‘Why don’t we just go on across?’ ‘You go ahead. I think I’ll go talk with the naked lady for a while.’
‘Never mind, Kurik. She has her mind on other things.’
‘I’m sort of an expert on fertility, if that’s what’s really bothering her.’ ‘Let’s go, Kurik.’
They crossed their makeshift bridge to the top of the consulate wall and crept along it until they reached a place where the branches of a well-watered fig tree reached up out of the shadows below. They climbed down the tree and stood for a moment or two beside it while Sparhawk got his bearings.
‘You wouldn’t happen to know where the consul’s bedchamber is, would you?’ Kurik whispered.
‘No,’ Sparhawk replied softly, ‘but I can guess. It’s the Elenian consulate, and all official Elenian buildings are more or less the same. The private quarters will be upstairs at the back.’
‘Very good, Sparhawk,’ Kurik said dryly. ‘That narrows things down considerably. Now we only have to search about a quarter of the building.’
They crept through a shadowy garden and entered by way of an unlocked back door. They passed through a darkened kitchen and into the dimly lit central hall. Kurik suddenly jerked Sparhawk back into the kitchen.
‘What ‘ Sparhawk started to object in a hoarse whisper.
‘Shhh!’
Out in the hall there was the bobbing glow of a candle. A matronly woman, a housekeeper or perhaps a cook, walked towards the kitchen door. Sparhawk shrank back as she stood framed in the doorway. Then she took hold of the handle and firmly closed the door.
‘How did you know she was coming?’ Sparhawk whispered.
‘I don’t know,’ Kurik whispered back. ‘I just did.’ He put his ear to the door. ‘She’s moving on,’ he reported softly.
‘What’s she doing up at this time of the night?’
‘Who knows? Maybe she’s just making sure all the doors are locked. Aslade does that every night.’ He listened again. ‘There,’ he said, ‘she just closed another door, and I can’t hear her out there any more. I think she went to bed.’
‘The staircase should be just opposite the main entry-way, ’ Sparhawk whispered. ‘Let’s get upstairs before somebody else comes wandering by.’
They darted out into the hallway and up a broad flight of stairs to the upper floor.
‘Look for an ornate door,’ Sparhawk whispered. The consul’s the master of the house, so he’s likely to have the most luxurious room. You go that way, and I’ll go this.’
They separated and went in opposite directions on tiptoe. At the end of the hallway, Sparhawk found an elaborately carved door decorated with gilt paint. He opened it carefully and looked inside. By the light of a single dimly glowing oil lamp he saw a stout, florid-faced man of fifty or so lying on his back in the bed. The man was snoring loudly. Sparhawk recognized him. He softly closed the door and went looking for Kurik. His squire met him at the head of the stairs.
‘How old a man is the consul?’ Kurik whispered.
‘About fifty.’
‘The one I saw wasn’t him, then. There’s a carved door at the far end. There’s a young fellow about twenty in bed with an older woman.’
‘Did they see you?’
‘No. They were busy.’
‘Oh. The consul’s sleeping alone. He’s down at this end of the hall.’
‘Do you suppose the woman at the other end could be his wife?’
‘That’s their business, isn’t it?’
Together they tiptoed back down to the gilt-painted door. Sparhawk eased it open, and they went inside and crossed the floor to the bed. Sparhawk reached out and took the consul’s shoulder. ‘Your Excellency,’ he said quietly, shaking the man.
The consul’s eyes flew open, then glazed and went blank as Kurik rapped him sharply behind the ear with the hilt of his dagger. They trussed the unconscious man up in a dark blanket and Kurik unceremoniously slung the limp form over his shoulder. ‘is that everything we need here?’ he asked.
‘That’s it,’ Sparhawk said. ‘Let’s go.’
They crept back down the stairs and into the kitchen again. Sparhawk carefully closed the door leading into the main part of the house. ‘Wait here,’ he breathed to Kurik. ‘Let me check the garden. I’ll whistle if it’s clear.’ He slipped out into the shadowed garden and carefully moved from tree to tree, his eyes alert. He suddenly realized that he was enjoying himself immensely. He hadn’t had so much pure fun since he and Kalten had been boys and had regularly slipped out of his father’s house in the middle of the night bent on mischief.
He whistled a very poor imitation of a nightingale.
After a moment, he heard Kurik’s hoarse whisper coming from the kitchen door. ‘is that you?’
For an instant, he was tempted to whisper back, ‘No,’ but then he got himself under control again.
They had some difficulty getting the inert body of the consul up the fig tree, but finally managed by main strength. Then they crossed their makeshift bridge and pulled the beams back onto the roof.
‘She’s still there,’ Kurik whispered.
‘Who is?’
The naked lady’
‘It’s her roof.’
They dragged the beams back to the far side of the roof and lowered them again. Then Sparhawk climbed down and caught the consul’s body when Kurik lowered it to him. Kurik joined him a moment later, and they restacked the beams against the wall.
‘All nice and neat,’ Sparhawk said with satisfaction, brushing his hands together.
Kurik hefted the body up onto his shoulder again. ‘Won’t his wife miss him?’ he asked.
‘Not very much, I wouldn’t think – if that was her in the bedroom at the other end of the hall. Why don’t we go back to the monastery?’
They trudged off carrying the body and reached the outskirts of town in about half an hour, dodging several watchmen along the way The consul, draped over Sparhawk’s shoulder, groaned and stirred weakly
Kurik rapped him on the head again.
When they entered the abbot’s study, Kurik unceremoniously dumped the unconscious man on the floor. He and Sparhawk looked at each other for a moment, then they both burst into uncontrollable laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ the abbot demanded.
‘You should have come along, my Lord,’ Kurik gasped. ‘I haven’t had so much fun in years.’ He began laughing again. ‘The bridge was the best, I think.’