Clocks and Locks

Thanks to his foray yesterday in the house of Marche, Martel knew how to make his approach to the duke's study. Before venturing too far from the main hall, making himself suspicious to any guards, he found one of the passageways for servants to move about the mansion unseen. He quickly ducked inside, preparing himself mentally to act and look arrogant should he encounter any actual servants; it was not their place to question a guest of the duke.

Guards were another matter; but he had his magic to use tricks on them, and if they caught him before reaching the study, he would claim to be lost. As long as nobody saw him rifling through the duke's papers.

He did as he had last night. Extinguishing the lamps whenever he needed darkness, using his magic to sense people nearby rather than risk sticking his head out, and causing a distraction when he wanted someone to turn around. The only hindrance was that it had been half a year since he had gone to the duke's study, and he was not even taking the same path, using the servant corridors this time. This delayed him, as he sometimes had to spend time walking up and down the main hallways to look for doors that he might recognise, exposing himself to being seen.

After several such outings, he began to grow worried. What if he failed to remember how the door looked? Perhaps he had already gone past it. He did not know how much time he had spent already, but he needed to complete this and return to the great hall before the other guests left.

Time. That was the clue he needed.

He pressed his ear to a door that looked promising, but heard nothing from the other side. He tried another, also without result. Turning back, he retraced his steps to the previous hallway to investigate a door he had been unsure of. With his ear against the wood, he heard the faint sounds of a mechanical clock ticking. The Khivan watch he had noticed when the duke had invited him to the study. Hand against the keyhole, Martel quickly used his magic to unlock the door and hurried inside.

Closing the door behind him left the room in darkness, but a glow of magelight alleviated that. He vaguely remembered the study with its Khivan clock, bookshelves, and a bronze statue. The most likely place for any legal documents would be in the desk, in particular any locked drawer. Martel crossed the room and began pulling on all of them until he reached one that would not budge. A small burst of magic persuaded the lock to open. Martel dove in and withdrew a heavy stack of parchment. Placing it against the desk, he quickly skimmed through them.

These all seemed to be deeds. Not what Martel came for, though it surprised him to learn how many properties the duke owned. This looked to be a large part of the Khivan quarter.

One piece of parchment in the pile was folded up. Opening it, Martel recognised it to be a map of Morcaster. It seems strange why this would be with the documents, and increasing the light floating above his head, Martel inspected it further.

He found only one thing that gainsaid his knowledge of the city. Rather than the ramshackle houses of the Khivan enclave, the lower left corner of the map showed large buildings. Insulae big enough to house hundreds, probably.

The pieces fell into place for Martel. The duke had bought all these properties to develop them. But he needed the current tenants out, hence the constant rent-raising.

This made it all the more urgent that he found the rental contract to prove the duke was breaking the law. He was not simply trying to extort the Khivans like Shadi and her father; he would not stop until they had been forced from their homes.

Noise outside the door. Panicking, Martel grabbed the documents and threw them back in the drawer. As he heard keys jangle in the lock, he dove underneath the desk to hide and extinguished his light.

A moment later, footsteps from at least two people could be heard entering the study, accompanied by a ring of light. "Hold this." The voice belonged to the duke, and as he spoke, Martel noticed the light moving, as presumably a lamp changed hands. "Where did I put it…"

"What is that strange noise?" The speaker was unknown to Martel.

"My Khivan clock. A marvel of machinery. Have you never seen one before?" As he talked, the duke rummaged through what sounded like a shelf or maybe another drawer. Martel prayed he did not need anything from his desk.

"Never. It uses noise to count time?"

"With great precision. I would advise you to buy one as well, but after tonight, I doubt that will be possible." They both laughed. "Ah, here it is."

The men left, closing the door behind them and returning darkness to the room. Martel emerged from his hiding place, stretching his legs. The duke's words had sounded ominous, and he wondered at their meaning. They suggested something imminent, an immediate threat to the Khivans. Perhaps Duke Cheval had grown tired of evicting families one by one. But what did he intend instead?

Martel thought about his experiences in the enclave. The worst of these had to be the day of the riots, incited by reports of casualties from the war. The attack on the small temple, blood and bodies strewn across the square. With tonight's celebration as an excuse to drink heavily, igniting tempers would not be difficult. To a man with the duke's resources, inciting another riot would be possible.

Martel had to warn the Khivans. He would wait just a little longer to be sure the hallway was clear and afterwards rush to the enclave.

The noise outside returned. Martel dove underneath the desk again. Perhaps the duke had forgotten something. Martel prayed that the nobleman left quickly; he did not know how much time he had before the attack happened.

The door croaked open, revealing light. Several pairs of boots could be heard. "I know you are in here," came the voice of the duke. "Show yourself."