The voices below were not the help. The pair were too animated, too full of anger and fear to belong to paid servants. No, the masters of the manse were below. Aelius could not make out the words until the pair climbed the stairs to the third floor. The sun had set an hour ago, but the rain had continued steadily all afternoon.
"... was missing."
"So either a thief or a someone who wants us to think it was only a thief."
"You are far too paranoid."
"You think this is some kind of farce? Are you only playing at..." Aelius could not make out the rest. The speaker had resorted to a whisper. She yawned in irritation. Listening through the ceiling was no good if conspirators whispered all the time.
"Really? The servants? Doubtful. They've been with me for three annums."
That 's better. More volume please conspirators!
"Then we have nothing to worry about. Besides, I already made the drop. My mission here is done."
That is not good.
The voices whispered for a while more, then a door slammed, and someone in boots stalked away from the room. Aelius knew Guttmacher must still be below. Von Brum must have been the other. That left open interrogation. She gave herself a five count, then made her way back to the trapdoor into Guttmacher's closet. As a wisp she moved, no sound elicited from the beams, nor when she removed the panel. She descended and listened at the closet door, hearing only Guttmacher packing things away. She took out her bronzed knuckles and the dirk at her waist.
She drew from her Wellspring and quick as lightning, she pushed the door open and threw her dirk, pinning Guttmacher's shirt to the bedpost as she rushed and punched him with the bronze knuckles to the back of the head. Guttmacher crumpled to the floor, his weight held up by his thick shirt and the dirk. Aelius glanced around and closed the door. There was no time for a cry to escape the traitor's lips, but she was not one to take unnecessary chances.
Guttmacher moaned as she retrieved her dirk, and Aelius punched him again, this time at the temple. He was heavy, but Aelius drew from her Wellspring, and she carried the man into the closet over her shoulder, shoved him into the attack, and opened the window, stepping out onto the ledge. She scanned the walls, and marked the replacement sentries. With effort, she drew more of her Wellspring and leaped from the window to the wall, Guttmacher still over her shoulder. Quick as lightning she crested the wall's top and dropped to the ground in the alley with her prize, then sprinted three blocks until flagging. The pair were behind a cobbler's shop, empty at this time of night, as was the rest of the small shops on the workmen's avenue. The Crimson Captain taught that preparation was key to every successful endeavor.
Aelius glanced at Guttmacher, blood swelling from his head in the two places she struck him. Not dying yet traitor, you need to talk. Picking him up around the shoulder, she carried him along as if helping a drunk. Their route was not far from von Brum's manse, chosen because its owner was abroad and the shop had a stout basement; Cardian was one of the soapmaker's regular customers. The cellar window was unlocked, just as Aelius had left it. No other thief had made use of the entrance, the fine red thread at the hinge still in place. With effort, Aelius shoved Guttmacher through the open cellar window, his dead weight landing on a pile of old rags she had collected for just this purpose. Breathing heavily, Aelius followed after, and re-latched the cellar window.