The Kinoh House stood on the riverbank, on a deserted stretch a few miles away from the main town. Away from the never-ending festive clamour of inner Ibanborah, it was an unlikely oasis of peace within the borders of the perpetually euphoric party-town.
The back of the old villa looked out over the sparkling waters of Shona, while the front led out into a little grove of eucalyptus trees in full bloom that painted the surroundings in varying shades of pink and cream. It was mesmerising, and unlike anything Ruban had ever seen in Ragah. It reminded him a little of Surai – what Surai would look like if it were to be reproduced on the sets of a movie. A movie with very good production values at that.
He had vague memories of the place from the occasional visit with his father in the early years of childhood. But most of those consisted of a younger (and grubbier) Ruban chasing squirrels in the garden while Baba yelled at him from one of the upper floors to ‘get inside and get changed, right now young man!’
“It’s locked,” Ashwin said, tugging at the artistically grilled front gate. “Won’t give. Now what?”
“Are there any guards?” Ruban asked, looking around the perimeter of the fence as his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness. The two lamps mounted on opposite ends of the surrounding wall provided some light, but not enough to allow much clarity of vision. Ruban had a torch but didn’t dare switch it on for fear of alerting any sentries on the premises. Not that there appeared to be any.
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“Not that I can see. Doesn’t look like the kind of place that’d have guards, does it?” the Aeriel said, fingers running delicately over the sides of the main gate. Sliding his fingers between the grills, he rattled them lightly together. “I could break this open if you want.”
Ruban glared at him through narrowed eyes. “Can you do anything in a way that doesn’t draw attention to yourself?” Planting one foot on the lowest grill, he wrapped his fingers around the top of the gate and hauled himself over to the other side of the fence. “Just scale the damn thing and get over here. We don’t have much time.”
Once they were both safely inside the premises of the villa, Ruban walked up to the main building and tried the door. “Locked again.”
“Did you expect anything else?”
“I s’pose not,” the Hunter sighed. “We can get in through the balcony at the back of the house. Just hope to God the pipes are still as sturdy as they used to be when I was a kid.”
“We could do that. Or I could just fly us up to the balcony and into the house the easy way.”
“No,” Ruban growled.
Ashwin shrugged. “As you wish. Nothing to me if you break your back trying to climb old pipes you last scaled as a seven-year-old. You do realise you’ve gained some weight since then, don’t you?”
Ruban hesitated. “What if someone sees us?”
“Who would? This place is as deserted as a graveyard.”
“There might be people out by the river. Someone we missed on the way over.”
Ashwin rolled his eyes. “Who cares? Even if some lone drunkard loitering on the bank at this time of night did manage to see us, who’d believe him? Stop making excuses Ruban. You’re just afraid of flying. Admit it.”
“I most certainly am not.”
“Prove it then.”
“Fine. You can fly us up to the balcony,” he ground out through gritted teeth.
“I’m honoured,” Ashwin said, deadpan, silver wings materialising against the dark night sky like moonlight solidified.