Coming up to the exit, he placed his ear against the door and listened. When all he heard was silence, he lifted the latch and slowly opened the door. The doorway itself was quite narrow, barely two feet in width. Once he had it opened a crack, he peered through and saw that the room remained dark and empty. Pushing the door open wider, he passed through to the other side and then closed it behind him.
Bart moved from the servant’s room to the main, central room where those who were using this suite would meet and visit with guests. He entered and immediately went to the fireplace. Though it had been cleaned after the last occupant, there was still enough soot attached to the sides and up inside the flue for what he planned to do.
Using a cloth from his pack, he rubbed it along the inner sides of the fireplace. Then once the cloth was darkened with soot, he began rubbing it onto his exposed skin. This way, light wouldn’t be reflected off of his pale skin and give him away.
Once he had applied the soot to face, neck, arms, and hands, he returned the cloth back to his pack and crossed over to the window. A cool breeze blew through the cracks of the shutter. Bart swung open the shutter and looked down. It was far enough to the ground below that he risked a broken leg if he were to simply freefall the distance.
But he had planned for that. Moving away from the window, he crossed over to the main bedroom of the suite. There, the bed was still covered in sheets and quilts. Bart put his pack on a bedside table and then commenced pulling the covers off. The quilts he tossed aside.
He took the one sheet and began ripping it into long strips, each about six inches wide. Once he had eighteen identical strips, he started braiding them together into strands of three. When he was done, he had six, seven foot long braided sections lying before him on the bed. He tied their ends together until he had a makeshift rope, roughly twenty feet in length. Not nearly long enough to reach to the ground, he set the rope aside and commenced on the bottom sheet. Together they wouldn’t reach all the way to the ground, but at least it should bring him close enough so he could drop the rest of the way without injury.
Once he had the second rope completed and tied to the first, he coiled the entire length of makeshift rope and brought it out to the central room. There he tossed it onto a chair before returning back into the bedroom. Against one wall was a heavy dresser. He dragged the dresser out into the central room and placed it beneath the window. Once it was against the wall, he retrieved the rope and secured it to the dresser. When he was sure the rope was tied well and unlikely to come undone, he climbed up onto the dresser and looked outside.
Three guards were currently standing in the courtyard below. Two were off to the right, and another to the left. The two to the right were talking to each other, and the one to the left was currently looking the other way. Atop the outer wall across from where he looked from the window, walked a lone archer. It was difficult to determine which way he was facing. After a moment’s scrutiny, Bart figured he was looking out into the city. Now was his chance.
With a quick glance to the left and right to make sure the guards hadn’t changed position, he dropped the rope out the window. He gave it a few firm tugs to make sure it would hold his weight. Then going feet first, he was out the window and descending quickly down the rope.
He moved as fast as he could as it was only a matter of time, minutes or even seconds, before he and his makeshift rope would be discovered. Upon reaching the end of his rope, he glanced to the three guards to see if he’d been discovered. All three still hadn’t realized what he was doing.
Then bracing himself for the fall, he let go of the rope.
“I can’t believe we haven’t found him yet!” stated the River Man in anger. For hours his men have scoured every hall, room, and nook all to no avail. It was as if the man had vanished.
“There’s no way he could have escaped my lord,” his sub-captain assured him. With the Captain of the River Man’s guards still in pursuit of the group who had fled earlier that day, he was now in charge of the guards. When the River Man turned angry eyes to his sub-captain, the man added, “Every avenue of escape is being watched. We have men stationed at both ends of the waterway beneath the castle. Guards are in every hallway and every possible exit is being watched.”
“He may be waiting for us to grow lax before trying to escape,” Lord Hurrin suggested. Lord Hurrin was one of the River Man’s most devoted followers. In fact, if it wasn’t for Lord Hurrin, the River Man would never have been named Warlord after his father and brother had been killed.
“Perhaps,” stated the Warlord of the Orack Tribe. Turning to the magic user, he demanded, and not for the first time, “Can’t you find him?”
“You know as well as I do that I can’t simply find someone whom I have never met,” he replied. “Magic doesn’t work that way.”
The River Man glowered at the three of them.
“But when I do,” the magic user stated, “rest assured that he won’t get away again.”
The River Man glared at the magic user. “He never should have gotten away the first time,” he said. He and the magic user had never been fond of one another. Having been his father’s magic user before him, Geffen had been around to see him grow up. He tended to think of him more as a boy than his lord. And that attitude rankled the Warlord of the Orack Tribe.
The magic user turned a deaf ear to the lord and instead, concentrated on the purplish ball resting upon his palm. Not a hint of magic did it detect.
“I trust this won’t interfere with our plans?” Lord Hurrin asked.
The River Man shook his hands. “It shouldn’t,” he replied. “Whatever mischief this intruder had been up to, I think we discovered him in time.”
“Excellent,” the lord said with a nod.
Just then one of the River Man’s servants entered the room. Giving a deep bow, the servant then came forward and held forth a scroll. “A messenger just arrived my lord,” said the servant. The River Man nodded to Lord Hurrin who took the scroll and opened it. As he read the missive, the servant turned about and quickly left the room.
“Good news,” he said with a grin.
“Is it the Basni?” asked the River Man.
Lord Hurrin nodded. “Yes. They’ll be at the rendezvous with five hundred men.”
The River Man moved to the window and looked northward. “Are our men assembled?” he asked.
“There are still a hundred from South Shadow that have yet to arrive,” replied Lord Hurrin. “I expect them any day.”
“Keep me posted,” the Warlord of the Orack Tribe said as he continued to gaze northward toward Byrdlon.
Hitting the ground, Bart rolled then came to a stop. Moving back against the wall, he glanced again to the guards. When he saw they remained oblivious to his presence, he dashed across the open area to the stable.
The stables were dark, with only the occasional equine noises coming from within. Bart raced for the door and reached it while still remaining unnoticed. He was surprised that he had made it this far without being seen. Praying to the gods that his luck would hold out for a little longer, he opened the stable door and entered.
Two big brown eyes greeted him as he passed inside. The horse in the nearest stall snorted and watched as Bart closed the door behind him. “Easy boy,” whispered Bart, at which the horse gave off with another snort.