The Legend of Asahiel: Book 02 - The Obsidian Key by Eldon Thompson Page A

coal stove, but relied for the most part on the flush of drink and activity to keep its patrons warm.
    Zain’s soft-soled leathers made scarcely a sound as he ascended the weathered rungs to reach the platform above. Just as he did so, the light of an oil lamp filled the window nearest him. Zain started and flattened himself against the wall. His heart beat frantically now as he waited for the alarm. But there were no cries, no hustle. Just the quiet rustle of windblown leaves.
    He realized, however, that he could not stay in this position. The lamp was most likely a beacon, a signal for someone who might or might not be entering through the front door. Remain here much longer, and he would certainly be exposed.
    He skittered like a roach from the revealing signal light, until he reached the corner of the building and had followed the balcony in wrapping around its side.
    The commander paused. He needed to get closer to that room, yet dared not do so by sneaking inside. But the Hive had two kinds of rooms. Those that offered absolute privacy were located in the cellar. These lacked windows of any sort, and no doubt had an escape route of their own. Zain, however, had always preferred the upstairs rooms, which had windows in the walls and in the ceiling.
    Leaping from the rail to catch the edge of the gabled roof, Zain hoisted himself as quickly and noiselessly as he could manage atop the slanted bed of shingles. Keeping to the front side of the building, opposite the slope on which the lighted window was found, he rolled patiently and quietly toward the far end. Leaves and needles clung to his clothes, and, along with a layer of moss, helped to cushion his approach. The boards beneath creaked, but not so loudly as to be a concern, especially when he believed the rooms below to be empty. Once he’d gone about two-thirds of the way over, and had aligned himself with where he thought his target on the other side to be, he settled onto his stomach and crawled carefully toward the peak.
    He missed his target by a dozen paces, and was glad that he did. For just before he crested the roof’s peak, a dark shape alighted at the very spot for which he’d been heading. It did so almost like a bird: weightless, soundless. Zain froze, chilled from the inside out. A window entry he had anticipated. But what manner of unsavory character descended upon his cohorts through the roof?
    The commander held his breath as the cloaked shadow figure turned its cowled head from side to side. Then it held perfectly still, and Zain feared he’d been spotted. An unnatural dread filled his gut, coring him like an apple. Had he not lost his capacity to move, he might have fled.
    With a muffled crunch of shattering glass and splintering wood, the shadow thing disappeared. As soon as it had gone, Zain’s terror lifted, and he scrambled forward to see what had become of it. In truth, he already knew, else he’d not have dared to pursue.
    Along the rear side of the building, one for each room, were a line of eyebrow arches in the roof plane. Faint light spilled from only one of these—the one in which the window had been broken and the shadow had gone.
    There was a deep, flustered cry—Faldron’s, he was sure—before the lightflicked out. What could explain that? Perhaps they’d gone to another room. But no, the light had died suddenly, as if extinguished. Besides, he could still hear Faldron’s voice, quieter now, but there just the same. Perhaps the shadowy newcomer insisted upon absolute darkness in which to conduct its affairs.
    Zain’s dread fascination grew.
    That fascination, however, did not warrant a potentially bloody encounter with whatever creature—man, woman, or beast—Faldron had called upon this night. While inching closer to the open dormer window, Zain made sure to shield his body behind the adjacent arch, avoiding the area beneath which the conspirators held their council—so that the crunch of his movements would not be