Crimson Shadow, The - R. A. Salvatore Page 0,74

this area, the less accessible houses would not be so heavily guarded.

Still, Luthien could not get rid of a nagging sensation of danger. The less accessible houses were the domains of the richest merchants, even the members of Duke Morkney’s extended family. Luthien figured that Oliver knew what he was doing, and so he kept quiet and followed, saying nothing even when the cocky halfling led the way back down to the streets.

The avenues were wide and cobblestoned, but up above them the second stories of the houses were built tightly together. No building fronts were flat, rather they were curving and decorated, with jutting rooms and many alcoves. Teenagers milled about, along with a smattering of cyclopian guards, but between Luthien’s cape and the many nooks, the companions had little trouble in avoiding detection.

Oliver paused when they came to one intersection, the side lane marked by a sign that proclaimed it the Avenue of the Artisans. Oliver motioned to Luthien, leading the young man’s gaze to a group of cyclopians milling about a block from the intersection and calmly approaching them, apparently in no hurry.

“I’m thinking that tonight we do not go down from a roof,” the halfling whispered with a wistful smile, rubbing his eager hands together.

Luthien caught on quickly and eyed the halfling doubtfully. One of the first rules that Oliver had taught him about cat-burglary in Montfort was that the wealthy shops of the inner section were best left alone. The proprietors up here often employed wizards to put up magical wards to watch over their stores. The obvious disinterest of the patrolling cyclopians did lend some hope, but again, that nagging sensation of danger tugged at Luthien.

Oliver grabbed him by the arm and slithered into the avenue. Luthien followed, again trusting the judgment of his more experienced companion. A short while later, the two were standing in the shadows of an alcove between two shops, Oliver admiring the goods displayed in the side panels of their large front windows.

“This one has the more valuable items,” the halfling said, speaking more to himself than to Luthien and eyeing the fine china and crystal goblets on display. “But these,” he turned about to regard the many pewter figurines and art in the other window, “will be the easier to be rid of.

“And I do so like the statue of the halfling warrior,” he remarked. It was obvious that Oliver’s mind was made up. He looked all about to make sure that no cyclopians were in the immediate area, then reached under his gray cloak to a pouch on the housebreaker and brought forth the glass cutter.

Luthien stared at the figurine Oliver had noted. It was a fine representation of a halfling in pewter, standing boldly, cape billowing out behind him and sword drawn, its tip to the ground beside bare, hair-topped feet. A fine work indeed, but Luthien couldn’t help but notice how it paled compared with the larger, gem-studded statues in the window beside it.

Luthien grabbed Oliver by the arm, just as the halfling placed the glass cutter on the window.

“Who put it there?” Luthien asked.

Oliver looked at him blankly.

“The statue,” Luthien explained. “Who put it on such prominent display?”

Oliver looked at him doubtfully, then turned to regard the statue. “The proprietor?” he asked more than stated, wondering why the answer didn’t seem obvious to his companion.

“Why?”

“What are you whispering about?” the halfling demanded.

“Bait for a halfling thief?” Luthien asked.

Again Oliver looked at him doubtfully.

“You must learn to smell such things,” Luthien replied with a smile, perfectly mimicking Oliver’s accent.

Oliver looked back to the statue, and for the first time noticed how out of place it truly seemed. He turned and nodded grimly to Luthien. “We should be leaving.”

Luthien felt the hairs standing up on the back of his neck. He leaned out of the alcove, looking one way and then the other, and his expression was grave when he slipped back in beside Oliver.

“Cyclopians at both ends of the lane,” he explained.

“Of course,” Oliver replied. “They were there all alo—” The halfling stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly viewing things with the same suspicion as Luthien.

“They were indeed,” the young Bedwyr remarked dryly.

“Have we been baited?” Oliver asked.

In answer, Luthien pointed upwards. “The rooftops?”

Oliver replaced his tools and had the grapnel out in an instant, twirling it about and letting fly. Once secured, he handed the rope to Luthien and said politely, “After you.”

Luthien took the rope and glared at Oliver, knowing that the reason the halfling