Over the next several days, she scouted out the great houses in north Lozhapad as unobtrusively as she could, thinking about how she might get into this or that one and what she might try to take. Lilah had hinted that she ought to try for a small target on her first solo venture—a merchant’s house, for example—but Ishtal was by no means willing to set her sights so low. So far, she’d exceeded her mentor’s expectations in most areas, and had earned her the trust and companionship she now enjoyed. She couldn’t begin slacking off now.

Fortunately, the Dragons had an archive of sorts, of houses they’d burgled before, with notes on how they’d done it and diagrams of the floorplans. It was an excellent reference for finding out some techniques for larger, uptown houses—and more importantly, checking which places were unknown and untried, and therefore most likely to be impressive. Most of the nobles’ houses, the ones standing spaced far apart from each other on those two grand streets, were untried, which didn’t narrow it down much, but at length, she made her choice.

Buchanan House stood near the middle of its row of houses, a proud and imposing four stories of deep blue stone that Lilah had told her once was naturally colored, and incredibly expensive. The area between the house and the iron fence that separated it from the street and its neighbors wasn’t as lush with plant life as some of the other gardens, but there were plenty of sculpted shrubs to provide cover, and the walls were built with so many nooks and crannies that it should be easy to scale them, especially if she borrowed some of Lilah’s climbing tools. She would get in, fill her pockets, and slip out; the only extra difficulty was that there would probably be guards she would have to dodge.

Thus assured, Ishtal made sure her tools were in good order and slipped out of the Salamander one evening after supper, telling no one where she was going. It would be better as a surprise. Her navigation of the city streets had much improved, and in short order she had found her way to the great streets, heart pounding with anticipation in her chest.

There were guards outside Buchanan House, of course—there always were, and particularly at night, in identical dark blue sleeveless tunics and black trousers, each with a sword at his belt. Fortunately, they tended to adhere to a very predictable pattern, and after a short time watching, Ishtal had found the gap in their timing that would allow her to dart up to the fence, pull herself up and over it, and drop to the ground on the other side with a light thud that probably only she could hear. She slipped through the shadows to the cover of a nearby bush, and then on to the next one, grateful for the new moon and cloud cover making her task easier.

There had been the faintest of ringings in her ears when she first set foot on the property, but she shook it off. It was probably nothing but her imagination.

Reaching the house, she slunk around to the side, ducked into deeper shadow as a guard passed by, and then felt at her belt for the equipment there. Grappling hook, perfect. There was an ornamental metal railing above her, and she cast the rag-wrapped hook upward to catch in it, then scrambled up the rope before the next guard could come along. At the railing, she left the rope behind—it was sufficiently inconspicuous, and she would need it on her way out—checked the gripping pads on her palms and knees, and began to shimmy her way up the nearest pillar-like formation built into the wall, which would take her to the third story. Now this was closer to the sort of climbing she was used to.

Catching hold of the window ledge she wanted on the third story and pulling herself onto it was the trickiest part, but Ishtal managed it, just barely, and set to work with the lockpicks. She had been prepared for it to be difficult work to get the window open, but to her surprise, the lock was one of the easiest she’d yet encountered. It seemed strange, but she shrugged it off after a moment—perhaps the Buchanans didn’t think anybody could get at this window to break in, or perhaps she’d just gotten that much better since she started out. 

She eased the window open and slipped inside, and immediately, a tremendous BONG resounded, one that was not heard so much as felt, as if someone had twanged every bone in her body like a bowstring.

It was possible, Ishtal thought, the moment she could think coherently again, that there was a third potential reason that the window had been so easy to unlock, and that was because the Buchanans preferred intruders to be deterred by other, better forms of security.

She had ended up collapsed on the rug that lined the polished hardwood floor of the room she was in, one that appeared to be a disused guest room. Slowly, shaking herself, Ishtal pulled herself into a crouch on all fours, and then onto her feet. She had probably just triggered some kind of alarm, but that didn’t matter. She had to keep going, find something, anything valuable, and get out of here with it. To do anything otherwise would be to fail, and that was unacceptable.

Beyond the room there was a long hallway, equally dim and, for the moment, unoccupied. Ishtal turned left, towards the front of the house, and crept along as quickly as she could manage while making no noise. Every now and then she encountered a door; the first few that she tried revealed only more disused rooms, but just as she was starting to panic, she came upon one that was locked.

That seemed to be, if nothing else, a promising sign that there was something worthwhile beyond it. So was the fact that this lock took considerably longer to pick than the one at the window had, even if the delay made her increasingly twitchy. Every other moment, she could swear she heard footsteps coming for her, but no guards or anybody else materialized.

Then something clicked and the door swung open, and Ishtal sucked in a breath. This was it. This particular room, a bedroom, was definitely in regular use, although not currently occupied, and she could see a vanity  with jewelry cases left lying out on it.

Unfortunately, she could also hear running footsteps that she was fairly certain weren’t her imagination this time.

Quick as lightning, she darted into the room, pulling the door to behind her, and scrambled for the vanity. There was a necklace box in easy reach, that turned out to contain a web of gleaming silver chains with a pendant of sapphires set in some odd shape, like a sphere with twisting vines spilling out from it. Into her belt pouch it went; there would be time to inspect it later. A pair of pendant earrings, sapphires with tiny diamonds, was lying out nearby. Ishtal snatched for it even as the footsteps came closer. One earring eluded her grasp and fell to the floor, but there was no time. She settled for pocketing the other, and bolted for the door.

Emerging into the hall, she slammed hard into a bulky, muscular human, one with a bushy dust-colored beard and a guard’s uniform, and the addition of a black band around his head that probably signified he was in charge and therefore probably the most dangerous.

It was only his sheer startlement that saved her. Taken aback as he was, either by her abrupt appearance, her foolhardiness in being here in the first place, or possibly by never having seen an Onena before, he lost a precious few seconds of reaction time before he could try to grab her, and Ishtal didn’t waste them. She made a knife-sharp turn and took off sprinting as hard as she could down the hall, back the way she had come. 

Acutely aware of the yells and sounds of swords being drawn close behind her, she skidded around a corner and took off again, counting the doors frantically and hoping she’d—yes! That was the one. If it hadn’t been for the claws on her feet, she never would have stopped in time, but she just managed it, swinging herself around on the door and taking a precious split second to close and lock it behind her. There was the open window in front of her, then, and she made a great bound across the room and another out onto the ledge, mercifully without any bone-twanging this time.

She could shimmy back down the pillar, but there were more guards shouting in the garden below, and it would make her too exposed for too much time. Ishtal stared at the ground below. She could probably do this. She’d fallen from comparable heights back home, once or twice, and been fine. 

It wasn’t going to be fun, though.

Taking a deep breath and bracing herself, she leaped from the ledge, tucking herself together in midair and, after a sickeningly long moment, hitting the grass in a roll that mostly kept the wind from being knocked out of her. Mostly.

With a grimace, she assessed herself. No broken bones—she could still run. Her head was fine. She was going to be very, very sore for quite some time, though, assuming she lived long enough for it to matter.

No time. She had to move. With a muffled grunt, she hauled herself to her feet, wincing at the particular bruise where the necklace had dug into her hip. The fence in front of her was only a handful of yards away. Guards were coming from either side, running hard, with only slightly more distance from her than she had from the fence, and closing quickly.

Clenching her jaw, Ishtal ran for the fence, hauled herself up despite her screaming muscles, and dropped to the pavement on the other side moments before the first guards would have reached her. In perhaps the first stroke of good luck that night, they seemed either unable or disinclined to climb over themselves, opting instead to head for the front gate so they could go around.

That was fine. She only needed that few moments’ delay to get out of this area and disappear into the alleys, and she didn’t think any of them were trackers. 

All she had to do was get back to the Salamander in one piece, and this nightmare could finally be done with.