Slowly, he pulled himself up to the next available grip and made his way diagonally toward the window of the governor’s office. There had been no light or sign of life in the room when he’d checked from the building opposite, so it was a good place to start. With a grunt and a last heave, he grasped the lintel and pulled himself up and inside, dropping lightly to the floor in a crouch and glancing around sharply.
There was no sound or movement; the office was dark and quiet. Standing, Samir examined the exits. The main door at the far end would lead to the main hallway, probably with a stairwell. That would be the way people entered the governor’s reception room, which this clearly was. Likely, though, the governor would have a second entrance so that he could move between his private apartments and this room without passing a more open, public space.
There were two doors leading off in addition to the main exit, one on each side. Closing his eyes, Samir summoned up a mental picture of the outer facade of the palace from the roof across the street. The two rooms to the left as one faced the wall had been busy during the daytime when he’d sneaked here to eavesdrop on Asima. That meant they were almost certainly administrative or business areas. He couldn’t remember seeing any movement in the rooms to the right, however. They had been empty and silent during the middle of the day.
Nodding with satisfaction, he stepped lightly across the office toward the door, stopping suddenly as he passed the heavy wooden table of dark, northern oak.
Papers scattered around amid ledgers and maps appeared to be random and messy, and Samir leaned heavily on the edge of the table and squinted, trying to make out as much as possible in the scant moonlight afforded by the window.
He smiled and rounded the table to the governor’s chair, where he grasped a particular unfinished letter and sat back, smiling, in the seat, holding up the missive to take maximum advantage of the low, silvery light.
To his majestic highness, Ashar Parishid, high King of Pelasia…
Samir’s smile intensified as he read on, through the governor’s carefully worded explanation of his actions regarding Asima; not quite an apology for turning her back to him, but close enough. It would appear from the letter that Asima was less popular even with the King of Pelasia than with the folk of the Empire. He grinned and cast his eyes across the table.
Reaching out, he grasped a stylus and concentrated as he hunched over the letter. He’d learned to read and write, but it required concentration if he wanted it to look good.
At the bottom of the half-finished letter, he finished a note with a flourish.
Do not send this.
The grin still on his face, Samir dropped the pen, scanned the desk and, finding nothing else that particularly attracted his attention, he left and returned to his original goaclass="underline" the side door.
As he approached, he leaned close and put his ear to the wood. This was an interior door of no great substance and there was no sound from the other side. Clenching his teeth, he slowly twisted the handle; the door remained steadfastly shut. Locked. He’d assumed for some reason that the main door to the office/reception room would be locked, but the separating interior doors would not be. Plainly this governor placed a high value on security.
Smiling, he crouched. Never let it be said that something as simple as a lock had got in the way of his plans.
His tongue working around his teeth as he concentrated, Samir withdrew a leather wallet from his belt, opened it, selected a specific narrow, metal prong with a curious tip, and began to work it slowly, gently, and quietly, in the lock.
After a few seconds there was a gentle click and he held his breath as he leaned back. Chances were that even someone awake in the room beyond hadn’t noticed the tiny noise, but this was no time to blunder. Silence reigned as he silently put the lockpick away and tucked away the wallet at his belt.
Slowly, he exhaled. So much would fail if he messed up and guards were called. He would be carted off to his doom without the opportunity to carry out his mission.
Slowly, wincing with each miniscule whinge of the mechanism, he turned the door handle and pushed gently. The door swung quietly open a few inches. Samir smiled. Somehow he’d known that the door wouldn’t squeak. The sort of man that locked his interconnecting doors was the sort of man that would keep them oiled and in good order.
Standing once again, he leaned closer and put his eye to the crack. The room beyond was some sort of sun room or lounge, filled with low tables and seats. Very comfortable; a more private meeting room, where the governor would socialise with friends or well-known dignitaries. Good. That meant he was in the man’s apartments now. Once more two other doors led off from here. One, at the far end of the room, opposite the window, must lead to a lobby, given the length of this room compared with that next door. That lobby, in turn, would have several doors and a main entrance from the stairwell. The other exit, opposite the one through which he’d entered, was likely the one he required.
Smiling, he strode across the room, quietly but quickly, and grasped the handle of the other door. Turning it lightly, the portal gave easily. Of course… no need to lock the door between private lounge and private bedchamber.
The interior was dark as the deepest cave, the windows closed in with shutters and drapes to keep out the bright moon and star light. Samir quickly nipped around the door and pushed it closed behind him. The dim light that he’d cast into the room when he opened the door would shine out like a beacon to anyone awake in here.
Holding his breath again, he stood just inside the door in the darkness and waited. Slowly, his eyes adjusted a little while he listened for a challenge that never came. Very gently, he could hear the deep breaths of the governor, asleep in what must be a large bed at the room’s far side. Samir concentrated for a moment, trying to identify more than one breathing pattern; after all, the governor may well be married. Nothing, though. Just the one.
Smiling, Samir padded silently across to a shelf on the wall where an oil lamp stood with flint and steel. For a moment, he considered lighting that, but it would take too long and be noisy and trying. Shrugging, he walked on past the shelf until he reached the large windows. Slowly, and quietly, he drew back the drapes. Tiny dots and points of silver light picked their way through the cracks and joints in the shutters. Taking a deep breath, Samir threw open the shutters, admitting bright moonlight and bathing the room in a silvery glow.
He turned to address the governor, hoping the light had at least woken him.
Samir was astonished, though he kept his composure and hid his surprise well, to see the governor sitting up calmly in his bed, a small hand bow aimed at him. It was one of the torsion-based personal weapons that Pelasian assassins used; deadly and accurate. Samir smiled.
“Excellency… you are apparently a remarkable man.”
“As are you, captain Samir.”
The pirate stretched, silhouetted against the window and presenting a clear target for the governor’s weapon.
“May I ask why you have not simply shot me or called for the guards, Excellency?”
The governor shrugged.
“I have the upper hand, captain. Moreover, had you the intention to do me harm, you would hardly have sneaked around the room and opened the window first.”
“I could be wanting to intimidate and torture you, first?”
The governor, a serious looking man, shook his head, his aim remaining steadfast.
“Hardly your reputation, captain. Now what can I do for you?”
Samir smiled and strode across to sink into a seat opposite the bed, lit by the white square from the window.