Taking the owners’ stairs would expose him as much as following Ject up the public stairs, so he descends to the entry hall and heads for the service hallway. The tower guards give him dirty looks. As Ject goes, so do they. There’s no point in reminding them that the city expects they will do their duty. He looks forward to the moment when they, like the rest of the guards, are under his command.
Herse closes the door behind him and, using a key copied long ago, enters the closet that serves as the tower’s armory. He selects a dirk, a crossbow, and a half-dozen bolts, makes sure the hallway’s clear, relocks the door, and runs to the servants’ stair.
Above the company floors Ject finds a locked door. He sends Oftly to the cook, who sends him to the tower seneschal, who has much to do, so much to do.
“I have much to do,” the seneschal says as Oftly releases him in front of Ject like a cat presenting a rat.
“The door,” Ject says. “And any above.”
“Why?”
“Guard business.”
The man produces an enormous key ring with dozens of keys. He considers each slowly then flips it over the top of the ring. He says, “I thought you’d come to investigate the thefts we’ve suffered.”
“What thefts?” Ject says.
“Meat. Drink. Two nights ago. I had to beat a scullery. Do you know what our tower contract costs? How are we to make a profit—”
“How much meat?”
“Two roasts. A belly.” Another key flips over. “The meat was shifted to disguise their disappearance, but I knew.”
Is that enough for a dragon? Ject thinks. Do dragons steal? Could the dragon have an ally, some misguided girl who thinks it’s her friend? He should speak with the scullery. For the moment: “Open the door, and I’ll look into it.”
“What assurance do I have?” Another key flips.
“What assurance do your ledgers provide that you didn’t steal the meat yourself?”
“Perfect assurance,” the seneschal says. “Ah, here it is.” He fits a key into the lock.
Herse reaches the door leading to the unused portions of the tower. The lock’s already been forced, then rigged to appear not so. It opens on darkness. He’s pulling a candle from a sconce on the wall when a face appears below.
“You can’t go up there,” the scullery says.
Herse can see down her ratty tunic. Her bony chest is covered with bruises. He says, “The cook beat you?”
“That’s the seneschal’s privilege. He said I was a thief.”
“Are you?”
“Does it matter?” the scullery says. “If you go up there he’ll blame me. And for the lock.”
“Did you break it?”
“No,” she says. “I found it that way two days ago. He’ll send me to a whorehouse to work off the damages.”
There will come a time very soon . . . how often has he thought that? He would ask her why a scullery was all the way up here, but her puffy eyes tell that story. In the meantime, he can do something to help her.
He takes the crossbow from the shadows and smashes the lock with the butt of the stock until something snaps inside and the door swings free. “There, I did it.”
The scullery smiles with her remaining teeth. She’s never had a hero before.
Herse says, “Do you have a candle I could borrow?”
The scullery rummages through the pockets of her apron and comes up with a tallow stub. She lights it with a sconce and hands it, quivering, to him. He makes sure to touch her finger lightly as he takes it. Her hand shakes more.
“I’ll return this soon,” Herse says. “Don’t let anyone know I’m up here.”
The public stairs twist through ten stories of musty spaces filled with forgotten storage and touched for years only by the yellow glow seeping through the canvas-covered windows and the rats peering out of every corner. These would make wonderful apartments if the councilors and shipowners would allow someone above them.
Near the top Ject realizes the rats are keeping to the lower floors. Ravis notices this too. “That’s a good sign, I suppose.”
Ject says, “It’s a bad day when finding a dragon is good.”
“A what?” the seneschal says. “So much to do. So much. You can find your own way.” He bobs down the stairs.
Indeed, how dramatic it would be to find the dragon here, Ject thinks. They’d call it the Dragon Tower ever after, and war would be forestalled.
Of course he would have to do something about the dragon before it did something about them, and that would be dramatic enough to elevate him above Herse. How could a nimble hip compete with a dragon slayer? How could a liar compete with a new Hero of Hanosh? And Herse would have been so close to getting his war too. The wave rises, the wave falls.
“Load your weapons,” Ject says. The crossbows make an eerie straining in the echoing stairs.