"David Freer - The Forlorn" - читать интересную книгу автора (Freer Dave)

tried the handle. It was locked, but the valet's door ten yards further on was not. She slipped inside.

The sounds coming from the great bed indicated that there was an occupant in the room. In fact there
was little doubt that at least two people were present, perhaps more. On the other hand, by the moaning
and panting they were otherwise engrossed right now.

Shael moved to leave the walk-in cupboard that was the valet's domain and her bracelets tinkled.
Instantly she froze. Obviously the bed's occupants were too busy to notice. Hastily taking a beautifully
ironed shirt from one of the shelves she wrapped it around and tucked it under her bracelets. Pleased
with the result she did the same on the other side with another shirt. She began her crawl. She had to
reach the far room while the bed's occupants were still absorbed. The bedchamber was a substantial
room, but well lit, with two small chandeliers on either side. If they looked away from each other they
would almost certainly see her. Concentrating on her goal she ignored the panting, urging and pleading
from the bed. It was only when she'd reached the far chamber that she risked a look at the huge mirror
on the ceiling.

She swallowed a gasp, and quickly moved around the corner. No wonder the tall Count Deshin had
hated her power games. They had always included a certain amount of sexual coquetry. It was not the
frustration of desire which had angered him, but rather that Deshin really preferred boys. A specific boy,
it seemed: a dashing and handsome young captain . . . of her father's secret police. That was the
foundation of his successful coup.

The Grand Dukes of Shapstone had not always been satisfied with their wives. Many of them had
married for political reasons. Others had been unable to part with their wild days, before assuming the
throne, as mere viscounts free to exercisedroit du seigneur. But bringing one's paramours past the
Duchess's chambers was sometimes a risky pastime. Therefore it was necessary to have another route to
the Duke's chambers. She knew that many a blindfolded girl had walked that passage, and up the hidden
stair. One of her instructors had told her about it in some detail. The captain on that bedwould know of
the passage. But had he been too occupied with arranging his lace suspender belt to seal it?

It was dim here. It took her a few steps to ascertain that not only had he not sealed it, he'd left the
hidden door open. His fallen clothes had plainly been stripped off in haste and on the way. She slipped
off into the welcome darkness and felt her way along. In a few minutes she was opening the outer
concealed door, and darting away into the gardens, towards the wicket gate so artfully hidden in the
rhododendrons.
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She'd won free to the streets. Now, could she get through the city without being caught? It proved easier
than she'd thought possible. She'd watched the pattern of patrols from the roof. Their movements were
no more difficult to predict than the steps of her favorite dances, and thus easy to evade. But the gates . .
.

. . . were thoroughly locked and barred. With distinctly wakeful Morkth-men guards patrolling them.
Could she get over the walls? Unlikely. She knew that fear had helped her to climb before, but she
certainly didn't feel up to it now. Still, she'd better try to find a way up onto them. Then she saw her
salvation. Outside the city granaries heavy wagons were being loaded in the silent, mechanical fashion of
the Morkth-men. Already most of them were piled high with sacks. She sneaked closer, stumbling over