Feb. 20th, 2013

A kitchen window overlooks the yard. I’m sure there will be someone stationed there against my arrival, so I walk past Tyrol’s house to his nearest neighbor’s.

There are four houses in a block roughly the size of his plot, each of them a palace compared to most of the town. One of them that actually abuts his property looks and feels empty… the windows shuttered, the door chained shut. Possibly its owners have left the doomed town for greener pastures… a lovely option for anyone wealthy enough to have pastures.

I’ve retrieved my cane, since I’m now abroad in the town in theoretical cooperation with one of the Electors. A quick twist of the beaten copper knob on the end frees the long silver wand that hides within it. One vague wave and a few mumbled words has the chain slithering off the door handles like a tamed snake and the bolts retracting inside the locks.

Inside, the house is as quiet as outside. I close the doors behind me and faintly hear the clinking of the metal hardware returning to their previous positions. I put a light on the end of my wand and hold my cane in front of me like a baton, then make for the stairs.

The gap between the sides of Tyrol’s house and the fence are almost nonexistent, and there’s no space between the fence and the outer wall of the house I occupy. The Elector never feared burglars to come in from the direction of his peers’ dwellings… that would have been rude.



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