Night grew along the watchtowers. Their ivory shade exchanged for a rosey dim. Soon the time would be near. It was cold, much colder here than her previous habitat. Breath came like freezing fog from her lips. Two Brothers had come with her summons. She could not do this alone. The three waited patiently for the black of sunless skies. It must be dark, for they must go unseen. On the rooftops of the Magisterial Offices they crouched low against the catwalk around the building. Intrepid in their silent vigil.
It was only a week ago, Ibrahim of Tor had returned the iconic dagger of Josephus the First of Firsts. It once again rested in its velvet nest in the libraries of the Black, safe. Now she was charged with finding its thief. Somewhere below her, in a locked desk the answer waited nestled amongst other prized documents.
Sundown came and went, leaving in its glory a wake of darkness. She felt overwhelming peace. The two men in her company signalled. Oman fitted a woven silk harness around her legs and waist with carabiner's and locked them into place. The larger of the Brothers, Basle, wrapped the rope under his thighs, and brought it round his forearm. He nodded his ready, and leant back some. She went over face first, gloved hands guiding a path between the windows. Four floors down from the top she halted, taking out a spike to pry at the window. Somewhere in time it had been painted shut, making it difficult but not impossible open. Its give was louder than she would have liked it, the crack of paint peeling apart making her wince. She peered into the darkened office room to be sure no one had heard and if they did, they were not on the way. The two came down after her, following her path against the smooth concrete. Both were larger, encumbered by muscle and weight making the task more difficult and less graceful.
Once inside Basle stood ready at the door, while Oman and the other Brother took to searching. Hours ticked by in quiet. They went through file after file until their eyes became dry. On the desk had been a guest list for the upcoming celebration. She noted most of the names, pausing at one in particular. A smile pressed her lips. Finally, in the false bottom of a drawer, the killers found what they had come for. One receipt for the sale of a jeweled dagger and a personal accounts journal of the Peacock, Arpaeus Bonnane. The latter she would take and stuff down the front of her shirt for safe keeping. Perhaps it would be enough to buy forgiveness. The receipt would be returned to her First.
" I am only a day away, Peacock, " she whispered to herself, " Are you ready for me?"
It was only a week ago, Ibrahim of Tor had returned the iconic dagger of Josephus the First of Firsts. It once again rested in its velvet nest in the libraries of the Black, safe. Now she was charged with finding its thief. Somewhere below her, in a locked desk the answer waited nestled amongst other prized documents.
Sundown came and went, leaving in its glory a wake of darkness. She felt overwhelming peace. The two men in her company signalled. Oman fitted a woven silk harness around her legs and waist with carabiner's and locked them into place. The larger of the Brothers, Basle, wrapped the rope under his thighs, and brought it round his forearm. He nodded his ready, and leant back some. She went over face first, gloved hands guiding a path between the windows. Four floors down from the top she halted, taking out a spike to pry at the window. Somewhere in time it had been painted shut, making it difficult but not impossible open. Its give was louder than she would have liked it, the crack of paint peeling apart making her wince. She peered into the darkened office room to be sure no one had heard and if they did, they were not on the way. The two came down after her, following her path against the smooth concrete. Both were larger, encumbered by muscle and weight making the task more difficult and less graceful.
Once inside Basle stood ready at the door, while Oman and the other Brother took to searching. Hours ticked by in quiet. They went through file after file until their eyes became dry. On the desk had been a guest list for the upcoming celebration. She noted most of the names, pausing at one in particular. A smile pressed her lips. Finally, in the false bottom of a drawer, the killers found what they had come for. One receipt for the sale of a jeweled dagger and a personal accounts journal of the Peacock, Arpaeus Bonnane. The latter she would take and stuff down the front of her shirt for safe keeping. Perhaps it would be enough to buy forgiveness. The receipt would be returned to her First.
" I am only a day away, Peacock, " she whispered to herself, " Are you ready for me?"
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