"Dusty Monk - The Cloak & The Dagger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Monk Dusty)

"Would you be careful!" a voice whispered overly loud near the crash. "Or you'll get us caught for sure!"

"Me! You're the one that forgot to bring some light!" a second voice whispered back.

"C'mon!" the first voice returned. "Around the back. I'm sure there's an entrance there."

The sound of a sword being pulled from its scabbard floated across the street as the guard left his post
and disappeared in the darkness around the corner of the house, in the direction of the departing voices.

Devon didn't hesitate a second. As soon as the guard was gone, he leapt from his position in the shadows
and sped silently across the street, to the mansion's door. Barak followed after. By the time he got there,
Devon already had the door unlocked.

He opened the door a crack, the two of them slipped in, and then he closed the door behind them,
relocking it. Barak glanced around, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness within. They were in a large,
marbled-floored foyer. Directly in front of them an ornate staircase led to the second floor. Barak could
barely make out Devon's form in the darkness beside him. Devon held one finger up to his lips, and then
pointed across the foyer. Barak looked in the direction he pointed. He could just barely make out a
figure seated at the base of the stairs. Barak couldn't tell in the darkness if the man was asleep or awake.
Devon was motioning again. He pointed to Barak and pointed to the ground. Then he pointed to himself,
and pointed to the figure. Barak got it. Wait here. Devon would handle the guard. He nodded, Devon
turned, and was gone, his form completely disappearing in the darkness. Amazing, Devon thought. Not
that he could make himself disappear so readily -- but that he did it without any magic! Barak turned to
look where the guard was seated at the base of the stairs. He could still just barely make him out.
Suddenly the guard stirred, and stood up. Barak froze, afraid even to breathe. The guard looked around,
and stretched hugely. Then he was gone. Devon blinked. What had happened? He rubbed his eyes, and
looked again. The guard was just gone. Ash's Ghost! Barak breathed. He wondered for the first time --
though it wouldn't be for the last -- if he was as good a sorcerer as Devon obviously was a thief. Devon's
form emerged from the shadows, and he motioned for Barak to follow him.

They reached the top of the stairs, and then headed down a hall. Along the hallway every so many feet
were hung what appeared to be extremely expensive paintings. Devon passed two doors on the left, and
then stopped at a third. Here, he paused, and turned to the sorcerer. He nodded meaningfully at Barak.
Okay, Barak thought. This is it. He began another incantation, barely whispering the words, his fingers
moving rapidly in the darkness.


Devon watched the sorcerer begin the incantation. He still had his doubts. Devon had never worked with
a partner -- he preferred to work alone. But the sorcerer had certainly proved his worthiness. And if he
could pull off what he claimed -- well -- this just might work. Barak completed the incantation, reaching
into his belt pouch at the very end and flinging a pinch of what appeared to be gold dust into the air over
his head. The dust settled over the sorcerer, glittering like pinpoint fireflies. As it did so, the sorcerer's
form shimmered, and began to fade. As Devon watched, Barak slowly disappeared. Devon grinned. This
just might work. He turned to the door.

It took less than ten minutes to open the lock, and the ease of the door served as further confirmation of
what Devon already suspected. Lacroft knew he was coming. But Lacroft didn't know everything. And
now Devon was playing the way he liked to play best -- with weighted dice.

Devon opened the door, and crept in. He held the door open a second longer than he normally would