Chapter 3

Garrett paused for breath in the shadow. Although in good shape the wild run from detection by the Hammerites had tired him out, and his heavy clothes and equipment did not help matters. He was dressed in his normal cloak, with lighter clothes beneath, and his boots. His equipment was carried either in his quiver, the belt around his waist, or in the small pockets on his cloak and clothes. For this mission Basso had visited Garrett's house earlier, after tying him to the bed, and had collected his sword, blackjack and short-bow. He had also managed to get hold of a small stock of broadhead arrows, water arrows, and a single moss arrow. The arrows were tucked safely on the quiver at his back, whilst the sword and blackjack hung from his belt, and his bow was looped over his shoulder.

He looked up, and surveyed the street around him. He was still in OldBridge, but close to the Docks, and the buildings around him showed the characteristic large doors of warehouses. The structures were tall, mostly made of stone, with tile roofs and wooden dormers that protruded from them. Garrett sank into the shadow and pondered his next move. Sophia would almost certainly release details of Garrett's home to the City Guard once he and Basso didn't return, and the sudden appearance of the night-watchman would only reinforce the idea that Garrett had betrayed them. He couldn't go back home, not only because he didn't have the key, but the Hammerites could be out looking for Basso's accomplice, and anyone out on the streets at this hour would surely be dragged off to Cragscleft. The best strategy would probably be to lay low for the next few months, until the fuss had died down and the City Guard assumed that Garrett had disappeared from the scene.

He glanced around, and then casually moved out of the shadow. He turned north, and began to make his way further into OldBridge, where there was the best chance of finding a small place to lie low. He had no money, but the weapons in his quiver and on his belt were bound to fetch something. If he could sell them to a shopkeeper like Farkus he would get even more, but he knew few, and was not particularly keen to be seen by them. Some were probably in the pay of the wardens or the City Guard, and it would defeat the whole point of his selling them if he was recognised.

He made his way through the small backstreets of OldBridge, through small canyons of buildings that loomed up from a narrow street. He eventually came to a main thoroughfare, and was about to cross it when he saw a flash of colour. He glanced over at its source, and saw a gold coloured letter L on a green background of a banner. The L was stylised, decorated with delicate curves which looped around the letter. Garrett suddenly remembered the document he had found in Lord Tanner's secret room. Larnseng had mentioned that he had a house in OldBridge, and this must be it. Garrett nearly crossed over the road, but a sudden thought made him stop. He had suspected that Larnseng was behind the assassination attempt, nothing else could explain it. He had rejected Ramirez's offers of employment, but that was no reason for this measure of violence. Larnseng must have been told by Lord Tanner of the break-in, and then later finding the document missing. It obviously had more value that Garrett thought.

He glanced thoughtfully at the banner, and the large gatehouse from which it was hung. He had no money, and it was risky trying to sell his weapons to whoever gave him shelter. However, if he broke into Larnseng's mansion then he could get enough loot sustain him, and also find out what the crime warden was up to. The idea had merit. Garrett was not tired, and still fully awake. Dawn was still far away, and most of the household would most likely be asleep, with only minimum security.

He made up his mind, and quickly walked to the shadows next to the gatehouse. The structure was typical of the architecture found in this district, a tall ornate building with crenelations at the top, and a mass of arrow slits in the walls. The gate was down, but on the battlements there was a wooden shelter that would provide an excellent hold for Garrett's one remaining rope arrow. He snuck underneath it, listening for sounds of movement. None came. He reached back and pulled the arrow onto his quiver, then nocked it into the bowstring, which he then drew back. He sighted the bow, and then gently released it. The arrow sped off, and impacted into the side of the shelter with a loud thump. He looked around anxiously, but nothing stirred. The rope that gave the arrow its name uncoiled and hung down to the ground. Garrett walked over to it, and cautiously gave it a tug. It held. He jumped onto it, and quickly ascended it until he had reached the top. He pulled himself up ono the roof of the shelter, and turned round and gently drew the arrow from the wood. No sense in leaving it there for someone to see. He then turned to look at the house. It had been originally built in the style of the gatehouse, the vast fortress style that had characterised the early districts, as if they still feared attack from the beasts in the darkness, or rival cities. It was large, with sheer sides that had small windows inset in the rough stonework. At the top were several guard towers, while at the base the door to the house was flanked by two more. Round the back of the keep was a newer building, made of brick and ornate stone that contrasted with the crudeness of the older structure. The new extension was smaller, but built in the modern style now fashionable, with large windows, exposed wooden beams, and ornate gargoyles. Unlike the other buildings of OldBridge the new structure had a steep roof, covered in the slippery tiles that gave it its red colour. Most of the buildings in the district, and that of the Old Quarter, had flat roofs, intended to serve as a guard position in times of conflict. By the time that the Barricades went up, to guard against the undead in that section of the City, the style was beginning to change, but OldBridge had not seen many renovations and most houses retained their flat roofs.

However, this was not what immediately drew Garrett's attention. He could see moving silhouettes of guards on the roof, and also the shadows of men in the gardens around the house as they passed in front of torches. The battlements appeared to be empty, but he could make out a set of steps that led up to those that the guards' patrol route appeared to be close to. By his estimation, he could make out two guards in the gardens and two on the roof. That could mean that there were at least ten guards in a mansion that size, maybe more. However, Garrett didn't want to loot the mansion, just the study where the letter, and Larnseng's safe, was most likely to be.

He silently slid down from the roof of the shelter, onto the battlements. He crept along the walkway, keeping low to avoid being silhouetted against the moonlit sky, and the glow of the street lamps. Reaching the stairs, he paused, allowing the guard to pass, then crept down them. His feet made no noise as he gently trod on the moss-covered steps. At the bottom he turned left, and slid behind a bush, to wait for the next guard to pass. He adopted a squatting position, his hand inside his cloak, ready to draw a weapon if necessary. He pricked his ears, and faintly heard the sound of the other guard, his footsteps inaudible on the soft grass of the garden lawn. Garrett held in his breath, and released it as a quiet sigh. He picked himself up, then ran across the lawn to the side of the house, his heart pounding, waiting to hear the astonished cry of a guard. However, none came, and he relaxed, melting into the shadows of the wall. He looked around, evaluating his next strategy. There was no way he could climb into the windows of the original keep, they were too small, but the new addition, with its large windows and exposed beams presented a better opportunity. Lights burned behind several of the large windows, but even as Garrett watched one of them went out.

Making up his mind, he quietly crept towards the structure, carefully ensuring to keep himself in shadow. Whenever a guard passed he would stop, and wait anxiously in shadow by the shrubbery until then soft sound of the footsteps had died. Eventually he reached the house, and slowly knelt below one of the windows, behind a bush. Cautiously he tried the handle of the window on the ground floor. It refused to budge. Clicking his tongue softly in dismay he cast his eye around for another window. Then, he saw the glint of metal coming from a place in the ground just in front of the window. He crept over it and stooped to look. Slowly, his mouth contracted into a smile. Concealed beneath the leaves was a trapdoor, its hinges and lock glinting in the torchlight from the window.

Garrett placed his hand on the handle, and gave a slight tug. The door refused to budge. It was not rusted shut, but locked, and he did not have the tools to attempt to open it. He sighed and sat back on his haunches, considering his next move. Suddenly, the window above him became ablaze, as someone walked into the room. Garrett dove out of the line of sight, but slipped, and ended up lying directly in the light of the window. He stayed deathly still, not even daring to breathe. He heard footsteps on the floor of the room, footsteps that became louder as their cause came closer to the window. The footsteps became louder, until finally they stopped, just by the window. There they paused, and Garrett waited fearfully as the silence grew, until suddenly there was the wonderful sound of the footsteps leaving, diminishing in volume as the person walked unhurriedly away.

Garrett relaxed, his heart trembling with fear and exultation. He sat up, and looked back to see what he had slipped on. It appeared to be a path of grass, but a closer examination revealed that it had slipped, and was revealing a patch of soil. He pulled on the grass, and was surprised to see it move, and reveal a small area of bare earth with a cloth-wrapped package in it. Curious, he took the package and opened it, then grinned delightedly. Within the oilskin there lay a key, the key to the trapdoor. He moved over to the trapdoor, inserted the key into the lock, and turned it. There was a sharp click, and the door sprung open on silent hinge. Garrett waited for any reaction, but there was none. He returned the key to its hiding place, then stepped through the doorway into the inky blackness. His feet found a ladder, and he climbed down, ending up in a dimly lit basement.

There was no sound but that of the rats. Inset in the walls were unlit torches, and above them the ceiling was stained black with soot. Scattered around the basement were rotten boxes and barrels, their sides black with rot and mould. There was a strange smell, not just of decay, but also of death. It seemed to impregnate every pore; even the walls seemed to emanate it. Garrett moved forward, each step with growing unease. In the next room, he found the source of the smell. Lying on a rack in the middle of the room was Lord Tanner, his face distorted in agony, his body still chained to the instrument. He was dressed in a night-shirt that was stained with blood and vomit. The rack was too, its metal surface red with dried and crusted blood.

The rest of the room was similarly horrific. Against the one wall was an iron maiden, against another a set of thumbscrews. Standing against the third was a garrotte. All were stained in blood. On the straw-covered stone floor were bones and bits of rotten flesh, while mounted on another wall were human heads, their faces frozen forever in agony. Garrett felt bile rising up. This must be Larnseng's torture chamber, where he 'dealt' with those who had displeased him. Although not given to remorse, Garrett felt slightly sorry that he had been the cause of Lord Tanner's death at the hands of Larnseng. However, business was business, and so Garrett began looking for a way into the house proper. He doubted that a private room such as this would have an obvious entrance, just in case a guard happened to walk in. It would most likely be somewhere private, somewhere guards would not enter often, or even at all. Garrett smiled. Such a place would be Larnseng's bedchamber.

He began a search around the room, looking for a way out and presumably up. Finally he came across a ladder, that stretched all of the way up to the roof of the house, or so it seemed. He placed one foot on the ladder, and started climbing ever upwards. Every so often he would have to pause, lest the guard patrolling on the other side of the wall hear him over the sound of the man's footsteps. The torture chamber was probably soundproofed, but the same could not be said about the space through which the ladder ran. Finally he reached the top, and a small platform. He hopped lightly onto the platform, and looked around. Behind him was a door, its hinges set into the stonework, and the actual door wood painted to look like stone. Cautiously he opened it, to find himself staring at the back of a richly decorated tapestry.

Garrett cautiously took his knife and made a small incision in the tapestry. He withdrew the knife, and put his eye to the hole in the fabric. Through it he saw that the tapestry hung in a fantastically ornate room, decorated even more richly than the master bedroom at Lord Tanner's mansion. The silver birchwood, inlaid with pearline and onyx, and the weirwood with copper embellishing and ink-and-glaze cracquadare varnish, had been expertly combined to create a stunning effect. The walls were covered with expensive fabric wallpaper in a light cream colour, and the occasional tapestry or painting also hung from the wall. A door in the wall on the left was wooden, and decorated with ornate patterns, as was the door opposite it. The floor was made of black and gold tile, the ceiling decorated with sculpted plaster and gold leaf, which formed intricate geometric patterns. From the ceiling hung torches of brass, with ornate carvings. None were lit, but instead light came from a candle by the bed. The furniture, made from the two woods, seemed like oasis's of beauty amid the desert of the floor, while the bed seemed like a huge mountain.

However, it was the contents of the bed that drew Garrett's attention. In it was a middle-aged man, thin and well-muscled. He snored loudly, the bedclothes that stretched up to his beard rising and falling with each breath. His beard was black, and well trimmed in the current style, his hair the same. It could only be Larnseng.

Garrett was about to lift the tapestry and slip out when he heard the muttering of a guard outside the room. He sat back and listened. The guard was moaning about his dinner, but in the few minutes that Garrett sat there the guard never moved. He seemed to be on a permanent station, and even as Garrett watched he opened the left door and looked in. Satisfied that there was no change, he withdrew his head.

Garrett considered the situation. He would never be able to make his way silently across the room to the right-hand door in the intervals between the guards checks, but the guard would also notice a carpet of moss on the floor. To creep across the floor would result in him being spotted by the light of the candle, or even against the light colour of the silver birchwood and of the wallpaper. A moss arrow would be easily seen against the distinctive colour of the floor.

He considered this for a moment, and then made his decision. Slowly, as the guard's head retreated once more, Garrett slipped out from behind the tapestry, water arrow at the ready, and let fly with it at the candle. The arrow disintegrated when it reached it, scattering water that doused the fire. There was a hiss, and also a faint sound of shattering glass. Garrett stepped back behind the tapestry and waited. The door opened again, and the guard put his head in. immediately, he noticed the candle, and looked around suspiciously. Garrett remained still as the guard's gaze swept over him. Finally the guard retreated, muttering to himself about the quality of the candles these days.

Garrett slipped out from behind the tapestry, and shot a moss arrow into the floor. It hit, and a carpet of moss slowly spread out from the point of impact to coat the floor in sound-deadening vegetation. He slowly made his way over the floor to the right door. Cautiously, he tried the handle. The door opened silently, and he slipped in to Larnseng's study. The room was relatively small, but the walls were lined with shelves of books, all of them but the far one, which had an enormous tapestry covering most of it. Against this wall was also a desk, covered with parchments. Garrett moved over to look at them. He picked one up and held it close to his eyes.

Warden Larnseng

I am delighted at your wish to acquire the 'Grimworth and de Perrin' antiques business that I currently control. I am aware of your taste for rare antiques, and can assure you that the business has connections that enable them to obtain the most precious of collectibles.

The business occupies several floors of the old Hammerite chapel in Dayport. There are 15 employees, with several more freelancers. The building possesses exceptional security, with thick metal doors, electric lights, and complicated locks to deter thieves. There also exists a large safe for the valuables of the business, which can only be opened remotely from a different room. The building is patrolled by my own toughboys, but regretfully you will have to supply your own if you do decide to purchase.

The typical annual income of the business is 26,000, and its annual expenditure is 20,000. The resultant profit is, as I am sure you are aware, very dear to me, and so I am only prepared to offer the business to you for 16,000, or several of your gambling dens in OldBridge. Please be assured that this is the lowest price I can offer, and that the business would be a marvellous acquisition for you.

Ramirez