The rope uncoiled, but its end barely cleared the barbican's wall through a space between two rising ramparts. Chane huffed in irritation. Wynn didn't know why until he pulled on the rope, and it all came tumbling down. She realized that he was trying to loop one of the ramparts.
"Did you even think this through?" she whispered.
"I do not recall you offering a plan of your own."
She wasn't sure what angered her more—his half-witted scheme, or that she couldn't think of a better one.
Chane crouched against the wall and drew his sword. Before she could berate him again, he pulled off his cloak. He wrapped it around the blade and cinched the material tight by knotting the rope around the sword's midpoint. Wynn watched as Chane flung his muffled makeshift anchor, and then flinched at the dull thump somewhere above.
And that was all she heard.
Wynn straightened, looking off toward the rounding of the wall's southern corner. Shade had stopped barking.
Chane stood with the rope's end in hand and looked off the same way. "Is she in?" he whispered.
"I don't know. Maybe," she answered, and Chane scowled at her. "I think she needs a line of sight to… Oh, never mind, just hurry up!"
Chane pulled on the rope, and it drew taut this time.
Wynn crept along the barbican curve but didn't make it far enough to peer around. The soft clomp of boots on cobblestone carried along the street. She quickly sidled back along the wall, waved at Chane, and jabbed a finger back the other way.
Chane glanced once and couched low. He hooked a thumb in the air over his shoulder, pointing toward his own back. Wynn went wide-eyed and glanced up the wall.
Get on… now! he mouthed.
It was one thing to be caught breaking curfew. It was entirely another to be found breaking in by the city guard.
Wynn gave Chane a scathing look, but she climbed upon him, trying to grip his shoulder with her right hand. She placed her staff crosswise between her chest and his back, and then wrapped her arms around his neck. Chane lurched to his feet, hoisting her off the ground.
With one boot braced against the wall stones, he pulled hard on the rope.
Wynn lost track of footfalls on the road as Chane hauled both of them up the wall as quickly as if he were walking on flat ground. He stopped just before a space between two barbican ramparts and whispered, "Climb over."
Wynn pulled one arm from his neck and grabbed her staff. She slid it over the wall's top, and then felt Chane's hand cup under her left foot. That he managed to hold them both up with his one-handed grip surprised her. She quickly clambered over him through the rampart's space.
His cloak-wrapped sword was anchored across the opening, but when she turned back to help him, he was already up. He pushed her down, crouched beside her, and began hauling up the rope as fast as he could.
Wynn heard the footsteps again.
They came from right below in the street as the rope's trailing end flopped onto the barbican's platform. She and Chane remained still, waiting for the steps to pass by.
Then silence—the footfalls stopped altogether.
Wynn's stomach knotted.
It was far too long before the footfalls resumed, moving onward until they grew faint somewhere off toward the bailey wall's southern corner. Chane rose just enough to peer through the rampart space. He nodded to her.
Wynn glanced down at his sword. "You need to do something about that. Sages do not carry such weapons."
He nodded. "I will hide it better once we are inside."
Wynn wanted to kick herself. No matter what Chane did, he would never pass for a sage. And even without current circumstances, visitors weren't commonly allowed after dusk. What would anyone say or do if they caught her sneaking an unknown man into the guild grounds? Especially one so burned.
Wynn frowned. They wouldn't say anything at first, because they'd be wondering how she'd sneaked out.
She led the way along the wall's ramparts and kept glancing up. But she never saw even a flicker of light in any of the tower windows.
When they reached the library on the northeastern side, Chane boosted her by one foot. She peeked through the nearest window, but by the light of wall-mounted cold lamps she saw no one along the nearest shelves facing the windows. When they climbed inside, Wynn peered around the casement's end. The next row and the cubby beyond it were empty as well. When she turned back for Chane, she found him scanning the texts upon the shelves.
Some hint of pain filled his pale features beneath a gaze filled with awe. Or was it longing?
She couldn't help wondering what he'd been like in his living days. A scholar or just another spoiled, useless noble? Perhaps both. Few times had they ever spoken of his past—before or after she'd learned what he was.
"This way," she whispered.
He blinked as if waking from some dream, and the wonder faded from his eyes. But that hint of pain took an instant longer to follow. He nodded. They sneaked along the library's southern end and down the side staircase.
At every turn, archway, or door along the way, he waited behind as she stepped out to see if all was clear. Not that she wouldn't look suspicious in her old elven clothing, but everyone here already thought she was odd. The last path to the keep's double doors was the worst.
The entryway was empty, but she heard voices carry from the common hall. She cracked the left door and peered into the courtyard. It was empty as well, but this wasn't a welcome sight.
Where was Shade? Had she failed to get in?
Wynn began frantically trying to think of some way to find Shade and bring her in. Then a shadow moved at the courtyard's far left corner. Wynn tightened her grip on the crystal's staff.
The shadow shifted around the cistern beyond the dormitory's end. Two crystal blue eyes sparked in the light of the iron-bracketed torches burning upon the gatehouse's inner wall.
Shade stepped a little way out into sight. Her ears rose as she peered back across the courtyard, and Wynn started breathing again.
She stepped back to wave Chane forward, and they both ducked out, cloak hoods pulled up. They sneaked around the courtyard, rushing quickly as they passed the line of sight with the gatehouse tunnel. Shade was already waiting at the dormitory door. Once Wynn was certain the stairs and upper passage were clear, all three of them hurried to her room.
Closing the door tightly, Wynn leaned against it, took a deep breath, and dug for her cold lamp crystal. When she rubbed it hard, its light exposed Chane standing before her desk, glancing at her mess of quills, journals, and paper. She still couldn't believe that Shade and Chane had somehow traveled here together. He had a lot to explain.
"I must be mad," she said. "The premins and domins already think so… for all my warnings about undead. Now I've got one into my room."
Chane glanced over. He didn't even scowl at such a bad joke. He only shook his head.
"They are the mad ones… in discounting your greater experience in these matters. At least you think for yourself. I would have thought better of your elders here. Tilswith had a far more agile mind."
"I miss him," Wynn said.
Chane fingered a blank sheet on the desk. "So do I, at times."
She stood straighter, watching him roll a quill shaft with his pale fingertip. He was such a mass of confusing contradictions. Shade hopped up on the bed and settled. Everything else in Wynn's room looked the same.
Only a vampire and a majay-hì were new additions.
No, there was also the scroll.
Wynn stripped away her cloak as she leaned the staff in the corner. "My journal notes from today are on the desk. See what you make of them while I prepare."
"My grasp of the Begaine syllabary is not good," he said, picking up the journal.