The next morning found Geret across the city, breaking into Salvor’s personal chambers in the ancestral Thelios home, while dressed as a liveried servant of the household. He figured he would have plenty of time to search for the sword, and so he began looking in the most obvious places first. He was checking the back wall of a wardrobe when the chamber door opened; he leaped inside and pulled the wardrobe shut, leaving only the tiniest of cracks to see through.
It was Salvor, followed by two of his personal servants. Folly, folly, folly! Geret swore silently. The annoying young nobleman was supposed to be away all morning, according to the stable hands Geret had talked to earlier. The description of the stolen sword’s hilt and pommel matched those of the blade on Salvor’s belt. What arrogance. And why didn’t I think he might be wearing it, if he’s bold enough to steal it? I have to adapt faster.
Salvor’s sleek black hair shone in its long braid as he bent over and retrieved a sword box from the bottom of his bed frame. But when he opened it, it wasn’t to put the blade away; the box was already full. And what was inside wasn’t a weapon at all. Geret tucked the incident away for later, resolving to find a better way to retrieve the sword from Salvor.
Once the coast was clear, Geret escaped the Thelios household and returned to the palace. He had used up one day; only two remained.
Lying in bed that night, he hatched his newest plan.