Page 12 of The Orc's Thief
The roof of the barber shop is flatter than those of the surrounding houses. That makes it easier for me to roll onto, but it also doesn’t reach very high, which presents my next problem. The side façade of the building in front of me looms in the darkness, and when I look up, rain pelts my face, obscuring my vision.
I won’t need a push to die tonight. The weather and gravity will take care of it, I’m sure.
I swallow a growl of frustration and unpin my cloak. I’ll be soaked through by the time I make it up there, and I don’t need the weight of sodden wool dragging me down. I pull the coil of rope from the cloak’s inner pocket and tie one end around my waist. The other reason I chose this route to access the roof is the wrought-iron flower boxes decorating the windows. The flowers in the small troughs are mostly dead now, but those iron frames seem fastened into the stone itself. Not strong enough to support my full weight, maybe, but hopefully they’ll help break my fall if I lose my footing.
I loop the rope in my hands and secure a climbing clip to it. It’s similar to one of Torren’s, an invention he came up with long before we left the Stonefrost Clan lands to make the long trek to what would become our new kingdom. In the mountains, a contraption like this saved countless lives, even though the older generation, including King Trak, complained that we were growing soft because we wanted assurances that we wouldn’t plummet straight off a cliff.
Since our new clan set up a trade route to Ultrup a decade ago, the wares from our forge have made their way into human lands. It only took me three tries visiting the local blacksmiths to find one who’s been copying my friend’s designs and selling them as his own.
Now it’s time to see if I remember how to do this correctly. I reach for the first wooden beam jutting out between the stones and pull myself up. Every surface is slick with rain, and by the time I reach the first window, I’m grateful I made the effort to buy the clips. I fasten the first around the iron window box and tug on it. It doesn’t budge, which bodes well, but that doesn’t mean it would hold the force of my falling body.
Another few minutes leave me huffing in relief as I narrowly avoid slipping. My fingers ache from the strain, but I have the second clip in place. At the third window, I wish I’d writtena letter to my family before undertaking this incredibly stupid endeavor. But I’ve made it this far, so I can’t stop now.
Before I haul myself over the rafters and the edge of the roof, I pause to breathe. The thieves will surely have a lookout on the rooftops. If I flounder around like a fish out of water, they’ll notice me. Orcs are well-trained to hide in the forest, but I’ll be completely exposed up there. Even in the dark, there’s no hiding my bulk.
But there’s nothing for it. If I want to catch this crew in the act, I need to move. I secure the last clip and send a prayer to the gods and all my ancestors that this won’t be the last thing I do. Then I grip the edge of the roof and lift myself slowly, poking my head over first to see if the lookout is waiting for me.
I can’t see anyone. I’m still a couple of houses away from the Ravens’ mansion, but I’d have expected at least one member of the thieving crew to stand watch on this side of the street, ready to alert their companions if any of the carriages returned suddenly.
With as little noise as possible, I haul myself up and crawl forward, staying low to the rain-slick tiles. I untie the rope from around my waist and secure the end to the first gable I see. I’ll have to descend somehow, and I’m not about to free-climb in this weather. I edge up to the ridge of the first roof and peer over, squinting against the rain splashing in my face. Still nothing.
I slide over, careful not to dislodge any tiles. I have no idea if the people below are home, or if they use their attic at all. With this downpour, I hope my footsteps are muffled, but I still don’t want to raise any alarm. That’s a sure way to scare the thieves off.
I crest the second ridge without spotting anyone, and doubt creeps in. What if I imagined the shadow overhead? It’s raining hard. My eyes might’ve played tricks on me. The longer I think about it, the more certain I am that I’ve messed up—and badly.The thieves would wait for better weather, wouldn’t they? If I struggled with this climb, it would be even more dangerous for humans, no matter how agile.
A few more steps bring me to the edge of the Ravens’ mansion. The roof is solid and well-kept, and the tiles hold firm as I move forward, scanning for anyone who might be hiding. I check behind every chimney, every dormer window. Nothing.
My shoulders slump. I came all this way for nothing, and worse, if I get caught up here, I’ll have a hard time explaining what I’m doing. I might ruin whatever progress Major Strahl and his crew have made. The Ravens will be on high alert if they catch someone lurking atop their mansion.
“Damn it.”
I run a hand over my wet hair, brushing back the sticky strands. This is what I get for being impatient. If luck is on my side tonight, I’ll be able to keep this to myself. No witnesses means no one will know I fucked up this badly.
Keeping my arms out for balance, I turn back the way I came. I’ll climb down, erase any trace of my presence, and skulk back to the Heron for a hot bath and a bowl of stew if the kitchen hasn’t closed yet. The thought of finally getting warm and dry spurs me to quicken my steps.
My boot snags on something, and I pitch forward violently, then roll to the side, my instincts taking over. I’ve been tripped, and my body reacts on its own. I’m back on my feet a second later, arms raised in anticipation of an attack, a dagger already in hand. The tiles groan under me as I shift my weight, scanning the roof for an enemy, but I’m still alone up here.
“What the…?”
My heart thuds in my ears. I crouch again and run my hands over the tiles, trying to figure out what happened.
And there it is—a thin rope, pulled taut. In the darkness, it’s nearly invisible, even to my eyes. I follow it with my fingers.
One end is tied to a chimney I just passed. The other leads to the edge of the roof, but not the side that looks onto the street where I’d kept watch all evening. It’s hanging into the building’s inner courtyard. Just as I crawl closer to see where it leads, the rope goes slack, as if whatever weight it bore is no longer there.
Holding my breath, I lie flat, sliding as close to the edge as I dare, and peer over. There’s no sign of the thieves, but the rope dangles all the way down to a fourth-story window.
I have you now.
I pull myself back, regretting that I didn’t bring a second coil of rope. I could use the thieves’ own rope to follow them, but I don’t know if it’s strong enough to hold my weight.
They could be doing all sorts of nefarious things down there. Stealing, even killing the remaining members of Damen’s gang. I bite the inside of my cheek, debating with myself. If I climb down and run to the front door to raise the alarm, the thieves would surely hear the commotion and escape through the roof, just as they did once before, at the inn.
No. All I have to do is wait. They didn’t enter this mansion when it was full of people. Hopefully, this isn’t an assassination attempt but a robbery. They’ll come climbing up that rope sooner or later. It’s their only safe way out.
And when they do, I’ll be right here to catch them.
Chapter
