A Flight of Ravens by John Conroe (books to improve english .TXT) 📕

shut, or at least tried to.  The big door was so heavy, it never really worked up enough speed to actually thunk shut.  Instead, it made a soft thud as it connected with the timber jamb. The spring-loaded lock automatically engaged.

Back in the dark, I sat back on my bed and set the cheese on my still-damp shirt.  The warm loaf tore in half to reveal a slim blade of good Wenkroy steel and a long brass key.  One of Salis’s personal knives, probably her smallest, with a cutting edge only as long as my index finger.  Still, it was razor sharp and the flat, thin profile let me hide it in my pants pocket. The key was likely to the cell locks, all of which were made to open to the same key. I ate the bread and used the blade to hack off slivers of cheddar.

Some time later, I heard Egg moving about, muttering to himself.  Then I heard his footsteps head down the line of cells and the end gate creaked open and shut. I waited a bit, then moved to the doorway.  The portcullis grate prevented me from doing more than just brushing the oak door with my fingers.  Experimentally, I pulled up on the lattice grating.  It was heavy as a horse, but it shifted, if only a bit, the bottom spikes just barely pulling free of the little floor openings they fit into. When I let go, it instantly dropped back down.

Just above my head, the darkness hid the opening the grate slid up into, and I could reach my fingers into the slash in the stone ceiling. Using the bottom of the grate itself as a foothold, I was able to lift myself so that my head brushed the stone ceiling and my fingers reached farther into the opening.  At first, I felt nothing but smooth, cold rock.  But near the left side, I found a little stub of something that felt metallic.  A bolt or rod.  Most likely the latch that normally held the gate up.  It was thumb-thick and almost touched the grate.  I couldn’t move it even a little.  I stepped back down and did some thinking.

Then I took off my pants.  The sharp knife cut the threads holding the spider cord around the waist.  Pulling my pants back on against the cold, I looped one end of the cord over the latch, tying it tightly in place.  The remainder hung down almost two spans and I pulled the bottom end through one of the grate openings just about a third of the way down the heavy barrier.

Back up over the round latch and down again, now hanging only a third of its former length.  I knotted that hanging end several times to prevent my hand from slipping off. Once more, I grasped the grating and heaved upward with all my might.  The gate resisted for a moment, then lifted free of the floor, just a little, maybe a tenth of a span.  I shoved my weight against it and held tight with my left while grasping the cord with my right and pulling out the slack.  Then I slowly, carefully released my hold on the metal but kept a death’s clutch on the cord.  The rope held, keeping the grate where I had lifted it.  Carefully, I switched hands on the slick cord, the little lump of knots pressing hard against my skin as it sought to slip free.  With my strong right hand, I grasped the metal grate and used my legs to press upward.  It lifted a little more, and again, I took up the slack.  I did this three more times until most of the rope hung down and the grate was halfway back to the ceiling.  With no more cord to tighten, I tied it off to the metal of the gate itself.

The heavy gate stayed in position, the bottom high enough that I could easily get under it. With enough room to get under the gate, my only barrier was the locked door.  I reached through the metal and used the tip of Salis’s knife to poke the metal porthole cover.  Egg hadn’t latched it and the little door swung open.

“Brent, are you there?” I called softly.  I could just barely see a small portion of his cell through my lookout.  Moments later, his face appeared, his eyes flicking about as he tried to see into my dark cell.

“I’m here.”

“Is Egg gone?”

“Yes.  I heard you shifting things about in there,” he said.

“I can get past the security gate, but the door remains locked and the lock is unreachable from this side.  I have a key and can throw it out this opening, but I don’t have any way of aiming it well.”

“I have some wire hidden that they didn’t find. If you get it out and in front of my cell, I’m sure I can get it,” Brent said.

I took Brona’s key and studied the little portal.  I can throw an axe five or six spans and hit an apple every time.  A knife like the blade Salis had lent me in the bread, I could accurately throw eight spans and pin a playing card with most attempts.  Here I was faced with a one-span throw through a hand-sized opening and it was as if I was in the Kingdom Dart Tournament finals.  After several deep and calming breaths, I held the key like it was a dart, pictured myself playing Soshi for a jug of my own ale, and then made one smooth, careful throw.

The key disappeared out the portal, but I didn’t hear it hit the stone floor.

“Landed right in my hands,” Brent said, the sounds of a lock clicking as he spoke. A cell door screeched, then I heard him fumbling with the lock on my door.  I turned and pulled on my still-damp undershirt, put Brona’s cloak over my shoulders and waited as he tugged the massive door open.

I rolled