there must be some small trick involved.
"Oh!" He heard a soft feminine voice behind him exclaim. He turned to look and saw a housekeeper, not much younger than himself, standing at the top of the stairs looking at him. She held a can of lamp oil in her hand. She looked at him with wide eyes.
Rickard rapidly thought through his options. The library exit was too far away, and besides, there was still the dog in there. The stairway would lead down into the more populated parts of the house, that was suicidal. The other rooms on this floor were mysteries. Probably empty, but maybe not, and who knew which had another exit?
So he stood to his full height, brushed a lock of blond hair from his face, looked the housekeeper directly in the eye, and gave her a rakish grin. Caught me, it seemed to say, isn't this a fun game? She opened her mouth and inhaled, and he put a finger to his lips. He would try to enlist her in the game.
She looked at him, eyes flicking down to see what he was holding in his other hand. She stepped back towards the stairs, reconsidered, and then smiled back at him. She touched a finger to her own lips.
She put down the can of lamp oil and walked towards him, grinning conspiratorially. Rickard waited, standing tall and relaxed, happy that she seemed willing join his little game. Maybe she was unhappy with her work, or at least found it unexciting. This could be a little thrill for her.
When she was about a foot away, she stopped and placed her hand flatly on his chest. She looked up at him, still grinning. He worked to keep his heart beating slow, but he was getting a little nervous as she reached for a pocket on her apron with her other hand.
She fished out a key and turned it in the lock. The door opened with a click-snick and Rickard knew he had just gotten very lucky and avoided another trap. The housekeeper, still silent, moved her hand to his shoulder and turned him to face into the room. Eyes twinkling, she gently pushed him in, giving him a quick pat on the butt as he entered the room. He turned to ask her a question, but she again touched a finger to her lips and disappeared down the hall.
Rickard was a bit disoriented by it all, but quickly decided to make the best of his time in the room. He looked about and saw that he was in an office. Shuttered windows on the far wall. Good, that was his way out.
Two large maps, one of Correndrum and one of the Known World, hung on opposite walls. The map of Correndrum was ornate and fanciful, more decorative than practical. Likely a Royal map, then. The map of the world was covered in markings and annotations, this was a map of a lively business operation. There was an ornate desk, inlaid with exotic woods. On the desk were various papers, ornaments, and implements. As well as a wooden box the size of a thick book.
Rickard immediately went to examine the box, his padded feet silent on the thick rug that covered nearly the entire room. The box was covered in intricate carving, numerous small gems inset into its surface. Some looked as though they were genuine precious gems. He lifted the box and found it to be surprisingly heavy. The fact that it was locked was not surprising. He quickly put it in a large pocket on his shirt, he would conduct a more careful examination later.
His eyes drifted to a small table with a large ivory horn which had been cut into a scrimshaw artifact. The work depicted ancient kings meeting on a battlefield, and was of such delicate detail that there was no doubt as to its value.
Rickard was debating whether he could successfully fence such a unique item when he heard a sound behind him. Spinning, he saw a tall older man standing in the doorway to the hall.
Judging from his outfit and manner, the man was head of the household staff. And judging by the look on his face, he was most definitely not going to play along with Rickard's games.
Rickard thought about rushing the man and forcing his way past him. But that would just put him deeper in the house with the same options he faced earlier with the housekeeper. No good choices that way.
The housekeeper appeared behind the old man, giggling. She made a hand sign for shame, pointing at Rickard. Maybe she hadn't bought into his game as completely as he had imagined.
"Young man. Put that down immediately and come with me." The old man did not sound like he was often disobeyed.
Rickard put the ivory artifact down, but then immediately spun and ran for the shutters covering the window. He pulled at the handle to open them, but found they had been locked in some way. He did not see how. Now the housekeeper was laughing out loud in the hallway. Rickard looked trapped.
He took a few menacing steps toward the old man, there was only one way out of this room now. But he suddenly turned and ran at the shutters, slamming his shoulder into them at full force. The thin wood gave way, and Rickard found himself flying through the window behind them...and into freefall.
In a near panic, Rickard saw the stones of the street rushing up towards him. But he also saw the balustrade of a second floor balcony. Flailing his arms in that direction, he was able to just grab the rail with one hand. It wasn't enough to stop his fall, and his right arm was nearly wrenched from his body and then his grip gave way. But it was enough to slow his fall, and when he hit the hard street he landed on his side, taking the impact on his right arm and leg.
He lay stunned for several seconds. Then he heard yelling from inside the house and it brought him to his senses. He stood woozily, checking the damage. Heavily bruised, and his right arm was nearly useless after the rough jerk and the impact, but he didn't seem to have broken any bones. He started making his way down the street, knowing he had to get moving and get out this area before the house roused the guards.
He looked up at the house through the thinning fog as he stumbled the first few steps and saw the housekeeper peering through the broken slats he'd jumped through. She had that same mocking grin on her face, and for reasons he didn't fully understand in his stunned state, he gave her a wry salute. Then he focused his attention on the street and moving faster.
He had planned out his escape route in detail, building in options and opportunities over the course of the past several weeks. He started running now, his mind clearing and his plans returning to him.
He could hear noise and confusion behind him as the house and its occupants moved into action. He soon heard the call coming through streets, "Guards! Thief! Guards!" He had to get out of this place. Now.
Running away from the palace, where the majority of the guards were stationed tonight, he turned down an alleyway that would lead into the artisan's district. The shops there would be closed this time of night and the streets would be empty. He would stand out as he moved, but he could run faster and perhaps the fog was still dense enough that he wouldn't be noticed more than a block or two away.
The call to arms of the city guard filled the air as he ran, they'd be looking for him now. Or for a thief in any case. They wouldn't know what he looked like. But they'd stop him, dressed as he was, and search him. And if they found the box, he'd be headed for a short trial and a quick sentence. And considering who he'd robbed, a long slow punishment.
If he could make it across the river into the tradesmen's district, he would have a chance. Even this late at night there would be crowds in the taverns there. He could blend in. But that meant getting across the canal. The bridges would have been closed off as soon as the alarum was called out. No one would get across them without a very close inspection.
His stride was fast but still nearly silent. He heard the jangle of armored guards beginning to move around the streets, and he could see their torches lighting their way through the fog. He would be at the canal soon and then he'd learn if his preparation had paid off.
A voice behind him yelled, "I see him! Here! He's here!" Moments later an arrow whizzed past his midriff. Since when did the city guards arm themselves with bows? It must be a palace guard. And he was a damn good shot!
Rickard knew he couldn't give that man another clean shot. He rounded the next corner, pulling him out of sight of the guard and his bow. He saw what he wanted
midway down the block, a grate leading to the sewers. It was one Rickard had unlocked last night while planning escape. Preparation did have rewards. He jerked the grate open with his left arm and jumped down into the tunnel. The stench was strong, but at least the water flow was low. He ran through the brick passageways towards the canal. The gate there should still be unlocked too and then he'd be able to cross to the other side.
Finding his way through these sewers was second nature to him, he'd spent hours travelling through them and learning the twists and turns. There was almost no light in these tunnels, and he usually carried a small flame to light his way. Tonight, though, he didn't have any light and made his way in the total darkness. He thought the guards wouldn't follow him without light until he heard the unmistakable sound of metal armor scraping the walls behind him. Rickard was shocked a guard had come into the sewers without a light, and even more surprised he was following so closely. This is what happens if you rob a man whose wife was sister to the captain of the guard. The captain, Fleur, was a very determined and ruthless man, and his troops were much the same. Fencing the box and whatever was inside it was going to be impossible.
Rickard knew the guard would be able to follow him easily. The sewers were not