Prince Nera Mossveil's Arc

Chapter 6 of 23

Gareth came back through the gate at dusk with a jug under one arm and a slower walk than he had left with. He passed the watchers without a glance and cut into the trees a mile north. Nera met him in the grove where the dragonfly rested under a low branch. Gareth set the jug down and drew a square in the dirt with his stick. "Second floor. Corner rooms above the wine shop. Two doors. One to the hall, one to a back stair." He tapped each mark. "Four guards. Two at the hall door. Two at the stair." "When do they change?" Gareth's stick stopped. "Couldn't tell. Watched three hours. Saw one swap at the stair. None at the hall. Pattern's not clean." Nera stared at the square in the dirt. Four guards was manageable if he came through the window between shifts. Four guards was a coffin if fresh men climbed the stair while he was inside. He needed the schedule and he did not have days to sit and learn it. If he waited, the buyer would move, or more hunters would come north. He told Gareth to go back at first light and buy wine from the shop under the rooms. Sit through the morning. Count every boot on the stair. Mark the hour of each change on a slip of paper. Gareth nodded once and lay down against a root to sleep. Nera did not sleep. He turned the square in his head until the shape of it steadied. Gareth walked back into the market at dawn and did not come out until the bell for the noon meal. He returned at dusk with the jug refilled and a folded scrap in his fist. He spread it on the dirt beside the square. Four tally marks, four times written beside them. The stair guards changed on the second hour of every watch. The hall guards changed on the fourth. There was a gap of a slow count of thirty between the old pair leaving and the new pair climbing. It happened four times in a day. The next fell an hour before dawn. "Third watch," Gareth said. "Hour before light. Back stair empties first." Nera folded the scrap into his belt. He had the hour. He had the window. The buyer slept behind the corner room and would wake to a blessed blade at his throat before the new guards reached the landing. He drew the dagger, checked the edge, and slid it home. Gareth put the jug aside and picked up his sword belt from the grass. "Before dawn," Nera said. "We go over the back roof. You hold the stair. I take the room." "Good," Gareth said.