Soldier of Fortune: A Gideon Quinn Adventure (Fortune Chronicles Book 1) by Kathleen McClure
Authors: Kathleen McClure
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and then froze in place, suddenly indecisive.
The food — some sort of soup with a bright, citrusy scent, warm naan and a plate featuring masala dosa and skewers of roast meat (he thought it might be bison or, no, aurochs — but who cared because meat ), was reducing him near to tears.
But then, there was that bathtub — long enough for even his long legs — begging to be filled.
He looked at the tray, then at the bathroom door, then back at the tray.
Several minutes later, Gideon eased into a tub filled with steaming hot water. The tray was set on the floor, within easy reach.
He could only hope whoever was following him had been a pickpocket, willing to move onto another target. Or, if it were one of Rand's operatives, that they would do the sensible thing and wait until he turned out the lights to try anything stupid, because if anyone dared interrupt him now, he would happily kill them.
* * *
It was something of a surprise to Mia she'd been able to use the alley approach after all but, seeing as the competition had taken the front door, she figured there was naught to lose.
At least, she assumed the gaudily dressed individual prancing out of the alley was the same slick operator who'd entered it, after warning her off.
The cheek!
For certain the fop's height and build matched that of the masked man, even if the clothes and walk were completely different. So different that Mia questioned the instincts telling her this was the same person. Then the man paused at the inn's door to scan the street with a competence belying the frivolous drapings, confirming her suspicions.
Since he entered the hotel with no further admonitions, she trusted he'd not seen her and made a careful dash to the alley, keeping always to the shadows.
Once there, she assessed the building.
Like much of Carroll Square, the Elysium was constructed of granite blocks during the Second Expansion.
Mia loved Second Expansion buildings. Not because of the design so much, but because the structure's age meant older, softer mortar.
Older, softer mortar crumbled, making a good place for a person to grasp onto should this person, for various reasons, need to scale the structure.
Admittedly, she preferred this sort of climb in dryer weather, but lucky for her, the alley also featured a compost bin directly under the lowest landing of the inn's fire escape. In a tick she was on the escape's landing. Another two ticks saw her climbing over the second-floor railing to the narrow ledge, barely half the width of her feet, and her fingers trusting to the lovely, crumbly mortar to keep her from falling.
* * *
In the corridor outside Gideon Quinn's room, Bren, the young Keeper who'd delivered Gideon’s meal, contemplated the hefty tip. Keepers didn't go in for this sort of thing, but the man had simply thrust the money at him and shut the door with nary a word.
He hadn’t even commented on the soup bowl being not as full as it ought, or that the soup that should have been in the bowl was soaking into Bren's tunic.
Not that it was his fault, mind. It was the guest in a horror of a green jacket, not watching where he was going, so he knocked right into Bren's elbow and upset the soup. Though it was also true the fellow had been apologetic enough, helping to mop up the mess, mostly by fluttering his handkerchief about so much Bren thought it a wonder nothing else spilled.
He'd even given Bren a half-star for his trouble, which he needn't have done, thus making this an unusually profitable night.
Clumsy, and no taste in clothing, but decent enough.
* * *
From where he lurked on the stairs leading to the inn's third floor, Nahmin listened to Bren's whistling retreat before stepping back into the hall outside Quinn’s door. Dosing the soup in transit was a calculated risk, but since his quarry chose to eat in the privacy of his room, some creativity was required.
Now to contact his employer. By the time the carriage arrived
The food — some sort of soup with a bright, citrusy scent, warm naan and a plate featuring masala dosa and skewers of roast meat (he thought it might be bison or, no, aurochs — but who cared because meat ), was reducing him near to tears.
But then, there was that bathtub — long enough for even his long legs — begging to be filled.
He looked at the tray, then at the bathroom door, then back at the tray.
Several minutes later, Gideon eased into a tub filled with steaming hot water. The tray was set on the floor, within easy reach.
He could only hope whoever was following him had been a pickpocket, willing to move onto another target. Or, if it were one of Rand's operatives, that they would do the sensible thing and wait until he turned out the lights to try anything stupid, because if anyone dared interrupt him now, he would happily kill them.
* * *
It was something of a surprise to Mia she'd been able to use the alley approach after all but, seeing as the competition had taken the front door, she figured there was naught to lose.
At least, she assumed the gaudily dressed individual prancing out of the alley was the same slick operator who'd entered it, after warning her off.
The cheek!
For certain the fop's height and build matched that of the masked man, even if the clothes and walk were completely different. So different that Mia questioned the instincts telling her this was the same person. Then the man paused at the inn's door to scan the street with a competence belying the frivolous drapings, confirming her suspicions.
Since he entered the hotel with no further admonitions, she trusted he'd not seen her and made a careful dash to the alley, keeping always to the shadows.
Once there, she assessed the building.
Like much of Carroll Square, the Elysium was constructed of granite blocks during the Second Expansion.
Mia loved Second Expansion buildings. Not because of the design so much, but because the structure's age meant older, softer mortar.
Older, softer mortar crumbled, making a good place for a person to grasp onto should this person, for various reasons, need to scale the structure.
Admittedly, she preferred this sort of climb in dryer weather, but lucky for her, the alley also featured a compost bin directly under the lowest landing of the inn's fire escape. In a tick she was on the escape's landing. Another two ticks saw her climbing over the second-floor railing to the narrow ledge, barely half the width of her feet, and her fingers trusting to the lovely, crumbly mortar to keep her from falling.
* * *
In the corridor outside Gideon Quinn's room, Bren, the young Keeper who'd delivered Gideon’s meal, contemplated the hefty tip. Keepers didn't go in for this sort of thing, but the man had simply thrust the money at him and shut the door with nary a word.
He hadn’t even commented on the soup bowl being not as full as it ought, or that the soup that should have been in the bowl was soaking into Bren's tunic.
Not that it was his fault, mind. It was the guest in a horror of a green jacket, not watching where he was going, so he knocked right into Bren's elbow and upset the soup. Though it was also true the fellow had been apologetic enough, helping to mop up the mess, mostly by fluttering his handkerchief about so much Bren thought it a wonder nothing else spilled.
He'd even given Bren a half-star for his trouble, which he needn't have done, thus making this an unusually profitable night.
Clumsy, and no taste in clothing, but decent enough.
* * *
From where he lurked on the stairs leading to the inn's third floor, Nahmin listened to Bren's whistling retreat before stepping back into the hall outside Quinn’s door. Dosing the soup in transit was a calculated risk, but since his quarry chose to eat in the privacy of his room, some creativity was required.
Now to contact his employer. By the time the carriage arrived
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