Reaching the first landing, Shurq stepped close to the door, then paused. Motionless. A tripwire was set along the seam of the door, locked in place by the last servant to use the passage. Sometimes the simplest alarms succeeded where more elaborate ones failed, if only because the thief was over-anticipating the complication. She released the mechanism and turned the latch.
Into another servants’ passage, running parallel to the formal hallway, assuming a typical layout for Gerun’s estate. She found the lone door where she expected, on the right at the far end. Another tripwire to release, then she stepped through. The hallway was unlit, which was clever. Three doors along the opposite wall, the rooms beyond showing no light.
She was fairly certain she had found Gerun Eberict’s private quarters. Barely detectable in the gloom were a host of arcane sigils painted on the nearest door.
Shurq edged closer to study those symbols.
And froze as a dull voice spoke from down the corridor. ‘It was incompetence. Or so he says. And now I’m supposed to make it up to him.’
She slowly turned. A seated figure, sprawled back with legs stretched out, head tilted to one side.
‘You’re dead,’ the man said.
‘Is that a promise or an observation?’
‘Just something we have in common,’ he answered. ‘That doesn’t happen to me much, any more.’
‘I know just how you feel. So, Gerun has you here guarding his rooms.’
‘It’s my penance.’
‘For incompetence.’
‘Yes. Gerun doesn’t fire people, you know. He kills them and then, depending on how angry he is, either buries them or keeps them on for a time. I suppose he’ll bury me eventually.’
‘Without releasing your soul?’
‘He often forgets about that part.’
‘I’m here to steal everything he has.’
‘If you were living I would of course kill you in some monstrous, terrifying way. I would get up from this chair, feet dragging, arms out with my hands clawing the air. I’d make bestial sounds and moans and hisses as if I was hungry to sink my teeth into your throat.’
‘That would certainly prove sufficient to deter a thief. A living one, that is.’
‘It would, and I’d probably enjoy it, too.’
‘But I’m not living, am I?’
‘No. But I have one question for you and it’s an important one.’
‘All right. Ask it.’