The Tower 

Queetch quietly worked this grill as he had the one at the pool, then eased it free carefully and let it sink to the bottom.  A silent hiss escaped him as he gazed on the tower – partly in hatred of the men within, but mostly in annoyance at its brightness.  The earlier clouds had cleared somewhat and although there was no moon, the stars shone through.  The elf-built tower seemed to glow faintly, as if responding to the starlight.  Clearly the route up the outside of the tower was out, so through the gate and up the stairs it was to be.

The skaven slipped across the moat, barely raising a ripple, and rested under the bridge that led from the barbican to the tower.  Staying within its shadow, he quickly ascended the wall to the base of the bridge and then cast his eye across the gate.  There was but one guard, and he looked somewhat less than attentive.  Queetch raised a blowpipe and then lowered it again – it would be better by far to slip past without leaving a trace than to have to dispose of a body and leave the doorway conspicuously unguarded.  Instead, he took a pebble and cast it across the bridge to splash in the moat on the far side.  The guard roused slightly and looked over the parapet to see what might have made the splash, oblivious to the true cause slipping into the tower behind his back.

Once past the portal, Queetch paused to take stock of his surroundings.  He stood in the shadows at the entrance to a large circular chamber that filled the entire floor and, by the appearance of its domed roof, a couple of floors above as well.  A round table, favoured accessory of the stylish bretonnian lord, dominated the centre of the room; twenty-four highly carved chairs and a minstrels’ gallery at the level of the first floor completed the ensemble.  The edge of the room was divided into six bays by six buttresses that rose to become the vaulting the held up the ceiling.  Each bay contained a door, he knew the one behind him led out to the bridge to the barbican, the others should, if his information was correct, lead to staircases to the rest of the tower.  The two on the left should go down to the kitchens and cellars and whatever else lay below the hall, while the two on the right should go up to the floors above the lord’s private chambers – each of these pairs would access one half of the tower with the other half either being entirely cut-off by a strong wall or only linked by a small, easily defended doorway.

The lord’s private chambers – de Giselles’ private chambers – were another matter, however.  They were to be accessed by the fifth stairway, which should be that directly opposite on the far side of the Hall.  That was his objective, and he was thankful that he had been able to discover this through other means rather than having to find it now through exploring.

Keeping to the shadows, the skaven assassin made his way around the room.  As he rounded the second buttress, a sudden noise sent him diving into the bay beyond.  He crouched motionless as one of the doors opened and a dwarf hurried out, but he turned towards the bridge without seeing Queetch and was gone a couple of heartbeats later.