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And something else as well; which left her tooweary to ask him anything more about his new plan before
she drifted off to sleep.
Jonny had moved the wagon to a point just outside Church lands, and hidden it in a thicket off the road.
They were still within easy walking distance of the Abbey  and more importantly, from here they could
hear the bells as they rang for the various Holy Services of the day.
"It isn't m-much of a p-plan," Jonny told her the next day, as they waited, rested arid fed, for the sun to
sink. "B-but I used t-to b-break into Ch-Church b-buildings all the t-time when I w-was on my own.
Only p-places they g-guard are th-the T-Treasury and th-the k-kitchen. I w-was l-looking f-for s-safe
p-places to s-sleep. N-nobody g-guards the L-Library."
Robin took up the mass of her hair to braid it so that she could bind it around her head, out of the way.
She gave him a puzzled look. "The treasury I understand," she replied, "but why the kitchen?"
"B-Brothers are always h-hungry," he told her. "N-novices are alwayss-starving ."
They were both wearing dark breeches, close-fitting sweaters, and soft boots; all clothing they had
gotten for Gradford, so all of it a drab charcoal gray. Gray was better than black for hiding in shadows,
as Jonny well knew.
They waited after the sun set until the bell for Sixte, the last of the day's Holy Services rang; then they
waited another hour or so for the Abbey to settle.
Just before they left, Jonny impulsively picked up the silk-wrapped pendant; he had the feeling it might
be useful, although he wasn't certain how.
He recalled noting certain trees beside the Abbey, easy to climb, with boughs overhanging the wall; they
were just as easy for the two of them to climb as hehad thought. The Abbey itself was dark, with not
even the single lantern at the gate alight. That was both inhospitable and unusual; but he reflected, as he
inched along the bough he had chosen, that he already knew that Carthell Abbey was both. With luck,
they could come and go and never leave a sign that they had been here.
They took their time; no point in hurrying and possibly giving themselves away with an unusual sound, or
worse still, a fall. Kestrel straddled the bough he had chosen, lying on his stomach, and pulling himself
along with both hands, while both legs remained wrapped around it. If he lost his grip, he would still be
held by his legs. Gwyna was behind him; he hoped she had chosen a similarly safe way to cross.
Excitement warmed him; now they were filiallydoing something. It felt good, after all this time of simply
sitting back and watching things happen.
The bulwark of the wall lay below him  then behind him. If this had been summer, this would have
been a bad place to come in, for the soft ground would have betrayed him by holding his footprints. But
the ground was rock-hard, and any tracks he left in the frost would be gone with the first morning light.
Bits of bark caught in his sweater, and the bough sank towards the ground. Good! That meant less of a
drop.
But now he would have to carefully gauge the strength of the tree-limb he was on. If he went too far, he
was in danger of snapping it.
The limb creaked a little as it bent  then it came to rest on the top of the wall. Enough. It wasn't going
to get any better than this.
He clung with his hands, and slowly lowered his legs until he was hanging from the limb; then let go,
flexing his knees for the fall.
He landed on turned earth; a tumble of frozen clods that made footing uncertain and gave him a bad
moment as his ankle started to twist. But he managed to save himself by flailing his arms for balance, and
a moment later Gwyna landed beside him.
He tapped her on the shoulder; she followed him to the building, where they crouched in shadow for a
moment, listening intently.
Nothing. All was silent.
There were some advantages, he reflected, to trying to break into a building in a place where there were
treekies at night. No such place would ever have guard dogs or sentinel geese; the treekies would happily
make a meal of them.
This was probably the kitchen garden; the rear door into the kitchen itself would be to his right. But he
didn't want that door  for as he had told Gwyna, the kitchen might well have a guard on it.He wanted a [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]