Chapter 4: Four Digits

On my third night, Bruna came to my room with a pot of tea and left her keys on the tray.

"Oops," she said, without looking at them.

I stared at the ring of brass keys.

"You'd never leave keys with a hostage. That would be stupid."

"Terribly stupid," Bruna agreed. "My brother would have me shot. Or worse, he'd be disappointed."

She poured two cups and stirred hers with a cinnamon stick.

"He's had the log from your banquet hall since Friday, you know. Sits up with it every night."

"What log?"

"The door log. The alarm company records every code that opens every door."

"A man who owes Em a favor pulled it."

She sipped.

"He stares at it like it might confess."

I put my cup down very carefully.

"Where does he keep it?"

"I wouldn't tell you that."

Bruna stood and brushed flour off her jeans.

"It's in the study at the bottom of the east stairs. The guard on that floor falls asleep at two."

She went to the door.

"Don't wake him. He's got a bad back."

The door closed.

I heard it not lock.

I waited until the house had sunk into its night noises.

The old pipes ticked.

A shutter knocked somewhere below.

At ten to two I pushed the door and walked out into the hall in my bare feet.

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