Quoted By:
This is a large door, and leaving it open ... it would be bad enough if the Guards got tipped off that you had slipped inside the Clerking House, but what if upon seeing that the door had been opened, the Guard closed it - then used his key to seal it off. If you were to come into this vestibule later, looking to flee from pursuers or even just hide from wandering eyes, and you found that the door was closed and couldn't be opened from this side ... you'd be a pig in a poke. There aren't any windows here, and what scant cover is afforded by the alcoves and the hearths will not hold under scrutiny. Truly, this afterthought of a room could be the most dangerous place in the whole of the Clerking House. So while it may seem counter to intuition that closing and locking the egress behind you is going to make it safer for you here, it cannot be gainsaid that a locked egress is better for you than a sealed egress - nor can it be challenged that knowing a locked door is locked and having to account for the time, effort and material to unlock it is a better situation to be in than believing a sealed door is open. With these point taken in mind, then it seems the best way to prevent the door from being sealed is to avoid drawing attention to it, and the best way to avoid drawing attention to a door that should be closed is to keep it closed.
Still, when you do ease the door close, you cannot help but feel a sense of foreboding when the quarantining lock engages with a series of well-oiled snaps. Being plunged into total darkness doesn't help much either. Cautiously, arms outstretched, you grope your way around the hearths, until you believe you are standing in front of the second set of double doors, the ones that lead into the gallery of desks for the clerks to ply their trade and take custom at this house. You can just barely make out the hint of a shape, but it is so fuzzy you have to wonder if you are seeing it simply because you remember that there is a door here, as opposed to actually being able to make out the door. At least you tell that there is no light coming through the gaps that this door must have - which is a strong but not absolute indicator that there is no light and therefore no one in the gallery. You set the decanter down on the floor - between your footwrapped feet, so you can find it quickly - and use your free hand to fumble through your pockets, seeking one of your candles and that snap-sparker. Your hand finally seizes upon the sparker, but before you take it out, you pause. Perhaps, it would be best to go forward without light? Or at least until you are ready to start the forgery, or are otherwise unable to proceed any further without it? As you consider that, you look around the vestibule, vainly hoping your eyes start to adjust. But as you set aside this hopeless hope, and start to consider the boons and dangerous drawbacks of sneakthievery with nude flames, you recall that there were posters nailed to this door.
