absent.
Dane Eyrris’ unique scent stood out clearly still even at
this distance, and she heard his relaxed breathing and the creaking
of leather and the clinking of glass as he shifted his weight now
and again. She remained listening for one more prayer as Dane
Eyrris slowly drank himself to sleep; a ritual he had observed and
which she had witnessed, the past two nights. And when she heard
the heavy, regular breathing begin, she knew that Dane Eyrris had
finally passed out. She stood and shook her legs, which were
cramped and tight from sitting so long, to get the blood flowing
and prime them for her work.
Outside in the street below, the chaos of the nights
reveling was more muted, most people’s carnal desires having
been fulfilled, at least for now. As she stepped up to the roof’s edge
and propelled herself out into space, she had a shiver of
apprehension run through her at the thought of where she was
about to tread.
She caught the top edge of Eyrris’ estate roof and angled
her body to hug the outside wall, her feet finding purchase against
the rough plaster and chipped paint. She knew as soon as her toes
touched the surface of the wall that she needed to be careful not to
move too quickly, lest she displace too much faded paint, cracked
and loose from sojourns of neglect.
She reached out with nimble fingers and found the
window latch, exactly where her bubble had revealed it to be,
deftly flipping it open and quietly moving it aside. She sniffed the
air around the latch softly, but smelled nothing out of the ordinary.
She smelled and felt no rust on the hinges, but no oil either. She
was being more cautious that usual, but she had only observed the
mark for two nights, and had not had the chance to get close
enough to know if the window would squeal when she opened it,
giving her away. But she was prepared for the possibility
nonetheless, and reached into the pocket of her pants.
She pulled out a small jar, removed the stopper with her
teeth and wedged the jar in the space between the latch handle and
the glass. She took a small dollop of grease from inside and
smeared it on her fingers, applying it first to the latch and then for
good measure around the edges of the hinges. She wiped her
fingers, replaced the stopper in the jar and slid it back into her
pants. She splayed her right palm against the pockmarked glass,
and pushed lightly.
The resistance to her force was slight, and then gave in
with a puff of air. She winced at the noise, but then relaxed when
no alarm was raised inside. The hardest thing for Catelyn when it
came to being stealthy was not knowing how loud her actions were
to normal ears. Because of her finely honed sense of hearing,
things that would alert her were things most people could only
barely hear.
With her right arm, she eased the window open all the
way, her left arm and legs beginning to quiver with the strain of
keeping herself hanging in place on the sheer wall. Her feet were
sliding down ever so slightly as well, her toes straining with the
effort of keeping her in one spot as she worked on the window. Her
body was giving in to fatigue, and she would fall to a painful and
embarrassing death if she didn’t get inside fast.
She applied all the pressure she could to the window, and
it cantilevered open soundlessly. She resisted the urge to sigh
audibly in relief, and she held tightly to the window frame with
both arms as she slipped her legs slowly, first one and then the
other, from the wall to the lip of the open window frame.
It took all of her strength and flexibility, but finally she
dropped quietly into the house and tightened her bubble to just a
few paces around her. Nothing stood out but the continuous deep
breathing and light snoring of the master of the house, Dane
Eyrris.
Like all of her break-ins, she had tried to plan this
incursion with plenty of time to explore if she wished, something
that she usually took full advantage of, but tonight after the
Dane Eyrris’ unique scent stood out clearly still even at
this distance, and she heard his relaxed breathing and the creaking
of leather and the clinking of glass as he shifted his weight now
and again. She remained listening for one more prayer as Dane
Eyrris slowly drank himself to sleep; a ritual he had observed and
which she had witnessed, the past two nights. And when she heard
the heavy, regular breathing begin, she knew that Dane Eyrris had
finally passed out. She stood and shook her legs, which were
cramped and tight from sitting so long, to get the blood flowing
and prime them for her work.
Outside in the street below, the chaos of the nights
reveling was more muted, most people’s carnal desires having
been fulfilled, at least for now. As she stepped up to the roof’s edge
and propelled herself out into space, she had a shiver of
apprehension run through her at the thought of where she was
about to tread.
She caught the top edge of Eyrris’ estate roof and angled
her body to hug the outside wall, her feet finding purchase against
the rough plaster and chipped paint. She knew as soon as her toes
touched the surface of the wall that she needed to be careful not to
move too quickly, lest she displace too much faded paint, cracked
and loose from sojourns of neglect.
She reached out with nimble fingers and found the
window latch, exactly where her bubble had revealed it to be,
deftly flipping it open and quietly moving it aside. She sniffed the
air around the latch softly, but smelled nothing out of the ordinary.
She smelled and felt no rust on the hinges, but no oil either. She
was being more cautious that usual, but she had only observed the
mark for two nights, and had not had the chance to get close
enough to know if the window would squeal when she opened it,
giving her away. But she was prepared for the possibility
nonetheless, and reached into the pocket of her pants.
She pulled out a small jar, removed the stopper with her
teeth and wedged the jar in the space between the latch handle and
the glass. She took a small dollop of grease from inside and
smeared it on her fingers, applying it first to the latch and then for
good measure around the edges of the hinges. She wiped her
fingers, replaced the stopper in the jar and slid it back into her
pants. She splayed her right palm against the pockmarked glass,
and pushed lightly.
The resistance to her force was slight, and then gave in
with a puff of air. She winced at the noise, but then relaxed when
no alarm was raised inside. The hardest thing for Catelyn when it
came to being stealthy was not knowing how loud her actions were
to normal ears. Because of her finely honed sense of hearing,
things that would alert her were things most people could only
barely hear.
With her right arm, she eased the window open all the
way, her left arm and legs beginning to quiver with the strain of
keeping herself hanging in place on the sheer wall. Her feet were
sliding down ever so slightly as well, her toes straining with the
effort of keeping her in one spot as she worked on the window. Her
body was giving in to fatigue, and she would fall to a painful and
embarrassing death if she didn’t get inside fast.
She applied all the pressure she could to the window, and
it cantilevered open soundlessly. She resisted the urge to sigh
audibly in relief, and she held tightly to the window frame with
both arms as she slipped her legs slowly, first one and then the
other, from the wall to the lip of the open window frame.
It took all of her strength and flexibility, but finally she
dropped quietly into the house and tightened her bubble to just a
few paces around her. Nothing stood out but the continuous deep
breathing and light snoring of the master of the house, Dane
Eyrris.
Like all of her break-ins, she had tried to plan this
incursion with plenty of time to explore if she wished, something
that she usually took full advantage of, but tonight after the
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