"Open the way!" he called out, and the gates swung wide as the scarred soldier waved Welstiel onward. "Follow me, sir. You'll wait in the inner courtyard until my lord has been informed."

They crossed the bridge behind the soldier. When they passed through the keep's main gates and tunnel into the courtyard, Welstiel dismounted. Chane followed his lead and stood behind him. They left their horses with the courtyard soldiers and trailed their guide to the keep's wide doors on the far side. The soldier had already opened one of the doors when he realized his visitors were still following.

The scarred soldier raised a hand for them to wait as instructed, but Welstiel did not wish for Darmouth to know of his presence.

"What is your name?" Welstiel asked.

Che soldier appeared taken aback. "Devid, sir. I'll announce your arrival, if you'll wait here."

Welstiel guessed most of Darmouth's men would be out looking for Magiere. He stepped back from the door compliantly and glanced about. Aside from one man leading their horses off, there were three others in the courtyard. Welstiel was hesitant to use the mental tricks of an undead in the open, but so long as the target was calm, any onlookers would be none the wiser. Chane shifted closer toward the doors, watching him curiously.

Welstiel motioned for Devid to join him with a curt wave of his hand. Devid scowled, but stepped forward. Looking into the man's eyes, Wei-stiel spoke in a low thrum that carried his suggestions into the man's thoughts.

"Perhaps we could wait inside, out of the cold?'

Devid blinked twice. "Yes… it is cold out… but you're not to leave the entryway."

Welstiel leaned closer, glancing toward the tunnel to the bridge. "Your lord called you to the Bronze Bell Inn, did he not? He needs your service even now."

He focused an image in his mind of Darmouth ordering Devid to the inn. He did not even look at Devid, but waited.

A moment passed. Devid took two steps into the courtyard toward the tunnel. He looked back once at Welstiel. The man's blank expression clouded with confusion, then settled into a stoic urgency. He hurried off across the courtyard.

Welstiel watched him leave, holding the image of Darmouth in his mind until Devid was far into the tunnel and approaching the keep's outer gate. He waited for Chane's usual comment. Every time Welstiel used any ability as a Noble Dead, it elicited some sardonic remark from his companion. He had become accustomed to it, but this time Chane remained silent.

Welstiel looked back. The door was ajar, and Chane was gone.

He hurried inside to find the wide entryway empty. Welstiel looked up the stairs ahead.

Chane had run off to save his little sage once again.

Welstiel's anger passed quickly. He might be better off alone in watching over Magiere, especially with Chane's obsession constantly distracting him. It would certainly be easier to move about the keep. Welstiel could see that a time would come when a choice might be necessary: either to be rid of Chane, or to remove the object of his distraction once and for all.

The sounds of male chatter carried from the meal hall. He hurried along the opposite wall away from the voices, and ducked through the archway into the counsel hall. Before he looked back to be certain no one saw him, he sensed something warm and alive within the hall.

Two wolfhounds with wiry gray fur lay at the hall's back beneath the tapestries. Both stood up at the sight of him.

Welstiel felt the long-dormant predator within each of them, a trace that decades of domestication had not fully erased. He could guide that instinct with purpose. He had done so once to bring a wolf within Chane's reach for the making of a familiar. Dogs were easier to seduce, already pliant to human masters.

He projected a sense of calm toward them. The tallest one walked over and licked his hand. Its back nearly reached Welstiel's hipbone.

Welstiel looked around the large room. Nothing had changed from his first visit. He examined the table, chairs, and tapestries, annoyed that he had been forced to step into a place with no other exit.

The voices across the entryway quieted for a moment. He listened carefully, hoping for a chance to leave and locate Magiere. A deep male-voice said something unintelligible. Two… no, three people stepped into the entryway, footfalls growing louder as they approached the counsel hall.

Welstiel glanced about the room once more. He could handle Darmouth but did not want to be exposed just yet. And Darmouth was not alone.

Hurrying along the side wall, Welstiel ducked low behind the table and chairs as he crossed to the tapestry of a lone horseman, hoping there was room to hide behind it. When he lifted the edge, he found an opening built into the stone wall. Stairs led downward, and he stepped inside, trying to still the tapestry's swing as footsteps entered the council hall.

Welstiel took two steps down the stairs and then remained silent. He did not move. Something brushed his leg, and he looked down. Both wolfhounds had followed him. The tallest gazed up with liquid hazel eyes.

He could not risk sending them back and attracting attention and placed his hand on one dog's head to quiet it.

The tunnel beneath the lake was narrow. Leesil took the lead with a lantern. Chap came next. Magiere followed with Emel behind her, and Byrd brought up the rear. The passage wasn't a straight line as expected, and Leesil wondered about the long, gradual curve. The stone walls were cold and watertight, but even so, the lantern's light glistened off their damp surfaces.

Leesil had made certain that Magiere was recovered enough to con-tinue. Her hair was nearly dry, and she no longer shivered, but she was obviously fatigued, either from cold or her dhampir state, or both. He knew she was troubled about Wynn, about this search for his parents and about him. He glanced back.

"Are you all right?"

She held their other lantern low at her side. "Yes, but we left an un dead loose in Venjetz."

Leesil frowned. He hadn't given the undead another thought since their failed hunt. There was truth enough in what she said, but it wasn't what was really on her mind. It was just one more thing that had gone wrong in this fool's venture into his past.

"We can't save everyone," he answered, and focused on the tunnel ahead. "Sometimes we can only save ourselves."

A sentiment expressed by his parents for many years. He didn't like hearing it from his own lips, but right now he had enough to deal with, as did Magiere.

The tunnel kept on for so long that Leesil became anxious. Then the lantern's light hit upon a surface straight ahead, and he spotted the end wall.

"Leesil!" Emel called out.

He looked back, holding up his lantern, and Magiere turned as well. Emel stood alone, facing back the way they'd come.

"What?" Leesil asked. "Where's Byrd?"

"Gone," Emel said, his voice low. "i thought he was right behind me all the way, and now he's gone."

Leesil stepped around Chap, but there wasn't enough room to get by Magiere and Emel. "When did you last see him?"

Emel let out a sharp exhale. "I don't know… a while. I didn't hear anything. I looked back once I saw the tunnel's end, and he was gone."

Leesil cursed himself for letting Byrd take the rear. Watching over Magiere and hurrying to Wynn had distracted him.

"Why would he leave us?" Emel asked.

Magiere blinked several times before she looked at Leesil. "You'd better tell him. I don't know what to do, and he might be able to help."

This wasn't a good idea. The baron was well-favored in Darmouth's circle. How else had he survived all these years, in addition to being gifted the daughter of Progae for his loyalty? Still, who better to give Darmouth warning of an assassination plot than a trusted noble? However, in the end, that might also lead to mass arrests of anyone who'd ever been seen inside Byrd's establishment.