CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Stolen

E VERY NIGHT I RETIRED to my tiny garret room in Anker’s. Then I would lock the door, climb out the window, and slip into either Wil or Sim’s room, depending on who was keeping first watch over me that night.

Bad as things were, I knew they would become infinitely worse if Ambrose realized I was the one who had broken into his rooms. While my injuries were healing, they were still more than enough to incriminate me. So I worked hard to keep up the appearance of normality.

Thus it was that late one night, I trudged into Anker’s with all the nimble vigor of a shamble-man. I made a weak attempt at small talk with Anker’s new serving girl, then grabbed half a loaf of bread before disappearing up the stairs.

A minute later I was back in the taproom. I was covered in a panicked sweat, my heart was thundering in my ears.

The girl looked up. “You change your mind about that drink then?” she smiled.

I shook my head so quickly my hair whipped around my face. “Did I leave my lute down here last night after I finished playing?” I asked frantically.

She shook her head. “You carried it off, same as always. Remember I asked if you needed a bit of string to hold the case together?”

I darted back up the steps, quick as a fish. Then was back again in less than a minute. “Are you sure?” I asked, breathing hard. “Could you look behind the bar, just to be sure?”

She looked, but the lute wasn’t there. It wasn’t in the pantry either. Or the kitchen.

I climbed the stairs and opened the door to my tiny room. There weren’t many places a lute case could fit in a room that size. It wasn’t under the bed. It wasn’t leaning on the wall next to my small desk. It wasn’t behind the door.

The lute case was too large to fit in the old trunk by the foot of the bed. But I looked anyway. It wasn’t in the trunk. I looked under the bed again, just to be sure. It wasn’t under the bed.

Then I looked at the window. At the simple latch I kept well-oiled so I could trip it while standing on the roof outside.

I looked behind the door again. The lute wasn’t behind the door. Then I sat on the bed. If I had been weary before, then I was something else entirely now. I felt like I was made of wet paper. I felt like I could barely breathe, like someone had stolen my heart out of my chest.

Date: 2015-02-03; view: 672