With Ehomba still leading, they took turns crawling through. The drain opened into a grooved, stone-faced flood-control channel that ran the length of a spacious courtyard. Thus concealed below ground level, they were able to approach close to the back of the keep itself without being seen.
Approaching whistling forced them to halt, trapped with little more than the shadow of the building for cover. If they were discovered here, inside the main wall but outside the keep, they would have no choice but to retreat back the way they had come, knowing that the castle’s defenders would subsequently be alert to any further encroachment and thereby making a renewed intrusion far more difficult. The whistling intensified and grew nearer. Simna silently removed his knife from his belt, only to have Ehomba put one hand on the swordsman’s wrist and a long finger to his lips.
Around the corner sauntered a member of the household staff. Enjoying the windless, invigorating night air and oblivious to his immediate surroundings, he was on his way to work in the castle scullery when he blundered into the travelers. Stepping forward in a single stride, Ehomba put his right forearm around the man’s neck and pulled, lifting and squeezing at the same time. In utter silence, the startled kitchen aide reached up with both hands to claw at his assailant’s forearm. His eyes bulged and his lips worked, but, devoid of air from his lungs, no sound emerged.
Slowly, as if he were falling into a deep and gentle sleep, his eyes closed and his flailing hands and twitching body went limp. Without ever removing his forearm from the man’s neck, Ehomba gently lowered him to the ground. Simna stepped forward to whisper admiringly.