Leesil shook his head. "I don't see it. My parents gauged their actions quickly, and assassination on the spur of the moment is higher-risk than the other possibilities."

"Oh, wait," Wynn said, as Chap continued. "He says there were men down the corridors near the main floor, and they were not there before…" She stopped to scowl suspiciously at the dog. "How could you possibly know that? We were not close enough to-"

Chap bobbed his muzzle in the air, sniffing and snorting loudly.

"No, you could not," Wynn argued back. "The place reeked of men and sweat and food and a smoky fire. You could not smell people down those back corridors."

"I think we'll trust his nose more than yours," Magiere said. "What's this about 'before'?"

Wynn appeared only half-satisfied as she watched Chap's reply. "He says there are doors at the corridors' ends, and they lead to passages to the lower level, but there were… When did you go down there?"

Chap continued pawing at the hide.

"He was there once with Gavril," Wynn translated. "But there were men, probably soldiers, down both corridors today."

Leesil closed his eyes. These speculations were going nowhere. He found some comfort that his companions worked so hard to ask questions and consider any possible answers. The four of them had puzzled out parts of Magiere's past in the same manner, but this time they had too little to work with.

When he opened his eyes, Magiere was watching him. She no longer bothered with quick glances when she thought he wasn't aware.

She stood up, grabbed a lantern from the floor, and placed it up on the table. "It's getting dark. If we want to keep our welcome at the keep, then we have a hunt to begin."

Relief took the edge from Leesil's hangover. Getting out of Byrd's inn was a welcome escape. At least he knew how to run down an undead if he couldn't run down his own past.

"We start at the Bronze Bell," Wynn suggested. "Lieutenant Omasta said there were witnesses, and Chap may pick up a trail."

"I think you should stay here," Magiere said, but it wasn't an order or filled with any spite toward Wynn. "It's not about what you… what happened in Droevinka. We don't have garlic for the quarrels, and you can't defend yourself otherwise. This is a straight-up hunt, and if Chap gets a scent…" Magiere stumbled over her words and turned blunt by nature. "We can't get held protecting you."

Wynn looked dumbstruck, and Leesil held his breath against the coming tirade. He agreed with Magiere, but knew he'd have to make Wynn see the sense of it. Chap barked once in agreement and stuck his nose into Wynn's neck. She exhaled and looked up at Magiere.

"Of course. I would just be in the way."

Leesil pulled out a few quarrels and tore up the towel to wrap the heads with small bits of cloth.

"Wynn," Magiere said, and crouched beside the sage. "Spend some time on those drawings of Byrd's. Now that you've been inside the keep, maybe something will come to you."

"Yes," Wynn answered, gaze down. "That sounds like a task for me."

Leesil uncorked an oil flask, then dipped and drained each quarrel head so its cloth wad was soaked.

"What are you doing?" Magiere asked.

"Take a flask and some quarrels," he said. "If one of us gets a shot with a burning quarrel, the other might hit him with a full flask of oil Soak his clothes or hair, and he'll go up in flames."

Magiere frowned, clearly not caring for the idea but having no better substitute. "We have to find him first."

She fitted a quarrel into the crossbow, slipping the feathered end under the thin metal clamp on top of the stock that held the shaft in place. She slung the weapon over her shoulder and tucked the rest of her quarrels through the back of her belt, then checked that her falchion slipped freely from its sheath.

Leesil strapped on his winged punching blades, and readied his own quiver, oil, and crossbow. He pulled his hood up around his face and slipped on his gloves. Finally he lifted the topaz amulet out of his hauberk's neck to hang in plain view.

"Ready?" he asked.

Magiere nodded. "Like Wynn said, we start at the Bronze Bell."

Chap licked Wynn's cheek, then led the way downstairs. Leesil glanced back into the room before closing the door. Wynn didn't look up, still sitting on the floor like a small kitten locked in the house after everyone left.

Hedi worked on an embroidered pillowcase as she sat in the meal hall that evening. It was a proper thing for a lady to do. When young, she'd never found much use for such pastimes. But a woman sewing quietly in a chair was almost invisible. Few ever noticed her presence or realized she noticed them.

Servants and soldiers wandered in and out, but no one spoke to her. Dinner had been to her liking, a mutton stew and fresh bread served with dried fruits and nuts. Fortunately, Darmouth had not appeared for the meal. Omasta sat with her at supper, but they did not feel the need to talk. Hedi noted that he left once his bowl was empty, not sending a servant for a second helping. It was strange that he did not indulge like the others, having risen up to favor in Darmouth's eyes.

Hedi did not care to go back up to her room, though sometimes she felt more alone among people. She worked in tiny stitches on the pillowcase. Time passed, and the dining hall emptied. With no one left to ob-serve, she thought of Emel, hoping he did not worry too much and still sought a way to free her.

Low voices caught her attention. She looked up to see Faris and Ventina enter, walking with heads close together in whispers. They stopped at the sight of her, clearly not expecting anyone here well past the evening meal. Hedi stood up with a short bow of acknowledgment.

"I hope I am not imposing. I was not tired and had nowhere else to go."

Her words were intended to put them at ease, but neither appeared moved or politely sympathetic in return. Faris stared at her with hard eyes and then lightly gripped his wife's upper arm.

"I must go. The hunt should begin soon."

Ventina nodded, and her husband left the meal hall. She walked to the table and gathered leftover bread and dried pears. She was a slender, wiry woman with wild black hair. Golden bracelets dangled from her wrists, though Hedi doubted they were true gold, and a matching circlet around her head held back wisps of loose hair.

Hedi stepped around the table's end, approaching Ventina. She might never again have an opportunity to speak with this woman alone.

"Lord Darmouth gave me leave to wander the keep," she began. "I met your daughter today."

Ventina looked up, her long features caught between caution and anger.

"Korey is a lovely child," Hedi went on, "with sweet manners and a gentle nature. You have raised her well."

Ventina's features smoothed. "You spoke with her?"

"Yes, we played at card games all afternoon, just children's games. She learns quickly. Catch the King was a bit too easy for her."

Few mothers could resist hearing their child praised, and Ventina was no exception. "How did she look? Was she well? Had she eaten?"

Hedi patiently answered Ventina's barrage of questions, assuring her of the girl's well-being. She watched Ventina's wariness melt, watched her shift slowly from the guarded servant of a tyrant to a mother starving for scraps of information about her daughter. Guilt flooded Hedi for what she was about to do, but she did not falter.

When Ventina appeared most at ease, Hedi stepped closer, pitching her voice to a whisper.

"I know you must hate him… as I do."

Ventina froze, confusion washing over her dusky features.

Hedi needed to break through Ventina's defenses, and pressed on. "Darmouth uses your child against you-Korey's life for your obedience. What if he no longer had such a tool in his possession?"