently in the night breeze. The Sorgan watula was higher than any grown in Fardale except for those fields, which the Kywara shaman had treated.
Marak crouched alongside the first field of watula and listened to the sound of a marching patrol. He had no idea what route the patrols would run and would have to depend on his stealth to get him to the mansion. Marak moved off in a crouching run along the border of the field and heard the patrol becoming more distant. He kept to the perimeter of the fields until he was on the side of the mansion opposite the Fardale border. If the Sorgan Army had a decent Marshal commanding it, these back fields would be patrolled as well, but Marak was hoping that the patrols would be few.
For another couple of hours, Marak worked his way towards the mansion, avoiding the roving patrols, which became more numerous as he got closer to the building. Lord Marak did notice that there were no patrols around the mansion itself. Instead, there were guards posted at each of the entrances. Marak crossed the small clearing between the last watula field and a small orchard, which adjoined the rear courtyard of the mansion. Once there, he silently scrambled up into an apple tree and settled in for the wait.
Marak observed the guards on the mansion and the movements in the rooms, which were still illuminated. He wondered how Lord Quavry accepted the fact that there was no Situ retaliation attack. He was probably furious that the Situ did not react as he expected. He wouldn’t be too happy over the loss of his cousin, either.
Movement around the mansion caught Marak’s eye as a patrol rounded the corner of the mansion. Discipline was well maintained as the patrol stopped at each guard location to replace the sentries with fresh guards. The guards, themselves, were less polished. Once the patrol was out of sight, some of them relaxed and leaned up against the mansion. Marak gave them another two hours to get bored with their duty before he slipped down out of the tree.
Marak estimated that he had about an hour before the sky started to lighten and knew it was time to visit Lord Quavry. Moving quietly, Marak made his way through the orchard to a corner of the mansion. The guards on each side were distant from this corner of the building and Marak blended well with the dark night. Marak chose the side with the more distant sentry and reached up to feel the first shutter. It was properly locked and the warrior silently cursed his luck. Reaching into a pouch, he extracted a long, thin piece of black metal and tried to work it in between the shutters. The shutters were a tight fit and it took several minutes for Marak to work the smooth metal into place. He froze as the metal made contact with the latch and produced an ear-splitting snick as the latch swung free. He glanced at the sentry and realized that the noise was only loud to himself. The sentry remained bored and unaware of the intrusion.
Watching the guard carefully, Marak swung the shutter open and pulled himself up into the waiting room. Quickly closing the shutters, he listened for any cries of alarm or shouts from the sentries. After a moment of silence, he breathed easier. Marak crossed the room and placed his ear to the door leading out into the rest of the mansion. When he didn’t hear anything, he cracked the door open and peered into the darkness. Nothing appeared to be moving inside the mansion and Marak exited the room and headed for the Lord’s suite.
As Marak approached a corner in the corridor, he heard someone coming and swiftly opened a door and ducked into a room. The layout of the mansion flashed through his head as he struggled to remember which room this was. A heavy snoring emanated from the sleeping chamber adjoining the room and he remembered it as the Seneschal’s suite. He listened to the door as the footsteps continued walking by. He counted silently to himself to estimate how long it would take for the person outside to reach the next corridor. For safety, he added a count of twenty to his estimate and cracked the door open.
Time was running out as Marak stepped into the corridor and closed the door to the Seneschal’s suite. Shortly, the entire mansion would get up and begin their day. Quietly, he made his way to Lord Quavry’s suite. Again pressing his ear to the door, he listened for noises indicating someone was awake. Satisfied that no one was walking around on the other side, Marak opened the door and walked in.
Chapter 13
Black Visitor
Lord Marak stood in the dark sitting room of Lord Quavry’s suite and saw the first lightening of the morning sky though the window shutters. Silently, he crossed the carpeted room and stood at the door to the Lord’s sleeping chamber. Quietly, he eased the door open and peered inside. Lord Quavry’s sleeping chamber was dark and Marak could see very little. The black clad warrior eased himself into the room and closed the door behind him. The scent of jasmine hung in the air and Marak could just make out the shapes of two lumps on the large bed.
Cautiously, Marak drew his double-edged sword from his back-mounted sheath and held it before himself as he eased towards the window. Still facing the bed, Marak reached behind himself and unlatched the shutters. Gently swinging the shutters open, he allowed the early morning light to splay across the room. Marak’s eyes focused on the rotund form of Lord Quavry lying next to a young woman. The woman’s brown hair fell across her face as she turned to face the window and her green eyes opened wide as she stared at the black clad visitor and his large sword.
Marak held a finger to his lips and then motioned for the woman to get out of the bed. Marak looked on the floor next to the bed and saw the woman’s clean brown tunic, indicative of a slave in Khadora. As the young woman slid her lithe body out from under the sheets, Marak lifted her tunic from the floor with the tip of his sword and held it out to her. She quickly snatched her tunic and drew it over her head without taking her eyes off of the dark invader. Marak pointed to the corner of the room and the young slave backed warily into it and lowered herself to the floor.
Once Marak was satisfied that she was safely out of the way, he extended the tip of his sword under the sheets of Lord Quavry’s bed and flicked the fine, white cloth onto the floor. Lord Quavry awoke with a start and Marak swiftly placed the point of his sword at the Sorgan Lord’s throat. Lord Quavry’s mouth opened and he uttered a gurgling sound while his enlarged eyes darted back and forth across the room.