They'd already retrieved one of Navuh's robes a few days ago, and Number Five was carrying it, folded over his arm in a long protective bag. On the bottom of the bag were Navuh's leather slippers, which had been a last-minute addition they hadn't thought about until they looked through his closet and realized that the lord didn't own a single pair of boots. The wrong footwear under the robe could have given Number Three away.
They entered the stairwell leading up to Navuh's former office, closed the door behind them, and pressed on the panel that revealed the entry to the tunnel.
The jeep they used each time they visited the harem was where they'd left it, and they arranged themselves in the vehicle as best they could. Four in the jump seats in the back. Two up front. Number One and Number Eight stood on the vehicle's rear bumper, braced against the roll bar.
Number Seven started the engine.
The air in the tunnel was damp, earthy, and cool, and smelled like stone that had never seen daylight.
The drive took twenty-two minutes.
They parked the jeep facing the mansion and then entered the harem using the code they had memorized to open the door.
The carpet on the other side was thick enough that the soft click of the mechanism did not carry. The bookcase swung open, and the Eight passed through it into the receiving room of the apartment.
Number Two closed it behind them.
"Let's check the robes in here," Number Three suggested. "Maybe there is something better in his closet here."
The Eight walked into the bedroom that had been Navuh and Areana's.
It had been kept exactly as it had been on the day Navuh had vanished from the island. The bed was made, and the two leather chairs by the terrace doors were positioned to face each other.
Number Three set the garment bag on the bed.
Number Two walked into the closet.
Most of it was taken by beautiful floor-length gowns, but one wall was lined with all kinds of robes, organized by color and level of ornamentation. Number Two moved along the rail, pulling out one at a time and assessing it.
The fifth one caught his attention.
It was a black, floor-length robe, heavier than the one they had taken from the mansion. The edges were embroidered in silver thread, and it had a deep hood lined in matching silk.
This one will work much better, he thought.
Number One stood at the doorway and tilted his head.We are using a thrall to make Number Three look like Navuh. The robe doesn't matter that much.
Number Two lifted the hood.The one we brought has no hood. I do not remember what Navuh's hair looked like. What if we get it wrong? The brothers will notice the difference. The hood solves that problem.
The collective considered.
Number One remembered short, nearly black hair, brushed back from the forehead, and slicked. Number Eight held a different memory of slightly longer hair that was parted on the side.
The robe with the hood is better, Number Eight agreed.
Number Three pulled the slippers out from the garment bag and handed the bag to Number Two, who hung it back in the closet and handed Number Three the black robe with the hood.
The robe was loose on his frame, but that was okay. Lord Navuh was a slim male with a similar build to Number Three. He probably wore this robe to make himself appear larger. Number Three closed the robe at the throat so it covered the clothes he was wearing underneath, also borrowed from Lord Navuh's closet in the mansion.
He sat on the bed, removed the boots, put on the slippers, and winced.
They were too small for him.
Who knew that Lord Navuh had such small feet? Was this why he wore long robes? To hide his unimpressive feet?
The collective registered amusement.
Number Three stood and walked over to the mirror. He looked enough like Navuh that the collective wouldn't have to work hard to create the illusion that he was the lord.
