Julia hesitated, but Hedi remained poised and waiting. Ladies did not unpack their own clothes, but neither did servants refuse dismissal. Julia nodded, and Hedi watched the woman leave. She listened, her body tense.

No click or rattle followed after the door's lever settled. Waiting a moment longer, Hedi stepped to the door and opened it herself. It was not locked. Prisoner of the keep she might be, but it appeared her personal room was not to be treated as a cell. She took a slow, shaky breath, and her thoughts cleared enough to turn elsewhere.

She now had an exceptional opportunity to gather more details of the keep for Byrd. But how would she ever get such information to him?

And poor Emel. He must be suffering by himself at the inn, worrying about her. Perhaps she could bribe a servant to take him a message? No. Their fear of Darmouth was greater than their desire for coin.

The hour was late, and Hedi opened her travel chest. She took out the heaviest nightdress and her robe. As she laid them upon the bed, someone knocked at the door.

"Julia?" she called out. "I need nothing more. You can retire for the night."

The door swung in, and Lord Darmouth stood in the opening.

Hedi froze at the sight of his tall and wide frame filling the doorway. His cropped hair appeared more brown than gray in the dim light from the fire, but she still made out the faint scars below his left eye. He crossed his knotted arms over his leather breastplate.

"I wanted to be certain you were settled comfortably," he said, voice low.

Hedi weighed her response carefully. "The room is quite agreeable, but I did wonder why you had me escorted here. The baron's soldiers protect me at the Bronze Bell, and it was my own foolishness in leaving without them that put me in harm's way."

Darmouth took one step inward. "They should've attended you better… or you wouldn't be wearing that ribbon around your throat."

She had no response to this, so she nodded graciously at his observation and presented her best worried front.

"Am I free to move about the keep? Or are there further concerns for security I should be aware of?"

His brown eyes softened, but this made her wary rather than relieved. He took another step toward her, now fully inside the room.

"You're my guest, here for your protection, Lady Hedi. The main floor and the upper levels are yours, but stay clear of anything below Only prisons and stores are in the lower levels, and neither are of any interest to a lady."

She felt dwarfed by his size and unnerved as he stepped ever closer His eyes were fixed upon her face but occasionally drifted elsewhere. Hedi feared that if he touched her, she would grab for a war dagger at his belt and bury it in his guts. She stepped back, fussing with her nightdress and robe upon the bed.

"Thank you for your concern, my lord, but it has been a long day and night. I am quite tired. Perhaps I will see you at breakfast?"

Darmouth hesitated.

Hedi knew her one real weapon. He wished to gain her approval and foster her affection for him. He would not force himself upon her if there was a chance he might yet win her willing consent. She had to keep him in his role of the hopeful suitor as long as possible.

Darmouth backed to the door with a curt nod. "Good night, then."

"Good night."

Once the door closed behind him, Hedi waited until his footsteps faded down the hall. She ran to the door to fasten it, but there was no key for the lock on the inside. Hedi retreated to bed, still watching the door.

She hoped Emel would come soon.

Welstiel walked the night streets of Venjetz, thoughts turning one upon the other, until he was barely aware of the shabby buildings slipping past him. He tried to focus upon his agenda.

Whatever was needed to move Magiere onward, it had to begin with Darmouth. Welstiel had dealt with a few warlords in his time. Most were petty tyrants of limited intellect. Darmouth might be a deluded pretender to a crown, uneducated as well, but he was no fool. And he was well guarded.

The best Welstiel might manage was to weaken the keep's security and assist once the assassination was under way. Once any such plan was in motion, it was a matter of days or less before the event took place; otherwise the risk of discovery in waiting further was too great. All Welstiel had to do was keep Magiere diverted for that time, and then her and

Leesil's motivation for coming to Venjetz would be gone. Hopefully this nonsense concerning the elven lands would fade as well. She would once again turn to finding the orb in order to stop him from finding it first, Magiere would become his unwitting bloodhound once again.

Welstiel shook his head at the irony. So much time had been lost since Magiere had left Bela. Thinking too much on it fed Welstiel's frustration. He paused in the street, realizing he had lost track of his destination. People still moved about the marketplace up ahead, drinking and talking even in this bitter cold.

Welstiel was surprised at the effort it cost him when he moved on. He was hungry, and an edge of fatigue crept in upon him. It had been too long since he last absorbed a life. He sidestepped into an alley out of reach of the street lanterns and watched the few people passing by. Most were inebriated or just tired at this late hour. Two voices engaged in an argument, and their words became clear as they drew closer.

"You know it's two coppers, Deni. It's always two coppers!" the woman nearly shouted.

"Not tonight it's not," the man answered. "I ain't got two coppers, but I'll catch you up next time."

Welstiel flattened against the alley wall as they passed by.

A young woman with long, oily brown hair shrugged a tattered shawl up over her shoulders. It did not cover her scant cleavage, partially exposed by two unfastened buttons at the top of her bodice, and she coughed twice.

"You know I don't give credit," she said.

The man trailing her wore a long leather hauberk, most of its sewn-on iron rings missing. He reached out to grab her waist from behind.

"Oh, come on, Alliss. I got a warm bed. Better than freezing out here, trying to find someone with coin at this time of night."

She elbowed him, spinning away from his hold. The man threw up his hands with a disgusted huff and continued on without her. The girl snorted and headed back toward the marketplace.

Welstiel stepped out. "Miss?"

She turned and looked at him, spite still lingering on her gaunt features.

Welstiel held up a silver penny. "I can offer more than a warm bed."

She sauntered toward him, a coy smile stretching her lips. Stains marred her faded lavender dress. With just this and a shawl, he wondered how she withstood the cold. Her skin was sallow.

"Looking for company?" she asked.

Standing in the alley's mouth, Welstiel lifted one side of his cloak. "Come in for warmth."

Her smile grew. Perhaps she saw luck in finding a gentleman, and she walked right up to him. He stepped farther back, determined to touch her as little as possible.

She followed him beyond the reach of the street lamps. Before she could speak again, Welstiel slammed his gloved fist into her face. The woman's head jerked sideways. Blood spattered the alley wall from her nose and mouth. Welstiel tensed in alarm.

He had struck with too much force, anger welling inside him before he could stop it. If she died from the blow, his effort was wasted.

The woman toppled sideways, scraping down the wall to flop facedown. Welstiel's senses snapped open wide, and he felt a moment's relief upon hearing the muffled beat of her heart.

Her hair splayed out above her head. A trickle of blood ran out of her mouth across the frozen mud. Welstiel stared at the growing trail and the back of her exposed neck.