The Upper Ward was the nicest area of Ryk that citizens without noble blood could live in. Brick and stone townhouses lined the streets to form a square u-shape around a well tended walking park. Workers kept the bushes trimmed and the leaves cleared.

Keyla knew that the townhouses would have small walled-off back yard spaces with an alley between the backs of the townhouses, as the Upper Ward consisted of two main u-shaped streets, one inside the other.

The trees were the most beautiful Keyla had ever seen. Never having been to the Noble’s quarter, she couldn’t think of anywhere more green than the Upper Ward. A group of constables strolled along the sidewalk bordering the park, conversing quietly with one another. There were only a handful of other folk about, but nobody paid her any attention

Keyla had ducked into a side alley on her way over to change into the new runner’s clothes she’d acquired from Madame Toussaud’s, and stashed her other clothes in the sack beneath a pile of trash that wasn’t going anywhere soon. She hoped she’d be able to gather them on the way back, but if not these new clothes would do for a time.

She squatted in a small opening between hedges lining one of the streets into the Upper Ward and waited, confident that nobody would notice her unless they specifically tried to look in the bushes. While she waited, she plotted silently.

A runner would be bound to come through this entrance at some point today. She’d try to pickpocket him or her for a letter so that she could pose as a runner herself. If that didn’t work she’d have to think fast, perhaps barter with them if she were caught, or find a way to fake a letter herself.

Hours passed and her mind had long wandered to other things when a young boy no more than eight years old came jogging by.

Keyla remained crouched but moved swiftly to match his pace behind him. She’d learned early on that matching the footsteps of her targets helped her avoid notice.

Fortunately for her, the boy’s pockets had multiple missives jutting out from them, and she was easily able to pinch the corner of one, pulling it free as she slowed down to a walk behind him.

He hadn’t noticed her. Excellent!

She glanced down at the wax seal. She didn’t recognize the symbol there, but that wasn’t surprising. She was as familiar as any other citizen with a handful of prominent names in Ryk, but largely didn’t give much thought to the upper class. The name on the front read “Alcorn”.

It would have to do.

She turned to her right and approached the first townhouse she saw. It was mostly a red brick color, contrasted by gray stone and a more tan brick from the townhouses to either side.

She walked up the three steps to the front door and smacked the knocker ball three times against it’s brass disk.

The door opened a crack and she saw the weathered face of a thin, unpleasant looking man in a suit. He didn’t speak, but stared at her.

“I’ve a letter for the Teknar house, sir,” Keyla said, doing her best to sound young.

“Wrong house, wretch,” the man said with a snarl and slammed the door.

Red brick, fourth house in on the right, bit of an arse. Noted.

She skipped the next house and approached a gray stone facade with a much darker wood door. As she knocked, she could hear the squeals of children inside.

“Yes?”

A plump but jolly maid opened the door, and beyond her were a boy and girl wrestling over a doll. It looked like the girl was fighting fiercely to take it back from the boy. They stopped when Keyla spoke to look at her with curious eyes.

“A missive for the Teknar house, miss,” Keyla said.

“Oh deary, you’ve the wrong address. They’re three more houses down, just there,” the maid responded, leaning out the door to point at a home with mixed bricks of brown and tan.

“Nuh-uh,” she heard the boy say in response to whatever the little girl had said while the maid was talking. She glanced past the older woman to see the young girl pointing at her.

They both looked away when they noticed her gaze.

“Thank you ma’am”, Keyla said, turning to head down the steps.

“You have a pleasant day now, dear.”

“Yes huh! She looks just like her!” She heard the little girl say as the door closed.

Shaking her head Keyla tried to refocus as she walked. Knowing which house belonged to the Teknar family made her job more real than it had seemed the previous day. Her hands began to tremble slightly as she approached the front door.

She didn’t knock right away. Instead she paused for a moment at the front of the walkway and counted the windows.

A window on either side of the front entry. So, probably like most of these homes, there is probably a central walkway with stairs, and rooms to either side.

There were sets of three windows on each of the two stories above the first.

They probably don’t lock the second and third story windows, but could I even reach them? I’ll have to swing around back on my way out of here if I can, and see what the back entrance looks like.

As she walked up the steps to the front door, she was pleased to see that the lock was similar to the one at Madame Toussaud’s. She’d probably be able to work it open in roughly the same amount of time, but there was no way she wouldn’t be noticed. There were gas lamps coming out of the brick on either side of the door, and at the front gate to the walkway. She’d be illuminated and the patrol would notice her before she’d be able to open the lock.

She listened from outside the door but didn’t hear any sounds. Either the family was out, or they may not have any children. Keyla knocked.

The door opened and an impossibly thin, gaunt man with graying hair glanced down at her with a small smile.

“Yes, child?”

“Oh, yes, um,” Keyla stammered, using her nervousness to let her eyes dart around in the house behind the man before turning to his. A staircase was behind him to the right, proving her theory on the layout correct. “Sorry, yes, I was looking for the Alcorn house but I seem to have been mixed up.”

The man pushed his lips out in thought and then frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t know any Alcorn family. They certainly don’t live in this street, but it’s likely they don’t even live here in the Upper Ward.”

Keyla’s heart was beating loud enough she wondered if he could hear it. She forced her shoulders to drop in what she hoped looked like disappointment.

“I see, I’m sorry sir, the runner boy who gave me the letter said they were on this street,” she said, taking one more glance behind him as she let her eyes fall to the ground. “I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Not without this, you won’t,” he said, holding out his hand and dropping a copper into hers.

She looked up, surprised.

“If the Alcorn’s aren’t in the Upper Ward, I’m afraid you’ve been had. You probably have quite the run ahead of you, and may miss out on another delivery. Keep that tip to make up for it.”

“I, th-thank you,” Keyla stammered. She’d never been given money out of kindness before.

The man smiled. “Good luck to you, child.” He closed the door.

Keyla stood for a moment, stunned at the coin in her hand. It would buy her a muffin or something small, wouldn’t it?

She pocketed the copper and resumed her walk along the street until it turned and the row of townhouses came to a stop. The gap between them led to the back alley, and Keyla pretended to look at the letter while she glanced to make sure the constables weren’t looking. When she saw their backs to her, she darted into the alley and made her way around the townhouses.

She counted until she saw the familiar brown and tan brick that marked the Teknar house. A low fence that came up to her shoulders enclosed a small backyard.

There were potted bushes and a small tree to the right side. Then se saw the dog.

It looked up at her from where it lay beside the back steps and began to growl softly.

Narn damn it! How would she get past the mutt?

She glanced up at the door and saw it had the same locking mechanism as the front door, but that hope was quickly snuffed out when the dog began to bark.

She startled back a step, and turned to run.

|||||||||||||||

Keyla returned to the Upper Ward that night. She’d stolen a mutton chop earlier and, after eating half of it for her dinner, decided to try and buy herself into the dog’s good graces with an offering of meat.

She had never been inside a townhouse before, and while she suspected a family as rich as this would have a room dedicated only to books, she wasn’t sure where the library would be.

Or would the Teknar man keep the Diary on his person, by his bed, or locked away in a safe somewhere? She would have to be in the house for an indeterminate amount of time, a thought which made her stomach clench.

There was no easy way to see the layout of the house until she was inside. She wasn’t worried about the lock on the back door, but the dog was an unfortunate obstacle.

She waited until the street watchers on patrol turned the far corner of the park before she darted from shadow to shadow. The gas street lamps were bright but their light didn’t pierce far before it diminished significantly.

Keyla had a natural talent for moving through shadows. She figured it was her forgettable body language and simply the strong desire not to be seen that made it easier at night.

She considered the townhouse as she walked down the alley toward it. She stayed crouched near the fences, shrouded in shadow from the sconces near the doors, and other light coming out of the windows.

Hopefully there wouldn’t be a basement. Three floors was plenty enough to search.

Potted bushes, trimmed hedges, and small trees adorned each of the back yard areas she passed, similar to the Teknar yard.

When she arrived, she stood slowly. The lights to either side of the back door were light, but the first floor windows were dark. Light came from the second floor window on the right, and all of the third floor windows.

The black hound noticed her immediately and lifted his head, letting out a low, quiet growl.

“Nice dog, who’s a a good boy?” she asked softly.

He bared his teeth.

“Not you, apparently,” she mumbled. Keyla tossed the mutton over the fence, watching it tumble over the cobblestone a few feet from the dog.

The growling stopped and he regarded it, then her, suspiciously.

“Eat up, dog. I ate some, it was good,” she said as casually as she could. She knew dogs didn’t understand humans, but the few strays she’d interacted with over the years taught her that calm sounds usually worked better. They seemed to sense fear.

She watched as the dog cast its gaze upon the meet once more, and smiled when she saw him lick his lips.

“It’s ok,” she continued.

The dog rose up and walked forward slowly, and growled softly again when he reached the meat. He regarded her one more time and must have accepted what he saw because he sat down and tore into the meat.

“I’ll see you again tomorrow night, you be a good boy,” Keyla said softly to him.

He ignored her.

She backed up to the fence across the alley and sat down, resting her back against it, to watch for when each of the lights dimmed in the windows above.

If they go out around the same time each night, she’d know when the best time to enter was.

Each of her nights for the next week were spent in this way. She would steal meat for dinner, eat some of it, and then bring the rest to Shadow. She’d named the dog Shadow for his black coat, and the fact that she really only saw him at night.

During the day she would practice on the makeshift lock she’d created to mimic the lock on the Teknar’s back door. It was similar to the one at Madame Toussaud’s, and she had recreated that mechanism over a year ago. She stored it near the front entrance to Auldavulin’s, inside an empty copper still. Each day after waking she would take it out and practice until she could consistently open it within half a minute. Hopefully she could get even faster before attempting her break-in.

At night she would count the seconds for Shadow to eat the meat. She couldn’t guarantee the same size chunk each night as she was simply grabbing whatever she could get away with, and was visiting a different butcher each time. He never took longer than a minute to finish, but often was quicker.

By the fifth night the dog had caught on to her pattern. He perked up and no longer growled when she arrived. He even would let her hop the fence and toss the meat nearby, but would start growling if she got much closer.

On the seventh night, Shadow didn’t growl at all. She approached him and placed the meat at his feet. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and it looked like he smiled before he lowered his head and dug into the meat shank. He’d devoured it in half a minute.

When the time came, she hoped she’d be able to pick the lock and slip in before he finished.

The morning of the eighth day Keyla was surprised when a runner approached her while she was out walking.

She’d memorized three different routes she could take to and from the Upper Ward, and walked a different one each day to time them.

The boy handed her the letter, then ran off before she could ask him who it was from.

It was the priest’s handwriting. He was becoming nervous about the Diary being in the city, and had heard rumors of secret nighttime meetings between individuals who didn’t normally associate with one another.

Keyla wasn’t sure what that had to do with anything, but the next line was clear. She had until tomorrow to deliver Margaan’s Diary if she wanted the full amount in the coinpurse.

Keyla sighed and stuffed the missive into her pocket. Looking at the city before her, she took a deep breath to steel herself.

Tonight would be the night.