Chapter 21 · Chapter 21

He placed the slate cap over the recess, setting the mortared edge flush with the cellar floor before scraping loose grit over the seam. To anyone descending these stone steps with a torch, there remained only the damp foundation of my grandfather's storeroom, cold and silent under the lime.

A rapid, muffled tap struck the heavy timber of the street door above—three measured beats, a pause, and then the scrape of an iron latch being tested from the lane.

Saad rose without haste. He brushed the stone powder from his forearms onto his wool tunic, his movement deliberate, unhurried by the alarm.

"Stay near the inner stairs," he told me quietly, not turning his head as he moved toward the climb. "Keep your tarha drawn until you hear my voice."

I gathered the folds of my dark cloak closer at my throat, stepping back into the shadow of the lower landing. Through the slit in the wooden grating that overlooked the entryway, I saw Saad lift the heavy crossbar.