Chapter 26 Cat Burglary part 2
The blade of the knife slipped between the door and the jam with ease and I watched as Bartel ran it up the length of the door until he felt something on the other side, nodding to himself he grabbed the blade with both hands and with a quick movement flicked it upward, throwing the door wide and slipping through his hand snatching out and grabbing the bar that had been laid across the door before it could clatter to the ground and make any noise. I blinked in surprise, sure I knew that a skilled person could pick a lock, but I had thought that barring the door would still prevent someone from entering, it would seem as though I was woefully misinformed in that matter…
I followed him through, crouching low as I followed him down the hallway, ears on a constant swivel. Bartel was as silent as a ghost as we crept towards the stairway that would lead us no doubt to the basement, and if we were right straight to a personal prison. Thinking about it that might be why the house was above ground, unlike all the other buildings. It was not because they wanted to show off the grandeur of their estate, though there was likely some of that, it was more because the underground section of the house was used to hold prisoners and the house above was almost like a cover for it.
Bartel leaned around the corner before carefully raising his arm, a soft twang announced the bolt and it was quickly followed by a much to loud thud as a now unconscious man hit the floor, quickly he rounded the corner, “we have about fifteen minut-” he was whispering when another light source came out of a door directly to his right.
“Oy’ Alren you wanna get some drin-” the other man froze as did Bartel. It was almost like time had frozen when I sprang forward, planting my paws on the wall opposite of the man I used my momentum to spring past his right shoulder, making sure my claws were retracted I wrapped my arm around his neck and covered his mouth with my free forepaw. He was much taller than I was, meaning he was practically bent over backward so that I could have my lower paws on the ground still. He struggled, even attempting to bite my paw that was covering his mouth but all he got was a bit of the pad, which admittedly didn't feel too great, but I ignored. It didn't take long for his gargling protests to cease and carefully I lowered his unconscious body to the floor. As I did so Bartel walked over, pulling his dirk he swiped it across the guard’s throat. My eyes widened as the blood ran crimson from the wound dying the man’s white shirt red.
“We got sloppy there,” he whispered as he wiped the blade clean on the man’s own shirt before returning it to the sheath at his belt. He looked at me and shrugged. “Had to be done.”
“She does not understand-” I whispered as I looked back between the dead man and the unconscious one. Why would he kill one and not the other? Why did he spare the first but not the second?
“If he had just seen me then it would have been fine, there are after all thousands of people in this city and my description is not exactly going to single me out,” he pointed his finger at me, “but you, as we said before, you cannot be seen, and don't think for a second she wouldn't have you arrested in a heartbeat if there was any sort of clue leading back to you,” he sighed. “I haven't had to kill in almost five years, we just aren't prepared enough for something like this...” he grabbed the dead man by the shoulders and dragged him back into the room and out of the hallway, leaving a small smear of blood on the wooden floorboards as the trickle of crimson flowed from his throat. “Come one, get the other one,” he sighed. I closed my eyes and breathed in deep, calming my nerves and now roiling stomach, he was right, after all an eyewitness report of being choked out by a Khatan would point the blame back at me…
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Grabbing the big man by the arms I dragged him back, making sure to leave part of his body on the floor to use the fabric of his clothes as an impromptu mop, which worked surprisingly well. “Good job by the way,” he whispered, as he riffled through both men’s clothing, pocketing anything of value both from the living and the dead. I looked over at him and he shrugged, something gold disappearing into the pouch at his waist. “That was good moves choking him out like that, its honestly too bad you are the race you are, it makes you to recognizable.”
I didn't say anything, I don't think I could have, he was right, I knew it, it was the logical solution to the problem, but it didn't feel right. To kill a man whose only crime was seeing me while he was doing his job? It felt like I was the bad guy here, and perhaps at this moment I was…
“Rinmua just wants to get this done,” I whispered, “she wants to be away from here.” he nodded and motioned for me to follow. It didn't take to long for us to get down the basement, and there were no other incidents, only three more unconscious guards and one maid who might have been having a dalliance with another member of the staff if her disheveled appearance and rumpled state of her clothing were anything to go by.
As we had guessed the basement was not normal, the first clue to this was the fact that the door was solid iron, set in deep stones, and instead of a door handle with a key, it looked like it was unlocked by a combination. “Oh fun,” Bartel’s eyes gleamed from out of the mask he wore, “I love doors like this, there's always something behind them that just makes this all worthwhile.” he glanced at me. “Keep an eye out, we only have a few minutes to do this,” he leaned forward and pressed his ear against the door and started rotating the mechanism as he listened to the sounds. I crouched down and watched him out of the corner of my eye as he worked, it was honestly quite impressive, almost like art as he worked the door and guessed out the numbers needed.
There was a soft click as the door released and he leaned on it opening it up into the most opulent room in the house, but also the most depraved…
Inside there were piles of chests and books and ledgers, and behind the riches was a row of cells complete with there own torcher room not too far out of sight.
Half prison half treasury.
Slowly I looked around and room, and watched as Bartel waltzed over to the chests and started prying them open one after another. I, on the other hand, walked past it all, my eyes on one man, one man chained to a wall hanging there limply, the tattered remains of his robes covered in gold moons and archaic symbols. Slowly I walked over to the man that I had once thought of as a friend and crouched down. There was a small sad smile on his now blue lips, one that almost seemed self-loathing.
He had wrapped the chain that held his arm to the wall and had gotten it around his own neck somehow. Glassy eyes stared out at nothing as he hung there, limp.
Tamerian.
I didn't know what I would have done if I had seen him alive when he had left us to our fate I wanted to kill him, but now, seeing him dead, and by his own hand nonetheless, I felt no comfort by it. It didn't bring back my friends, they were dead and gone like he was, and nothing I could do would fix that. I closed my eyes and leaned my head against bars, breathing in softly as I fought down the wave of despair that washed over me. Slowly I felt the despair morph into anger as the one person who had caused all of this burned her way into my mind, that smile of hers as she told us she needed us to do a job.
“She wants to leave,” I turned and looked at Bartel.
“Found some silver if you want a handful,” he said, glancing at the body and setting a trunk down beside me. Inside was around a thousand silver coins, but in my eyes, they might as well been red, paid for with blood. I reached a paw in and grabbed a handful, put them in the pouch at my belt. “Ready?” he asked, hefting the sack of whatever he grabbed over his shoulder, “Its a pretty good haul, even have some rather incriminating stuff here,” I nodded and stood up.
“She is ready...” I said, nodding, somehow, I will make her pay for this, for everything she did to me and others...