by Unknown
“It appears that my afternoon plans have changed. I am to break into someone’s house, determine the contents of a locked trunk, and escape undetected.”
“Let’s go scope it out.” Rainier usually accompanied Slate on his Sicarius missions. The Sicarius headmaster never explicitly required Slate to accomplish his missions alone. Indeed, the Sicarius notes never gave directions as to how a mission was to be accomplished. The tone of their dictation always implied that there was a way to complete the mission, if he were only clever enough to sort it out. It looked like it was time to solve another riddle.
The two paid the waitress and offered a generous tip. The poor thing seemed rather rattled by the note appearing in Slate’s plate.
Slate and Rainier made the short walk to Rue Street and along the way the houses turned from small residences into mansions with manicured gardens and sprawling estates. It made the rest of the city feel very confined in comparison.
Slate had difficulty telling which mansion the Sicarius headmaster’s note referenced because most estates displayed allegiance to Ispirtu. They had stone statues or ornamental trees cut into Ispirtu-inspired shapes. At the top of a hill, Rainier discreetly gestured to his right. Slate let his gaze wander in that direction and the meaning of the headmaster’s letter became apparent. This mansion had a small number of Ispirtu orbs dancing around a non-descript stone figure. The orbs changed appearance to give the stone figure the likeness of various wizards that Slate recognized from his Ispirtu training. The orbs indicated this was the correct target of his mission, but the mansion itself left no doubt. The stately home had purple banners hanging from every window, and each banner bore the Regallo family crest.
The estate had a sprawling lawn bordered by a six-foot wrought iron fence. Slate assumed if Brannon could spare some orbs for an ornamental statue, then he probably had a few working security similar to Ispirtu. The main gate was swung open in a gesture of inclusion to the citizens, but Slate took one look inside the gatehouse and knew the gesture was merely symbolic. The guard looking back at him struggled to appear relaxed, like he was more inclined to act than sit. This was a Crimson Guardsman with training from Bellator. Slate needed more information about the house and the security there, but he was already being watched.
They walked by the estate talking amiably, cognizant of the guardsman’s eyes burning holes in the back of their heads. After disappearing from the guard’s view, Slate strategized with Rainier. “That mansion is on lockdown. If we have any chance of getting in there, we need to know exactly where security is stationed and how they respond to an alarm.”
Rainier continued Slate’s thought, “…and we need the alarm to be completely innocent so that the guardsmen go back to their posts calm and unsuspecting.”
Slate looked around and spotted two young boys playing catch with a ball. That was about as innocent as you could get. He gestured toward the boys. “I’ll enlist their help. Can you circle around the back and scout the guard’s response there?”
“I’m sure the Regallos have a servant’s entrance so they don’t have to interact with the help. I’ll watch from there.” Rainier disappeared through the lawn of an estate without the security concerns of the Regallos.
Slate approached the young boys. “Nice arm. Which one of you can throw it the farthest?” The older of the boys didn’t need much encouragement. He wound up and threw the ball as far as he could, sending it into the neighbor’s yard.
Slate walked over and picked it up. “Do you think I can get the ball over that fence at the top of the hill?”
“No way!” The younger boy proclaimed. Slate launched the ball into the air and easily cleared the fence into the Regallo estate.
“How are we going to get it back?” The older boy asked.
“You can climb that fence, can’t you?” Slate challenged the older boy, who took it up defiantly.
“Of course I can!”
The older boy climbed the fence, and Slate observed the guard’s response. The first guardsman signaled a security breach to the guardhouse and three alert guardsmen exited the main entrance of the estate. When they saw the nature of the security breach, one guard ushered the boy off the grounds with his ball while the others returned to their posts.
Rainier met up with Slate. “What did you find out?”
“Three guardsmen came out the front door at the alert. I was surprised not to see any security orbs, so we caught a break there. Unfortunately, that’s where the good news stopped. Despite the estate’s outbuildings to hide behind, the only visible entrance is the front door or one of the windows, and we’d be in plain view if we tried to use them to enter the house. Did you have any better luck?”
“The back of the house has two entrances. Four guardsmen emptied onto the back lawn from one entrance, but none exited the service entrance on the side of the house.”
Rainier had done very well on this trip. If they were going to use the service door, however, Slate needed more information. “What about windows or a strategy for approaching the door unseen? How do you know there isn’t a Crimson Guardsmen posted just inside the door?”
Rainier furrowed his brow before answering. “Well, I didn’t see much security at the gate on the side of the house, but the neighbor’s estate is immediately adjacent to the property. There was a baker’s cart that was pulling up to the service entrance. We could wait until they get another delivery and sneak in…”
Slate had already turned toward the neighbor’s estate. “We go now then. They may not have another delivery until tomorrow, and that is our only chance to get into the Regallo estate.” He didn’t leave time for Rainier to argue.
Infiltrating the neighbor’s estate was child’s play in comparison to the Regallos. Hedges lined the street and ran the perimeter of the lawn. Slate ducked through the hedges and gazed at the lavish house offset from the street. Immaculate gardens were laid in his immediate vicinity, with mature rosebushes providing cover. Slate crept along the rosebushes, darted behind a gardener’s shed, and sprinted to the corner of the house, ducking beneath the windows as he waited and listened for any shouts of alarm. None came, Rainier joined him a second later, and Slate moved on without a second thought. After navigating the halls of Ispirtu, an estate lawn was hardly worth mentioning.
They moved toward the back of the house and Rainier stopped Slate when he thought they were at the closest point to the service entrance of Regallo’s estate. “How are we getting across?” Rainier asked.
“I’m afraid we won’t be…I need a lookout.”
“But you don’t know what you’ll encounter in the house. You need me with you.”
“If I get caught in there, there are enough guardsmen that backup won’t matter.” Slate continued before another argument could be made. “That is a six-foot fence. I could climb it, but the few seconds it would take to scale might be the difference between getting caught and fulfilling the mission. It’d be a lot quicker with your help…”
Rainier gave in. “Yes, Teacher.” The last word came out with a bit more sharpness than it typically did. Rainier was not happy about being left on this side of the fence. That didn’t stop him from dutifully ducking into the hedges, scouting the Regallo estate, and reporting back.
“The delivery cart is still there. It looks like a delivery from the bakery. One guardsman patrols the back lawn of the estate. I’ll signal when her attention is drawn away…now.”
Slate ran directly toward the fence, and Rainier squatted near the hedges. Slate launched himself into the air, tucking his legs, and landing on Rainier’s shoulders. Slate pushed off Rainier as Rainier straightened upwards, catapulting Slate into the air. His forward momentum carried him over the six-foot fence with room to spare. He landed on the lawn of the Regallo estate, rolling once before springing to his feet.
Slate straightened up as quickly as possible, and walked with the dutiful boredom of a delivery man. At the back of the cart, loaves of bread and other assort
ed baked goods were lined up in crates, having been set aside in a single group for this delivery. Slate picked up a crate with some pastries in it.
A man with a white apron hurried toward him. Slate spoke before he could be questioned. “The kitchen wanted these right away, so I got sent for ‘em.” The questioning turned into a lecture from the baker. “This is good honest work. Straighten your back, and carry those with pride. You could do worse in life than earning an honest living.”
Slate straightened his back and headed for the service entrance. Inside the door, a clerk catalogued the incoming order. Slate applied the same strategy a second time. “I’m the baker’s help. He wanted me to bring these in, but he didn’t tell me where to go.” Ignorance was a valuable tool when properly applied.
“Then you should have thought to ask him. I don’t have time for incompetence. I see you have three orders of pastries. Bring them to the kitchen. Take the first right, and the kitchen is at the end of the hall.” Perfect…directions and dismissal. Slate gained information and would be forgotten nearly before he left. Slate left the pointy nosed clerk to his ledger and turned the corner of the hallway.
At the end of the hallway, a large door opened into a bustling kitchen. In here he’d be discovered immediately. Thankfully, there was a small service stairwell along the hallway for the servants’ use. Slate started up the stairwell, but some potted flowers on a small table in the landing caught his eye. There was a decorative plate beneath the pot to catch any excess water that drained through. Slate grabbed it along with the white cloth covering the table. At the top of the stairs he spotted a lavatory and ducked into it. He wrapped the cloth around his waist like a busboy’s apron, wiped off the decorative plate using the monogrammed hand towel, arranged a few pastries on the plate and hid the crate in a cabinet, walking out the door carrying the plate in one hand at shoulder level.
While pretending to serve the pastries, Slate used his peripheral vision to get the layout of the second floor. The hallway formed an H, with rooms lining the sides of the hallways. The great room of the main floor opened to the ceiling, with the hallway turning into a catwalk that looked down upon the great room and beyond that, the back lawn. The last room drew Slate’s attention because someone stood guard outside the door. If there was a trunk of great importance, it would probably be in there. Slate made for the door. He would simply convince the guard that he was supposed to lay out the pastries for Brannon’s arrival and gain access.
Halfway down the hall, a female voice called from an open doorway. “There you are, you lazy oaf of a servant. I called for those to be brought up ages ago. You took so long you forgot which room I was in.”
Slate stopped in his tracks. Was he caught? The voice was loud enough that the guard could hear it, so Slate had little choice but to respond, “My apologies, Madame.”
He turned around and an urgent whisper commanded as he entered the room, “Close the door”. In the room, a well-dressed lady lay heaped unceremoniously on a cushioned bench. An elaborate looking trunk sat in the center of the room, and the Sicarius headmaster rested upon it.
The headmaster dressed in a series of black wraps that concealed every inch of skin and the folds of which hid innumerable weapons. The design was impressive in its practicality and the freedom of movement built into its construction. Slate wondered if it was enchanted but only momentarily because his attention was drawn to the face, or rather the mask, of the headmaster. It was a dark grey, or perhaps a dull black and Slate could not make out any defining features, including a mouth or eyes. It made his head hurt to look at it too long.
The headmaster obviously didn’t have any trouble seeing him or reading his expression. “Your eyes see the reflection of light. The mask is enchanted to attract light, making its features difficult to discern. Without the benefit of light, people tend to fill in the blanks with surrounding information, predominantly the clothes one is wearing.” The headmaster revealed an object hidden under a fold in a leg wrap. “This is a shock stick, which I believe you are familiar with…”
Slate subconsciously rubbed his neck, remembering his first encounter with the headmaster.
“The lady of the estate was just introduced to it. I then mimicked her voice to call you into the room so as not to alert the guard.” The headmaster then continued in a decidedly more masculine voice. “She’ll be rejoining us in a few minutes, so let’s be brief. I am unsure what to do with you, Slate Severance.” The confession gave the headmaster rare pause. “You progressed quite rapidly through the missions I provided, faster than any recruit I’ve ever trainied. Your rapid success indicated you were ready for a test, which you are currently undergoing. The note I sent to you described an Ispirtu-inspired mansion on this street. You must have realized that every house on this street could be described as Ispirtu-inspired. Students choose a mansion with higher security to show their abilities, but they use the vague description as an excuse to choose a mansion in which they are sure to succeed. As a result, I am able to get a realistic assessment of skill level. Once a house is chosen, I break in before the student, set up the trunk, and observe. This is where you have caused me a problem.”
The headmaster stood up from the trunk and walked over to the unconscious woman, checking her pulse. “Two minutes…” The headmaster moved silkily toward Slate until hot breath angrily tickled the side of his neck.
“You, Slate Severance, chose to break into the home of Brannon Regallo, the most powerful wizard in this fractal-forsaken kingdom.” The headmaster nearly spat with the forcefulness of the whispered condemnation. “The fact that you made it this far into his estate required an immense amount of talent and luck. The fact that you attempted to do so shows an even more obvious lack of judgment and flaw in your character. If I had let you continue into Brannon’s office as you were planning, you would have set off his alarms and would be lucky to survive long enough to grovel for forgiveness.”
The headmaster walked toward the trunk and kicked the lid open. “The contents are yours. Claim your prize while I figure out what to do with you.”
Slate peered inside the trunk and found a sealed letter, which he tucked away. Then Slate noticed it was difficult to look into one corner of the trunk. He placed his hands around a Sicarius mask identical to the one the headmaster was wearing. His hands were still quivering when the heap on the couch began to stir.
“Time to go, Slate.” The venom in the headmaster’s voice had disappeared and Slate was ushered toward an open second-story window. The headmaster threw a round object and shoved Slate through the window after it. Panic swept over Slate, but as he fell he saw the round object hit the ground. There was a hissing sound as the object grew in size until it was roughly twice as large as his body. He landed on his back expecting a crunch, but instead the object absorbed his fall and catapulted him back into the air. The fence to Brannon’s estate passed beneath his airborne body and he landed with a thud in the neighbor’s hedges. Rainier appeared at his side a moment later, pulling him to his feet. The two sprinted as fast as their feet would take them until the sounds of raised alarms faded far into the distance.
CHAPTER TEN
PEACE, IN VARIOUS FORMS
The apartment building was indistinguishable from other complexes. Four apartments rose above a small merchant shop in a blue-collar district of Ravinai. Slate and Rainier chose this particular spot to reside because the apartment had a separate entrance to the street, solid locks, and access to the rooftops via a balcony.
Slate appreciated the comfort of his new home by propping himself against lounging pillows arranged in the manner of the Tallow tribe. “What happened in the Regallo estate and why did you fly over the fence like a drunken squirrel?” Rainier tired of waiting for Slate to explain their afternoon’s adventure.
“I was about to walk into Brannon’s guarded office, and presumably imminent danger, when the Sicarius headmaster intervened. I was given a note and this mask, before being shoved out a wind
ow, which is when you witnessed my graceful flight over the neighbor’s fence. Why would you waste liquor on squirrels? In Pillar, we left the squirrels alone and saved the liquor for pretty girls.”
“Does that mean you completed the mission? Squirrels take less liquor to provide entertainment and if you need help from liquor to meet a pretty girl, maybe I should be the teacher.” Rainier responded.
“The mission was a sham. It gauged my capabilities based upon which house I entered on Rue Street. The headmaster would sneak into the house and hide the trunk somewhere on the second floor.” Slate enjoyed bantering with Rainier. “I don’t need liquor to meet girls. I just say the words tournament champion, and they forget their dignity. It works great, but you wouldn’t know about that.”
“Why did the headmaster stop you when you broke into the Regallo estate? Even a nomadic tribesman knows that is an adventure wrapped in folly, and yet you partook.” The student chided his teacher. “The words ‘tournament champion’ will just as likely get you stabbed in a back alley as they will get you the girl. I’ll take Tallow charm and charisma any day.”
“Apparently I’m an innovator. No one has ever chosen to break into the Regallo estate and the Sicarius headmaster needed to intervene due to the uniqueness of the situation. Regardless, the headmaster prized me with the contents of the chest, so I would say the mission was a success, although it probably relies on the contents of the letter. Judging by the quietness of our apartment on most nights, I would say the mission was more successful than the Tallow charm.”
“Before making any claims against the Tallow charm, you better make sure you know what that letter says.”
