Niklaus du Plessis squinted, his eyes swiftly adjusting to the darkness after the glare of the midday sun. Inside the building, which was dark and dingy from boarded-up windows, the details swam into sharp relief. His keen sight was unnatural. A gift of hers, since he’d agreed to do her bidding so long ago. Slivers of light came through the gaps in the boards covering the windows, illuminating dust particles in the air. The air smelled of the sea and fish this close to the port.
He took a few steps inside, noting the floor was almost spotless—a strange fact for an apparently abandoned warehouse in the industrial district of Riem. But he knew it wasn’t altogether abandoned, as he’d traded one of his last gems to meet a noted swordsman here and prevail on him for a few hours’ tutelage. Niklaus’s sword work was getting a little rusty, and that was one thing he couldn’t allow—he could be assigned a new mission at any moment and had to be prepared for any contingency.
Timber creaked somewhere to his left. Niklaus scanned the room, the floor of which was covered with stacked crates and barrels, along with patches of dry and soaked rags, sand, and what looked to be a shiny patch of oil. All designed to make footing variable and difficult.
