Or maybe not. With a shiver, I realised one set was different. One set was definitely behind me. And it was definitely getting nearer.
That settled my decision.
I plummeted down the stairs, taking them three at a time. At the bottom was a small antechamber, with one low door to the right and another, larger and heavier, in front of me. There was a narrow, barred window set high in the door ahead. Through those bars, I could see darkness and the vague impression of distant walls. Close up, I could feel the faint breath of cool night air.
I'd found a way out.
There was only one problem. I knew there'd be a guard waiting on the other side.
There had to be. I'd been far too lucky getting this far. Luck always ran out eventually, and when it did, it generally went with a bang. I might have the element of surprise, but he'd be armed and armoured and infinitely better at fighting — not to mention capable of calling his many colleagues to his aid.
Above and behind me, the footsteps were drawing nearer. They must be in the second corridor by now. My bid for freedom was rapidly coming down to a choice of who got to catch me first. If I was quick, perhaps I could overpower the guard outside. I could put him down long enough to make a run for it at least. I might even get as far as the first gates. And then… and then…
One step. One step at a time.
Gently, hoping beyond hope that it wasn't locked, that its hinges were well oiled, I gripped the great ring that served as a door handle, twisted, pulled.
The hinges hardly complained; a whisper of metal on metal, like a breeze through dry grass. The door drew inward. A rectangle of purple velvet sky unfurled in the opening. I pressed against the wall, craned my neck to see through the slim gap.
There was no guard.
What there was, however, propped against the wall at the top of the short flight of stairs leading down to the courtyard, was a halberd that must surely belong to one. For reasons I couldn't quite explain, the sight of it sent a shudder through me. Perhaps he'd just gone to empty his bladder and would be back at any instant? No, it wasn't that. Something about the incongruity of it there, something about the angle… I didn't know why, but it felt wrong.
I knew I should run, take the opportunity while I had it, but I couldn't. I ducked back inside.
The footsteps were close now — still soft, but near. Unless I was very much mistaken, they'd almost reached the landing above. That only left the smaller door. Hardly even thinking, hardly trying to be quiet, I wrenched it open and darted through.
My heart stopped dead. My breath turned to ice in my throat.
I'd found the missing guard. The guard who should have been outside. The guard who'd so carelessly left his halberd.
I wouldn't need to worry about him.
Whoever had killed him, though — they were another matter.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
My first instinct was to forget the guard's spread-eagled body and make a run for it, before the approaching footsteps could catch up.
I was already too late. They were on the stairs. I wondered, absurdly, if it would go more badly for me to be found over a dead guard's body with the crown of Altapasaeda in my rucksack. Or was it so absurd? There were more terrible fates in the world than a swift beheading.
I pressed myself against the wall, as though that would somehow hide me. The steps were quiet, cautious, but rapid nevertheless. None of those characteristics suggested their owner was meant to be here, any more than I was. Yet the fear sliding cold fingers around my throat told me they could just as well be an over-cautious guard — or someone worse.
After all, there was a corpse at my feet. Whoever had killed him might still be nearby. Whoever had killed him might be killing me next if I wasn't careful.
The muffled patter reached the last steps. My lungs clenched in my chest. The footsteps paused in the alcove. I could hear breathing — muted but laboured. I very much wanted to run, I didn't care where… but fear had nailed me in place. I could only stand and listen — to the whisper of a door beginning to ease open…
Fortunately, it wasn't the door in front of me. There came another brief tapping of footsteps. Then the noise was swallowed in silence, and presumably by the night outside.
The wash of relief made my head swim. I almost let out the breath I'd been holding.
Lucky for me I didn't.
Had I been breathing, had I not been mute with fear, I might never have heard the second tread. As it was, I recognised it immediately; the first set of feet I'd noticed upstairs. Just as before, their possessor moved with consummate skill. He — or she, or it — was close upon the heels of whoever had just passed by. They didn't hesitate at the door. Almost before I registered their presence, they too were gone.
I waited. I couldn't guess for how long, except that it seemed like an age. I had no idea what could be going on, or if it was over. What kind of prison was this, where disembodied steps roved the halls all through the night? I felt as if my nerves had been grated. Even by the standard of escape attempts, this was proving extraordinarily stressful.
When I could stand it no more, when I was certain as I could be that neither set of feet was returning and that my heart had stopped trying to wrestle its way out of my chest, I turned my attention back to the corpse at my feet.
It was impossibly convenient that this particular guard should have chosen this particular moment to get himself murdered. Could it be another part in the mystery Alvantes had hinted at? Yet that made no sense. I couldn't believe Alvantes would have gone along with the killing of a royal guardsman, not even to secure his own freedom. Anyway, unless he was capable of plotting and effecting a brutal prison escape whilst chained in a cell, there had to be another explanation.
If so, whatever it was it eluded me. Moreover, given my immediate circumstances, it hardly mattered. For careful inspection had revealed one useful fact. The corpse I stood over was about my height and build.
Not having a clue as to why he was dead needn't stop me from exploiting that fact. Whoever had taken his life had at least been good enough to do so in a fashion that left his uniform — loose trousers and shirt with a knee-length jacket and helmet of studded leather — unmarked by blood. His uniform wasn't so much as crumpled. It couldn't have been more convenient if he'd been left there for my benefit.
Following that logic, I tried to assure myself that stripping his clothes was the only sensible thing to do. Necessity and barely subdued terror helped, making me less squeamish than I might otherwise have been. Nevertheless, I couldn't help cringing every time my fingers brushed his cooling, lifeless flesh.
Left with only a loincloth, however, his corpse looked more pitiful than alarming. I comforted myself with the thought that my own remains would have looked even less dignified if he and his colleagues had had their way. Dead and practically naked he might be, but at least he still had his head.
I hurriedly undressed. My pack was just big enough to hold my clothing; bundled with my cloak, I wrapped it carefully around the crown and telescope. Then I pulled on the guard's trousers, shirt and long studded jacket. I strapped his sword at my waist and drew on the helmet, a cone of leather with flaps across the ears and a vicious spike protruding from the top, presumably for those exigencies when all that remained was to charge an enemy headfirst. After brief consideration, I decided to keep my own boots. If anyone was inspecting that closely, chances were I was already done for.
I looked down at myself. What I saw looked more like a skinny thief in stolen armour than a burly sentry out on his rounds.
I considered procrastinating a little longer; mightn't hiding the dead guard's body delay the discovery of his absence? But it had gone unnoticed so far, and once his desertion was noticed, I doubted anyone would wait for proof of foul play before sounding the alarm. No, I was ready as I was going to get, and every further delay was only stretching my already slim chances.