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He inspected the fireplace as best he could, but there were so many nooks and crannies in the stones that the keyhole or latch could be hiding anywhere. It would take him weeks of searching to find it in the dark. Even if he found it, it could be tucked so deep between the stones that only the special key—which King Solan no doubt kept on his person at all times—could open it. It would be nearly impossible to pick the lock.
But as he crouched in front of the fireplace, he felt a faint draft. Something about the draft seemed off in a way he couldn’t define.
He reached into the fireplace and felt along the flue. Where there should have been solid stone, his hand met air.
Of course. This was a double fireplace. The king might want a hidden room, but he wouldn’t want it to be an icebox in the winter if he planned to spend time working in there. A stone wall separated the two fireplaces, but they shared a single chimney.
It wouldn’t be pretty, but he didn’t need the door to get into the secret room.
Crawling into the fireplace, he slowly stood, tucking in his shoulders as much as he could. At least the king preferred a palatial fireplace. It was tight, but he wasn’t in danger of getting stuck.
Once he was standing, the wall between the two fireplaces was at his waist. It took a lot of shimmying and wiggling to curl his body over the fake wall and into the fireplace on the other side.
He rolled onto the hearth on the other side and gently peeled his gloves off and left them by the hearth. He did the same with his boots. He didn’t want to accidentally track ashes all around the room.
Without a window or door, this room was pitch black. At least the guards wouldn’t be able to see a light if he lit one here.
He pulled a small wooden box out of a pocket, then flipped open the lid. He whispered the elven word to activate the light.
Blue-white light flared in the darkness, coming from the glass ball that was protected inside the box. Taking it out, he held it up and surveyed the room.
The wooden floor was covered in a plain, blue rug while the walls were bare of tapestries and other opulent decorations. A large desk dominated the center of the room, covered with papers. More cabinets held drawers of what was likely paperwork while shelves held ledgers.
This was the king’s real office. If Edmund was going to find anything incriminating, it would be here.
He went through the desk first. In the bottom drawer, he found a stack of correspondence. Not from King Solan, as expected, but from Crown Prince Jimson.
King Solan must have confiscated them from his son. The drawer contained correspondence between Lord Farnley in Escarland and the crown prince, arranging for a cut of the smuggling profits. Underneath, Edmund found more letters, these to a dock worker to arrange for adding the poison to the grain that was loaded onto Lord Farnley’s ships to be smuggled into Kostaria.
So the Escarlish smuggler was Lord Farnley. Edmund felt a grim smile tug his mouth as he folded that particular letter and tucked it into the inside pocket of his shirt. He looked forward to taking down the smug lord.
Apparently Crown Prince Jimson had been behind the poisoning. King Solan seemingly knew about it, but nothing here indicated whether he approved of it or not.
Not that it mattered. Either way, the Mongavarian royalty was involved.
Edmund took the most incriminating of the papers and stuffed them into his shirt.
Voices came from the other room. He whispered, and his light winked out. They shouldn’t be able to see it, given the tight way the secret door fit into the wall and the height of the stone wall that divided the two fireplaces. But he wouldn’t take the chance.
As before, the guards searched the outer office, then left without searching the secret room.
Likely, they didn’t know about the secret room. The king wasn’t about to trust this secret to random guards. Only a few trusted individuals would know about it.
Once he was sure the new guards had resumed their post, Edmund continued searching the room. He found more information about the smuggling operation. Notes on which members of the Consular Prime the king thought he could trust and which ones he had put under surveillance since he was suspicious of them. And he had notes on the difficulties they were having trying to start a new spy ring in Escarland.
That made Edmund smile. Good. He, Jalissa, and the Escarlish Intelligence Office were doing their jobs.
He still memorized the names of those who were trying to infiltrate Escarland. The Intelligence Office would find that information helpful. There was also a mention of several of the telegraph lines being tapped. That was something that would need to be fixed as soon as he returned to Escarland.
He could feel the time ticking away. He was cutting it close toward dawn, but there was so much useful information here. He would push it just a little longer.
As quickly as he could, he searched through the rest of the drawers, then paged through the most recent ledgers on the shelves. He tried to memorize as much as he could, but he’d also tell James and Alvin about this place and how to get in through the fireplace. Even if he couldn’t get all the information today, they might be able to come back and get the rest later.
Finally, he could push it no longer. It must be nearly dawn, and he had to get back into his room before darkness no longer hid his movements as he climbed the rope.
He stuffed the most important papers into a hidden pocket of his shirt, then checked that he had returned everything else to its rightful place. He brushed away a few of the ashes that he’d scattered, then he whispered the elven word to cut off the elven light. He closed its box, put on his boots and gloves, then stepped into the fireplace.
After listening for a moment to check that the guards weren’t in the staged office, he wiggled up and over the dividing wall before rolling out on the other side.
