Jade Mouse

Chapter 7

The map moved several times that morning, first to the library, then back to the exercise hall, and then finally finding a temporary home on the dining room table. It seemed like quite an important object suddenly, being the source of the first real revelation we'd had concerning these thefts, and I wanted to keep it somewhere that I could see it . . . perhaps stare at it long enough for another insight to happen along.

After getting far less sleep than was healthy, I found myself once again looking at the map, eyes lingering over the tented bits of colored paper, each bearing hand-written details of what it was meant to represent.

I heard the clack of a cup hitting a saucer and I looked up. I saw Cyrus, and realized that he'd seated himself at the table without me noticing. It probably hadn't been hard – I was sleep deprived, I was sneezing miserably, and I had the beginnings of a truly alarming cough. That, and I hadn't had nearly enough tea yet.

“Well Cyrus, what do you figure?” I asked, reaching for my own cup and bringing it to my lips. It was empty, I remembered, like it had been the last two times I'd performed that gesture. I pretended to drain my cup with a loud sip so that I wouldn't look stupid, putting it back down carefully on the saucer.

“Figure, Milord? Well, the first thing we should probably do is either get you back into bed for a few more hours or get some more tea in you, as you appear to believe yourself capable of drinking air,” he smirked. “That can't be a good sign.”

“Oh hush. You've never been distracted, I suppose? No, what I mean is, what is our plan for this evening? We've got a few options open to us, now that we have some idea regarding what will happen next. What other things do we need to consider?”

“Well Milord, the attempt may happen tonight, but then it may happen tomorrow night or the evening after as well. I'm assuming you'll be out there again, like last night?”

“Ye-aaablchoo!” I sneezed, practically hitting myself in the face with the napkin I held. I sniffed. “Yes, I will . . . provided I can get some herbs for this chill I've got. Wouldn't exactly be a good thing if I sneezed and got noticed by Blackstaag's knights. Again. I'm also thinking that a certain other Lord wishes to accompany me tonight. We'll split up to cover more ground, monitor things from both sides. Speaking of, how are you at scuttling from rooftop to rooftop?”

“Dreadful,” Cyrus admitted, making a face. “I think it would be very wise if I were to find some other way to be helpful.”

He was honest, though sometimes his own modesty about such matters cast doubt on the validity of his admissions. I'd once asked him if he knew how to play roc'la, and he'd responded by indicating that he could play “tolerably well”. It wasn't until later that I learned he occasionally played in tournaments down at the great library, and had a fearsome reputation among some of the scholars who had all but made a career of the pastime.

Still, if he used the word “dreadful” to describe his skulking ability, I'd do well to believe it. I had no doubt he'd attempt a spot of climbing if I asked him to, but his choice of words clearly indicated he thought the idea ill-advised.

“Well, there's always holding down the keep, watching over the rest of the things in the vault. We're still guessing at this point, and those other Lords haven't just gone away just because I've been stolen from - we're probably just as likely to be broken into tonight as we were any other night this week. There's lots of things to keep busy with, though it won't be as glamorous as . . . well . . .”

“Standing in the rain?” Cyrus said with mock helpfulness.

“Is it still raining? Gods, I thought it'd be done by now. On top of everything else I've-”