Read Master of the Dance for Free Online

washed off most of his scent, the dogs might still detect him. Stealth was his greatest ally, and he crept through the slumbering palace past snoring guards slumped at their posts, the royal abode's perceived safety lulling them into laxness. Doubtless there would be a sudden increase in the sentries' vigilance after tonight. According to Kerrion's notes, Chaymin lived in rooms quite far from his own, closer to the harem. Since dog soldiers patrolled the garden, Blade decided to use the assassin's highway, were there were less guards.
    Slipping out through an unguarded gate, he selected a rough wall and climbed it, slipping his fingers and boot-tips into nooks and crannies that offered slight purchase. By the time he reached the roof, his fingertips throbbed and his arms ached, and he paused to spy out the area before slipping over the edge. Areas of flat or slightly sloping roof bordered the palace's domes, and a path along which the guards patrolled ran around its perimeter.
    A half full Death moon threw a little light on the scene, without illuminating it too much. Blade paused to listen, locating two soldiers seated on the parapet behind him, who talked and smoked pipes. Boredom was the undoing of even the most diligent guards, eroding their training and forcing them to fill their time with small pleasures to keep themselves awake. Blade moved away from them, crouching to prevent himself from being silhouetted against the golden domes beyond.
    Several yards further on, he sensed two more soldiers ahead, strolling towards him. He glanced around, seeking a place to hide, but the roof offered no niches, or even shadows, in which to secrete himself. As the men came into sight, he slid over the edge and clung to the rough stone. They passed by with maddening slowness, even pausing to light a pipe above him. By the time they moved away, his fingers cramped and his leg muscles burnt. He returned to the roof and rubbed his hands and legs until the discomfort eased, then continued towards the harem.
    Reaching the spot above Chaymin's rooms, which he had studied earlier from the garden, he once more slipped over the edge and climbed down the wall. Here the surface was much smoother, built with large bricks instead of stones, and he had to grope for every handhold, finding them only where the bricks met. Since his feet found little purchase, most of the burden was on his arms, and they soon quivered with the strain. Twice he almost lost his grip when his fingers slipped, and scrabbled for nerve-twanging seconds to regain his hold.
    A glance down located Chaymin's balcony, and he lowered himself onto it, relaxing briefly to regain his composure and rub his fingers. When his palms dried, he examined the strong, iron-barred doors that secured the balcony against intruders, an innovation employed since Targan's assassination sixteen years ago. The lock that secured them looked well made, but did not daunt him. Blade selected a pick from his belt and felt for the tumblers inside it. As with all new locks, it was well oiled, and within minutes he had the doors open. Old, worn or rusty locks presented more of a problem, he mused, new locks were a pleasure to pick.
    Slipping inside, he paused in a shadow to survey the room. A huge canopied bed dominated it, the sheets draped over a pair of sleeping bodies. A crow roosted on a perch near the door, and a low mutter of voices came from the adjoining room. Curious, Blade crept to the door and peered into the next room, where four guards sat around a table, playing cards, drinking ale and smoking pipes.
    So Chaymin had taken precautions, it seemed, but not enough. As usual, the Prince did not want guards in his bed chamber, and the men in the next room where useless, as far as Blade was concerned. He turned back to the bed, drawing a dagger as he neared it. To ascertain which of its occupants was his victim, he bent and peered at them, holding his breath. They were both young girls, cuddled