Story - Part 3

Author: Andrew /

So, after waiting a few days, the time finally came. The sun had dipped below the horizon and the city changed from being a place of liveliness and movement, to one of shadows and quiet. Rollan stepped out of the inn and went down the street as before. He turned into the alley and went down to the bend at the other end of it.

Rollan sat on a wooden crate, back in the darkness, and waited for Cedric. Minutes passed that felt like hours. He was nervous. He didn't want to admit it to himself but Cedric seemed the kind of man who didn't do your "normal" kind of work. What was it he did exactly?

, he thought I guess I'll find out...

"You've been sitting here for five minutes and you're already antsy."

Rollan almost fell over. He looked around and from a darkened corner stepped Ced. How long had he been there? How was it that he hadn't heard him? Had he just been watching him the whole time? Chuckling, Cedric came over.

"You better be able to keep a cool head tonight. If you don't, who knows, you just might lose it."

Rollan gulped.

"Now, you swear to me that not a soul hears about our doings tonight. If they do, well, I'll just let your imagination wander."

And wander it did.

"Follow me." And with that, he leaped up onto the crate that Rollan had been sitting on, grabbed the edge of the roof and nimbly hoisted himself up. Rollan got up on the crate and pulled himself up too. He was in good shape but not near as lithe as Cedric seemed to be.

Once up on the roof, he saw there was a second level to the roof, which Cedric had already climbed up on. He was crouched, looking over the point that was protruding over the street. He looked this way and that, looking out even to the harbor, where a few tall masted ships were docked. Cedric motioned for him to come up. Rollan did.

When he was up, he moved over to Ced and got down. He looked around and didn't see what Cedric was looking for, but even so, kept down and waited.

"Ah ha..." whispered Cedric


"Look down there" He said, pointing down into the street. A nobleman was walking along, the street below, moving in the direction of the docks. "That's our man."

"He is? What's that mean?"Rollan asked, unsure of what to do.

"We tail him, but not on the street. Dirt leaves tracks, shingles don't." And with that, he started running, low and light, across the rooftops. Rollan followed.

They ran, keeping their heads down, quietly across the rooftops, skirting the edge, to best keep an eye on their prey. He moved along, walking quickly. His long tail-coat flapped loosely behind his legs and he kept his triangular hat tilted over his face. His hands were jammed into his pockets and his shiny leather boots moved briskly through the dirt streets. He took a right down a side street, still towards the docks.

Rollan and Cedrick followed by the rooftops, hopping the gaps between the houses. They kept a constant eye on the man walking through the now only lamp lit streets. They jumped across more roofs, only seldom hitting a loose shingle or an extra wide gap. The city was dense so it made roof-running none-too-difficult.

They came to the rooftops near the dock and watched the wealthy townsman walking along the dockside. He ducked into a building about a hundred yards away from Rollan and Cedric. Rollan looked down and saw that it was an old shop about with a creaking sign swinging in the chill breeze. The sign had the image boar's head carved on it, the lines painted in black. The sign was weathered and pockmarked by the salt in the spray from the water. The windows were boarded up and no light was coming from inside.

"C'mon" said Cedric.

With that, he slid silently down the side of the roof, let his legs slip through the space between this roof and the next and held himself up from falling by bracing a hand on either roof edge. By spreading his feet and pressing them against the opposing walls of the two buildings, the slid down the smooth, stone walls, landing effortlessly on the dirt ground. Rollan slid down the shingles the same, but hit a roofing nail head sticking out of the wooden shingles, which spun him round. He began sliding backwards and panicked. He fell back, his feet went over his head in some kind of awkward backwards roll. He ended up on his stomach, facing up the incline of the roof, sliding towards the gap fast. His feet went through the opening and he scrabbled with his hands, just barely catching himself on the edge. There he hung, feet dangling fifteen feet above the ground, fingers starting to ache and slip...


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