by Ross Dupree
Appointment With The Spider King
Copyright 2013 Ross Dupree
This fog would kill him yet, Rickard thought as his foot slipped again. He was grateful for the cover it offered, but it also made the baked clay tiles of the roof almost too slick for him to walk on. The soft leather soles on his shoes provided the same mixture of blessing and curse. They kept his steps quiet as he padded along the roofline, but one wrong step and he'd be clattering down the sloped tiles and onto the stone city streets three stories below. He didn't think that would go so quietly.
The fog was thinning, but it still blocked the sky and so visibility remained low. His leap from inside the palace fortifications out to the chimney of the house had been completely blind. He made the jump purely on faith, though after his hours of reconnaissance he had known exactly how far across and exactly how far down the leap would take him. Still, it had been a harrowing distance, plunging into a gray cloud of fog. Not that there had been much choice. His plan had gotten him up the palace wall, but there was no provision for getting back down it. The only way out had been forward through the steps of his plan. Most of Rickard's plans seemed to work like that.
The wall was mostly empty tonight, which was one reason he had finally made the leap and put this ambitious plan into action. The guards were almost entirely all on station in the various courtyards of the palace, serving as human decorations in their bright blue dress tunics. This was the largest party at the palace in some time, at least as far as Rickard knew. Not that he was ever on the invitation list, not like Arundel, the owner of this house. From the little he'd seen while creeping along the wall, it looked like several parties happening at once, each with their own hierarchy and protocol. He had heard it was all related to a visiting diplomatic mission, but King Vion and his court never had been much for informing the populace what was happening inside the palace grounds.
Whatever was going on in there, it had presented him with the perfect opportunity he had been waiting for. Or at least removed any further excuses for delay. The city's guards all preoccupied, the owner of the house away. The owner's entire entourage was at the gala as well, which was a stroke of very rare luck. The building should be quite nearly empty.
He finally came to the roof's edge, feeling the void beyond his feet. This time at least he could see where he'd be jumping to. The balcony was only a dozen feet or so below, so he scanned it carefully to see if there were any obstacles he hadn't been able to spot from the streets. The edges were lined with exotic plants. To Rickard's frustration they had shielded the balcony from ground-level viewing, though their main purpose was likely to show off Arundel's wealth and reach. Arundel was the best connected merchant in the city, and he had contacts in lands so far away that Rickard did not even know their names. He certainly couldn't identify all the plants. Which would be a good reason not to touch any of them. You never knew what the wealthy might find amusing as a form of home protection.
When he looked at the rest of the balcony, though, he saw the plants weren't all for show. They made the balcony into a cozy little space clearly set aside for daring outdoor trysts and assignations. There were several ornate lounges and even what appeared to be a small bath. Rickard picked what looked like a safe spot in the middle of the furniture and used the reach of his thin, tall frame to drop softly to the balcony.
Two sets of windowed doors led inside and he peered into each, trying to determine which route was the safest. The left set of doors, next to the small bath, led to a bedroom. The bedroom had a fantastically ornate ceiling painted with an elaborate representation of the night sky. He could see that stars in the sky matched the ones with which he was familiar, but lines had been drawn to make them into constellations that were considerably more obscene than the ones he had learned as a small boy. And his childhood education had been quite...broad. The rich, he thought, would always find new ways to indulge themselves.
To his surprise, he could not see another way out of the bedroom other than the doors he looked through. A private room indeed. He would have bet a grand feast at the Midnight Garden that there was a hidden door out of the room, but he had neither the time nor inclination to search for it.
Which left the other set of doors. These led into a large room lined with bookshelves. The shelves stretched ceiling to floor and were completely filled with books. Rickard had no idea why any man would want so many books. Even if you had time to read them all, why would you when there were so many other diversions available? There was a long reading table in the center of the room, with a number of luxurious chairs spread about as well. The room was unlit and unoccupied.
He turned the door handle down gently until he heard a soft click. He froze. He slowly moved the handle back to its original position. Of course there would be some protection here. An alarm? A trap? Had he triggered it? Better to move in or to wait? It couldn't be a trap, could it? How would lovers come back inside from the balcony?
He tried the handle again, this time turning it up. No click. He was going to have to be more careful here than he had thought. He opened the door and listened. No sound of anyone coming. Perhaps the alarm had not been triggered. If it had been an alarm. If he wasn't being overly paranoid. But then, he was breaking into the home of one the most connected men in town. Paranoia was a completely sane response.
Entering the room, Rickard looked about, assessing and inventorying the room with a professional's eye. An elaborate tapestry hung on one wall, depicting a caravan crossing a desert to a sea. Small, finely made etchings were placed around the bookshelves. Tomes of various sizes, in a variety of languages. Subjects practical and philosophical, though he noted none of the religious sort. The library of a well-traveled and well-read man, meant to convey sophistication and wealth. But not a room with many items of value to Rickard. The local market for the books and etchings was small and incestual. Both of the major bookshops in town would be very suspicious of a man like Rickard offering books like these, if they didn't recognize the works outright as belonging to this particular library. He could still sell them to fences with out of town connections, but the price would be so low as to not make it worth his effort. The house would have items of a more fungible nature, so he prepared to explore deeper into the building.
He padded across the room and went to the door on the far side. Pressing his ear against the door, he listened carefully for any sound from the other side. Hearing nothing, he unlocked the door and turned the handle. He cracked the door open and looked into a hallway that seemed to run the length of the third floor. No one there.
Stepping into the hallway, he rounded the corner of the doorframe and saw a small muscular sharp-toothed dog looking up at him.
The dog's tail stood tensely in the air, and a soft growl came from its throat. It looked ready to release a mighty bark at the intruder standing in the hallway. Not to mention those sharp little teeth.
Rickard quickly loosened his posture and smiled at the dog. Friendly, comfortable, at home. He knelt on one knee, extending a hand for the animal to sniff. The dog cocked its head to the side, caught off guard by the gesture from someone it did not know. "Hello," Rickard said in a soft welcoming voice. Still smiling. Always smiling. Confidently looking into the animal's eyes.
The dog lowered its tail, looked down at Rickard's hand. It walked forward slowly, then moved its nose all around his palm. Eventually it licked Rickard's fingers.
Rickard continued smiling and walked back into the library. The dog followed. Rickard waved at the animal with a soft "Bye bye" as he stepped into the hallway and closed the door. The last sight he had of the dog was while it was wagging its tail happily at its new friend.
> At least he'd made it through that safely! If the dog had barked he'd have had to have grabbed some etchings and ran. A disappointing take for plunging blindly through fog. Still, even though he was out of immediate danger, it was only a matter of time before the bored dog started barking to be let free. It was too bad it couldn't reach the books, it might have occupied itself with tearing them up. Rickard should have put a couple on the floor.
In any case, he had to move faster now. He padded down the long hallway, ignoring the doors that had been left ajar. Nothing valuable would be in there, he knew. He walked past the central staircase and began trying the closed doors on the other side of the building. If the door handle turned, he moved to the next. He wanted rooms that stayed locked when no one was inside.
He found one, at the far corner, which should not have surprised him. He reached inside his woolen shirt and extracted his tools. He knelt to begin working on opening the door. The lock had at first seemed simple, almost perfunctory, but he was having a hard time hitting all the tumblers,
