He turned and saw that the hallway led into pitch darkness. He could barely see the handle to the first door on the right, the one that would provide a window view of the city street. He opened the door and saw the room in the dim light of the grey morning.
The room was empty save for some rags and a few shards of broken crockery. Roo walked to the window and looked out. In the morning gloom he saw the doorway of Barret’s. A thrill ran through Roo and he put his hand out and touched the wall.
He held motionless as the sun rose in the east, until at last the street below him filled with citizens of the city about for the day. The noise of the quickly building throng below robbed him of the secret quiet he had taken for himself, and he resented it for that.
He moved quickly through the other rooms, curiosity making him want to know every inch of the town house. He discovered a master suite in the rear, several other rooms, a garderobe, and a rear servants’ stairway. A third floor seemed equally divided between a storage area and what might pass as a workspace for the servants; at least, there were shreds of fine clothing and a thimble to convince Roo he had found where the lady of the house had once met with her seamstress.
Roo worked his way through the house, and when he was done, he left with a twinge of regret. He closed the door behind him and promised himself that he would return someday as the owner.
As he reached the center of the street, he realized he was holding a small shred of cloth. He examined it. It was a faded piece of once-fine silk, now yellowed by age and dirt. Without understanding quite why, he slipped it inside his tunic and moved past the doorway to Barret’s.
The doors swung open as he passed through the side Street and he knew he was late. He should have been among those opening the coffee house.
Roo returned to his quarters, put on his apron, and hurried to the kitchen, where he slipped in with the other waiters without attracting attention. Duncan had not stirred for a moment and the silk was still safe below the stairway.
Roo knew it would be a long day until he was free in the evening and could embark on making his fortune.
Duncan found him during his lunch break. Roo moved into the rear courtyard of the coffee house and said, “What is it?”
“It’s less than diverting sitting in that cramped loft, cousin. Maybe I could be about seeing if there’s a buyer for—”
A warning glance from Roo silenced him. “I have plans already. If you really want to get something done, return to the house across the way and inspect the wagon. Let me know what you think we need to repair the traces. You’re no teamster, but you’ve been around enough wagons to have some sense of it. If we need to buy new leathers, let me know. And if we can repair what’s there, so much the better.”
“Then what?” asked Duncan.
Roo reached into his tunic and pulled out the gold piece he had acquired from McKeller the day before. “Get something to eat, then buy what we need to refit the wagon. I need enough for two animals.”
“Why?” said Duncan. “That won’t buy what we need and get us horses. Besides, what are we going to haul?”
Roo said, “I have a plan.”
Duncan shook his head. “Your plans seem to lead nowhere, cousin.” Roo’s features clouded and he was about to say something in anger, but Duncan said, “Still, it’s your gold and I’ve nothing better to do.” His smile caused Roo’s anger to flee before it was fully formed. Duncan’s roguish ways always brought a smile to his lips.
“Get on with you,” said Roo. “One of us has to work for a living.”
Roo returned to the kitchen as he was due to return to the floor, and he regretted he had spent his few free moments talking with Duncan rather than grabbing a bite to eat, as was the purpose of the break. Suddenly he was hungry and that only made the day pass even more slowly.
“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” asked Duncan.
Roo said, “No, but I can’t think of anything else to try.” He adjusted the end of the silk bolt he carried under his arm.
They stood before a modest home, located as far from Barret’s as one could live without leaving the Merchants’ Quarter. Duncan carried the other end of the long bolt of silk, still wrapped in canvas and linen, and glanced around. They were not in a particularly rough part of town, but it wasn’t a completely safe area, either. Only one street over, a traveler would find the homes less cared for, occupied by working families, often several to a dwelling, four or five people living in a room. Roo shook his head as he realized this house was totally in keeping with what he would expect from Helmut Grindle.
Roo knocked on the door.
After a minute, a woman’s voice said, “Who is it?”
Roo said, “My name is Rupert Avery and I seek Helmut Grindle, a merchant with whom I am acquainted.”
A cleverly hidden peephole opened in the door—Roo noticed it only because of a tiny glint of light—then, after a moment, the door opened.