Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #14 May 2015 | Page 46

area. The main stretch of the northern wall was visible from this vantage point, which meant any on it
might see him in return. He shuffled behind a stone
chimney and peered out from around it until he got
his bearings. Moving from chimney to abutment to
chimney, he made his way across the roof, careful
not to dislodge further tiles and send any crashing
to the courtyards below.

When he reached the north western tower, Khellus
crept along the curving wall until he spotted another
balcony some fifteen feet above. While the tower
had been mastercrafted, no doubt, time had weathered it, leaving plenty of chinks and gaps in the
stone. Using these, Khellus wove his way back up.
He prayed the guards would be fixed on the possibility of external threats and not turn their gazes
inward at an inopportune moment.

He reached the balcony and latched onto the railing.
Easing upwards, he peered over the edge. Through
the smoke-glass doors, the room beyond appeared
empty. He swung a leg up and over, and then gained
his footing to stand firm.

The room — simple quarters with a bed, armoire,
and wash basin — did indeed remain dark and void
of any threats. He went to the door and opened it
slightly to peek out. A dim hall curved away in both
directions. Nobody in sight, though the occasional tapestry and painted portrait added a splash of
colour to the muted decor. After waiting and listening for a couple minutes, Khellus emerged and
followed the hall until it came to stairs going both
up and down.

As he debated which way, voices floated down
from the upper landing. He retreated into an alcove
inhabited by a life-sized statue of a soldier in full
battle regalia. From this hiding spot, he listened as
two people made their way past.

“Don’t understand it,” came a woman’s voice.

“Sometimes the master is ravenous enough to gnaw
a gruckbelly to gristle. Other times he don’t eat for
what seems like weeks. Where’s he pack it away?”

“Hush,” said a man. “Don’t be speaking ill of Lord
Asmoran. Every noble’s odd in their own way, and
if his diet’s the strangest thing we’ve to manage,
we’re on the good side of fate to serve him. Take
the platter down to the hall and leave it to cool. If
the master changes his mind, he’ll go down to eat
when he’s right and ready.”

Their voices and footsteps faded, and a scent of
roasted duck lingered in their wake. Khellus came
out from behind the statue and headed up the stairs.
Three flights higher, and he came out on a level with plush carpets and warmer lights burning
along the walls. Marble busts sat on pedestals that
lined the main hall up to a massive set of oak double-doors.

The lack of guards surprised Khellus, but he supposed guards would’ve been posted at lower entrances and stairways, with no one expecting a
person to enter via a balcony halfway up the tower.

He paced over and lifted a latch. The door swung
on oiled hinges, and he pushed it open just wide
enough to sidle inside, and then let it softly click
shut again. He stood in a well-lit sitting room with
richly embroidered chairs, settees, and side tables.
Sculptures and paintings crowded the walls, interspersed with antiquated armour fixtures. Three
darkened thresholds all led off from this first room,
and Khellus inspected the closest first. It held a
bedroom, with an enormous canopied feather bed.
No one slept in it, as of yet. The next contained an
opulent washroom, complete with an entire wall
made of mirrors.

As he approached the third, Khellus drew his
swords. A scritching noise caught his ear as he
neared. Entering this room, he noted two more