The Bedchamber 

Queetch froze for a second as he took in the scene before him.  Just a few feet from where he stood, another door entered the chamber – presumably from the lady’s dressing room as the room he had just been in had contained a man’s clothing.  The window was glazed and closed, but the shutters had been left open and some light came through.  He could see nothing within the bed with the drapes closed, but no sound came forth to indicate he had disturbed anyone.  He drew his knife and advanced slowly into the room.

His feet brushed something furry.  He started, but then looked down and saw that it was nothing but a carpet.  Nothing but the best for these decadent bretonnians, it appeared.  It seemed to take an eternity to cross the floor, but in reality he was able to move quicker than if the carpet had not been there to absorb the sound of his feet as he scampered across the floor.  He placed his knife to the divide between the drapes and eased one slowly back.

He could not prevent the sound that escaped his lips then.  The bed was empty!  Where could they have gone?  He had known they had been at the castle that night – had they been forewarned of his attack and fled?  The click of a door latch brought him back to reality, it seemed he had been partly right – Sir Robert had been forewarned but had not fled and now stood before him, fully armed and with his sword drawn.

Queetch made to run to the window, but two dark shapes streaked from the knight’s side to place themselves, growling fiercely, between him and his escape route.  Faced by the two hounds, he turned back to the bretonnian – maybe he could still fulfil his mission, after all it would take but one scratch from his poisoned knife to end Sir Robert’s life.

“How-how did you know?” he hissed, playing for time as he edged closer.  “You came up the stream,” the knight replied, “and you interrupted the wheels as you came.  Master Gunri knew immediately that something was up, and it was not hard to surmise what.  I watched you cross the Round Hall and come up the staircase to my apartment, and that simply confirmed matters.  I think…” but here Sir Robert was forced to break off, as the assassin lunged suddenly forward having crept within striking distance.  Yet to stab an unprepared man in the back is one thing, and an art of which the skaven are undisputed masters, but to stab a fully armoured knight who is already on guard is an entirely different manner.  Queetch’s knife snapped against Sir Robert’s shield as the knight’s sword came around to club him on the side of the head.

The skaven fell groggily to the ground, but still managed to flick a throwing knife at Sir Robert with his tail.  But his aim was ruined and the knife glanced weakly off the bretonnian’s armoured helm.  He tried to scramble up, but found his arms seized by two powerful jaws.  His tail lashed around as he tried to free himself from the hounds, but he fell still as he felt the point of de Giselles’ sword against his back.  Rough hands seized him and a hood went over his head as his arms were forced back into a most unnatural position for a skaven.  Ropes went around his body, binding him securely and he found himself hoisted in the air.  As he was carried off, he heard Sir Robert say, “Take him outside and execute him.  We don’t want any stains on the carpet.”