Even under the moonlight the palace halls permitted traffic as the night shift dusted and polished and saw to the needs of late sleepers, whether guests or staff or functionaries. Even then noise was permitted, for the enormous sums Martial Companion Urfen had spent on magical technicians to soundproof every room were not paid so that his servants had to tiptoe around and get barely any work done. Even then the palace was alive.
So it was every night, every night except one cold night when snow and moonlight covered the palace and no servant walked the halls. No servant of the palace, that is. A single figure strode through the halls without trepidation, and why not? Everyone who belonged in the palace was asleep as the figure had arranged and would remain so exactly as long as the figure desired. Some uncertainty, some risk would have attended the matter if the palace's denizens had been drugged, but clients did not employ the Society of Moonlight Visitors for uncertainty and risk. Soundproofing adjusted to interfere with consciousness as well as sound waves was the sort of sure technique that justified the Society's extravagant fees.
That night when the palace died, the figure made straight for the master's chamber with no attempt at stealth and opened the doors as if expected. The Martial Companion failed to greet his guest, shameful behavior in a host, but the Visitor expressed no displeasure. Instead the figure reached inside its warm coat and drew out a dagger . . .
The sunlight cleared away the snow bit by bit and the palace's dwellers awoke the same way. The still form of the palace's master remained undisturbed until a servant entered with a tray and shrieked in surprise.
"Lord Urfen! There's something on the table!"
The master stirred then and groaned, then sat up. "Best night I've had in weeks. What's this? Ah! The ornamental dagger I so admired when Sacred Master Ezdo showed me it! He's sent it as a gift, that sly old bligblagger!"
Merry Christmas everybody!
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