Free The Alexandrian Embassy by Robert Fabbri Page B

around it. He shifted his weight; the rope bounced slightly but held. ‘No time like the present.’ He grinned and began to move his hands one over the other, hauling himself up the gradient. As he came to the edge of the roof he muttered a short prayer before pulling himself out over the void whence came the rumble of night-time traffic and the jollification of drunkenness.
    Magnus held his breath as he watched the silhouetted figure ease along the rope, taking care not to make it swing and loosen the bolt. Little by little he progressed over the twenty-foot-wide drop until, with a suddenness that caused Magnus’ throat to constrict so that he almost chocked, Tigran let go of the rope and fell a few feet onto the other roof.
    â€˜Done it,’ Magnus blurted in relief.
    A few moments later the rope slackened off as Tigran detached it from the bolt. The tension came back to it as he fastened it to something more secure.
    â€˜Good lad,’ Magnus muttered. ‘Now open the door.’ The cracking of wood being worked at with a crowbar confirmed that that was indeed what Tigran was doing, and very shortly Magnus could see the door to the West Viminal’s private gaol swing open and a couple of shadows stalk out. ‘Well, they can either stay or come over here, it makes no odds to me,’ Magnus informed the brothers watching with him.
    Both the men, having by now been acquainted by Tigran of his objective, decided to risk the crossing rather than stay where they were. As the first man climbed onto the rope, Magnus saw orange glimmers come from inside the wooden structure; soonit was a constant glow. By the time the first man had made it over, flames flickered from the structure and, Magnus hoped, would be now catching on the roof beams beneath the tiles that Tigran had, hopefully, removed from the floor of the gaol with his crowbar.
    The fire grew and Magnus rubbed his hands together. ‘Sempronius will never suspect that it was us who started it; he’ll think that the prisoners did it somehow – if he escapes being condemned to the arena, that is.’
    The second man was halfway across when Tigran came racing out of the gaol and back to the rope, flames sheening his naked torso. ‘Hurry up, you bastard.’ The escaping prisoner quickened his movement; as soon as he dropped down onto Magnus’ roof Tigran clambered onto the rope and all but slid back down.
    â€˜Eh? Look what we have here, Magnus,’ Marius said, grabbing the newly escaped prisoner by the wrist. ‘You little bastard, where’s my money?’
    â€˜Ah! So that’s how they knew the way through our tavern,’ Magnus said, recognising the man’s face. ‘Did they hurt you, Postumus, or did you just offer free directions to be friendly, like?’
    â€˜I’m sorry, Magnus, they caught me in one of their whorehouses; I was stupid to go in. They chucked me in their gaol and Sempronius threatened me with a red-hot poker, he did. I didn’t like it.’
    â€˜You liked it well enough the other night.’
    â€˜Not to be on the receiving end, though. Anyway, I didn’t think that telling them the layout of the tavern would do much harm; it was only directions they wanted.’
    One flick of Magnus’ head was enough for Marius and Sextus to lift a screaming Postumus up. Marius looked briefly down into the street before nodding at his brother. With a diminishing howl Postumus hurtled streetwards to slap onto the stone as Tigran arrived safely back with the roof ablaze behind him.
    â€˜What happened to him?’ the easterner asked as he handed the jar of the River-god’s fire to Magnus.
    â€˜He’s been giving people directions that he shouldn’t; so we gave him directions for the quick way down to the street. The rest of you lads had better join him but I recommend using the stairs, even though it takes slightly longer.’ He took a rag and smeared the