“That’s a fine move for a peaceful herdsman to know.”
“Sometimes it is necessary to restrain a frolicsome calf from hurting itself.” Almost invisible in the shadows, Ehomba moved forward, his sandals barely whispering across the courtyard flagstones. “There was no reason to kill him. He will sleep until morning and wake with nothing worse than a sore throat.”
A grinning Simna silently sheathed his knife. “It’s a kindly invader you are, long bruther. If all my adversaries were as considerate as you, I’d have fewer scars in embarrassing places.”
“So you would if you had led a more restrained life.” Finding a wooden door, the herdsman tried the iron latch. It opened at a touch, with an agreeable absence of noise.
They were in.
It was a storeroom of some kind, piled high with crates and containers of household goods. Though virtually pitch-black inside, there was among their company one for whom poor light and even the near absence thereof posed no obstacle. Following close behind Ahlitah, they made their way through the storeroom and into a hall beyond.
“Unless the interior layout of this pile is utterly different from every palace I’ve ever been in, there should be some kind of central chamber or meeting place.” Simna gestured forward. Beyond the storeroom, feeble but adequate light filtered in through distant windows and ports, allowing them to advance with greater confidence. Once again Ehomba took the lead.
Sounds drifted down to them from the upper reaches of the fortress, but they were isolated and few. This late at night and this early in the morning, few denizens of the castle were stirring. Guards patrolled the main gates and outer wall, not the interior living quarters. Ehomba was concerned about the possibility of encountering free-roaming dogs but, oddly, none were about. Despite his interminable curiosity it was, however, a problem to which he could at the moment devote but little thought.