Page 30 of The Faceless Mage

She’d had to take her rope to prevent it being discovered, so she couldn’t go back up the way she’d come. She also couldn’t go back in the main door of her suite—too many chances to be discovered, and the Raven no doubt knew his way around far better than she did. All he would have to do is go back and wait for her to show up.

No, her best chance would be from above, which meant she needed to go up—to the third floor, directly above her room.

She could do that. Probably.

If nothing else, there was no time like the present for learning the layout of the castle. Or at least, so Leisa told herself as she sped down the hall she’d come from, around a corner, past startled maids, and into the dark, narrow confines of a servants’ stair. Up one flight, then two, thighs burning, three, four, and then stop by the door. Peer out.

Lamps burned, but dimly. She heard running footsteps and pulled the door nearly closed just in time as a guard ran past—searching for her, most likely.

After listening for another few seconds, she ducked out and headed in what she hoped was the opposite direction from the one she’d traveled around the outside of the castle. When she’d gone far enough, she began looking for a likely candidate, and found it, about three doors down—a room with no lock and no light under the door. Taking care to silence her steps, she crept in and nearly jumped back out again when she was confronted with a sea of white-shrouded shapes.

Not ghosts, she told herself firmly.

She’d entered a music room, and under each shroud was an instrument—harps, claviers, viols, and lutes, for the most part. It seemed a veritable noise-trap for the fumble-footed, but there was enough moonlight for Leisa to pick her way through the silent assembly to the window. There, she was relieved to discover she had not been far off.

Only a short distance to the left, she could see the section of the wall that paralleled her room. Two doors down, most likely, would give her a straight drop. Thank divinity for architects who insisted on aligning all the windows, or her job would be a great deal more difficult.

A sudden noise from the hall outside sent her to the floor, listening for the tramp of approaching footsteps.

“There’s no way he made it up this far this fast,” she heard someone say.

He? Leisa really hadn’t thought her leather vest wasthatconcealing, but at least it meant they hadn’t connected the intruder with Evaraine.

Their confusion was a relief, but it made her wonder why her bodyguard had shown up in the ballroom at all. Perhaps the Raven had simply left his post to pursue a more urgent matter and would return after the trespasser had been dealt with.

“We’re just patrolling until they give the word that he’s been found. Raven is on the hunt, so he can probably smell out wherever the fool is hiding.”

Smell? Leisa shivered and tried not to wonder whether it was true. Because honestly, she had no idea whether she smelled the same when she was Leisa as she did when she was Evaraine. They’d never tested it, though, in hindsight, they should have.

But it was probably just a figure of speech. The Raven was only a man, and there was no way he could smell her at all.

Still, she didn’t waste any time after the patrol’s footsteps died away, but darted out to investigate the door she needed.

Just her luck, it was locked. Didn’t have time, didn’t have time… Her lock picking skills were rusty, but she managed this one in about twelve seconds. Fear was a particularly effective motivator, she thought with a grin, as she whipped inside, shut the door, and dropped to a crouch, barely daring to breathe.

She was in someone’s bedroom.

Someone who apparently didn’t merit an invitation to the reception below—or who simply didn’t care to attend—because he was fast asleep in his un-curtained bed. Either he was a sound sleeper, or this entire endeavor was about to come falling down around her ears.

Dropping to the floor, Leisa used her elbows to pull her across the carpet. Not as plush as the one in her suite, she noted, wondering whether the less welcome guests were assigned to the third floor.

A quick snort and a smack from the bed froze her in the act of removing the rope from her vest, but the man seemed to settle again into the long, steady breaths of sleep.

A quick loop around the bedpost secured the rope, then Leisa slithered to the window. Thank all the gods for Garimore’s wealth, she decided, because their windows were in excellent shape. It swung open without a creak, so she scrambled into her makeshift harness, then looked out. Still no movement. Why were there no patrols? Where was the overly paranoid Garimoran security? Or was that simply a boast on Melger’s part that he had no idea how to follow through on?

All the better for her. With one last glance at the sleeper, she stepped out, let the rope take her weight, and began the descent to her—thankfully—still open window. Without looking down. She didn’t want to know how far away the ground was this time.

There were still no lights burning in her room, so it seemed as though her absence had not yet been discovered. Only a few more feet and she would be safe. Mostly.

A light breeze stirred the edges of Leisa’s hood, jerking her gaze to the open window above her. For a moment, the window hesitated, and then, unmistakably, moved with the wind.

She moved faster—down, then in through the window feet first. The moment her feet hit the floor, she dropped as silently as she could, which wasn’t all that silently. The thud made her wince, but she was too busy shedding her harness and pulling at one end to free it from the bedpost upstairs.

Hand over hand, she reeled it in until a fresh gust of wind rushed along the side of the castle, and one of the window panes upstairs swung shut with a loud, hearty crash.

Leisa heard swearing.

Praying the man wasn’t yet awake enough to know what he was seeing, she pulled harder, and was rewarded by the sudden drop of the second end out the window.

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