back into his sack, and crawled through the secret door. She had little choice but to follow.
* * *
Once Brenden crawled down the shaft after Magiere and emerged into a plush sitting room, the first thing he noticed was a candle in the shape of a deep, red rose. Wax roses were hardly what he expected. Leesil was already searching the walls and floor by sight and fingertips. Two oil lamps attached to the wall provided small flames of light. Last summer, if someone told Brenden that he'd soon be in the company of a vampire hunter and a professional thief, tracking down the undead murderers of his sister, he would have thought the speaker quite mad. In fact, it really did sound mad, and that thought made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.
And when he first met Magiere, he had despised her, thinking her a selfish and cold woman, whose only interest was in turning a profit from her tavern. His opinion of Magiere had altered a great deal since then. For all her strength and carefully guarded face, he could see pain and uncertainty buried inside. She did not hide in her tavern because of selfishness but something else, and he did not know her well enough to ask what that was. Now, she had overcome this mysterious obstacle and was standing beside him with a sword, ready to fight and kill or die. He admired her courage, and the clean lines of her features and her long black braid were not lost on him either. Strength, beauty, and fighting ability in the same person seemed a rare combination to him.
Then his thoughts turned back to Eliza, his fragile sister, and the smoldering anger in his chest made him focus on their current goal.
And on this room… curved couches upholstered in green velvet, a fine painting of the northern seacoast, braided rugs, and a variety of silver ornaments sitting on polished tables registered in his eyesight all at once. He walked over and picked up a sewing basket. Inside, he found fine needlework. The works-in-progress were more like vivid scenes come to life than mere embroidery. He held a half-finished scrap of muslin that depicted a huge sun surrounded by clouds, setting over the ocean.
Chap was slinking around, sniffing everything and growling softly.
"There's a woman," Brenden said flatly.
"What?" Magiere appeared somewhat confused by his statement.
"We aren't just dealing with the nobleman and that street urchin. And the things in this room are too personal for a servant. Servants don't sit for hours at needlepoint."
Leesil stopped his current task of pulling all the rugs up. "Or maybe one of the men is just artistic with truly fine taste in decor."
Magiere half-smiled at the flippant comment, and Brenden shook his head. He'd figured out by now that Magiere often hid behind a mask of cold hostility, and Leesil behind his humor, caustic or otherwise. He understood Magiere's defenses, but as much as he'd come to like the half-elf, Leesil's shifts between ill-timed humor and unexpected compassion, between rapid wrestling abilities and now burglary were getting to be quite unnerving.
Leesil examined a clearly visible hatch door in the center of the floor.
"What are you waiting for?" Magiere asked.
"This one is different," he said almost to himself. "Whoever put this place together never expected anyone to find that outside entrance, and probably never, used it, so there wasn't a real need for active safeguards." His head rose until his gaze settled upon Magiere. "We have to go down. I don't know any more about this kind of hunting than you, but I'm sure they'll be sleeping somewhere underground."
"What do you mean you don't know?" Brenden asked. He looked at Magiere. "Wasn't this how you earned a living before Miiska?"
The half-elf grinned weakly. "No time to explain. Both of you stand back."
Brenden stepped back and then did so again, until his back was nearly against the wall. Leesil slowly walked around the hatch door as if memorizing every part of it. The blacksmith experienced a wave of discomfort after quite a bit of precious time passed and Leesil still continued his study.
"We need to hurry," Brenden said. "The sun will be down soon."
"Daylight won't help us if we're dead," came Leesil's answer.
A small hole had been cut in one edge of the door to form a simple handle. All one need do was slip his fingers through and lift. Leesil crouched down to dig in his bag, but rather