He squinted but saw nothing, yet he was certain he hadn’t imagined it. Then came the heavy scrape of a boot.
Pulling his sword, he turned south down the main passage. His steps quickened the farther he went, and still he saw nothing in the dark. When he reached the first left-hand turn into the passage to the library’s southeast end, again there was that soft, brief glow.
The library’s southeast door was open, and the glow had come from beyond it and the passage to the second door. How could both doors be unlocked?
Rodian broke into a run for the library door.
Chane ducked through the kitchen’s side door and around the long butcher-block table. He heard the guards coming nearer and quickly looked about.
Wynn had once mentioned leaving kitchen duty by way of a back door to the storage building. Footsteps suddenly pounded right by the kitchen’s side door. Chane ducked low, for the guards had caught up quicker than he had hoped.
“Do you see him?” one guard called.
“No. He’s fast.... Check the doors at the end while I check this one.”
Chane heard one set of footsteps hurry off along the passage toward the north tower. Likely the other had turned to check the rear door into the bailey. Once they found all doors locked, they would have only one route that he could have taken—into this kitchen. He was growing very tired of this and glanced quickly along the kitchen’s back.
There was a door, but it faced rearward instead of to the left, in the direction of the storage building. If he took that door and stepped into some scullery, he would be trapped.
The frustration was too much. He wavered at the decision between ducking out the kitchen’s main entrance to outdistance the guards in reaching the keep’s main doors and finding somewhere else to hide. That would put him in a bad place, as well. The guards might even hear him and turn back toward the main entryway, and into Wynn’s way if she and Ore-Locks came in.
There was one option that might keep the guards searching here a little longer. He half crawled between the kitchen’s preparation tables.
“Everything’s locked up,” one guard called.
“Same here,” the other replied. “And so ...”
Chane rose and bolted through the kitchen’s main doors. He slipped across the passage through the common hall’s side arch and flattened against the inner wall to listen.
Wynn couldn’t help feeling sick as Leesil dragged her up the stairs to the library’s top floor. He hadn’t spoken or even looked at her. What could have happened to make him treat her like this?
Leesil never let things fester. If he didn’t like something, he spoke up—or he got devious in manipulating things to his own liking. Here and now wasn’t the time, but Wynn knew the moment would come once they got out of here. Still, she didn’t care for the waiting.
When they stepped onto the top floor, Leesil picked up the pace, and Wynn was a little surprised to find herself hauled along the library’s south wall. It was the same route to the same window by which she’d once brought Chane into the guild ... the same route Chane was supposed to check for her and Ore-Locks.
With little choice, she hurried after Leesil with Brot’an behind her.
“Psst.”
At that cut-off hiss behind Wynn, Leesil stopped and turned to look, as did she.
Brot’an had halted and turned in the path between the wall and rows of casements. With his back to Wynn, she saw stilettos already in his hands as he set himself. She shifted, trying to peer around Brot’an toward the stairs they’d come up.
“Out of sight!” Leesil hissed and grabbed the back of her cloak and tunic.
He tried to thrust Wynn between the book casements, but she caught a glimpse of red rising up the stairwell beneath the cold lamp above the steps. She grabbed the casement’s end to hold herself in place.
Captain Rodian stepped out onto the floor, sword in hand and his gaze fixed on Brot’an.
“No!” Wynn shouted.
The captain’s eyes widened at the sight of her, though Brot’an didn’t even flinch. Leesil again tried to shove her between the casements. She stomped on his foot, and as he stumbled with a curse, she grabbed the back of Brot’an’s belt.
“Don’t!” she begged.
Brot’an didn’t turn, and Wynn looked at Rodian and shook her head. The captain’s gaze shifted once to her, his sword still poised, and he fixed on Brot’an once more.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” Wynn said quickly. “I have got to get out of here.... That’s all they’re trying to do ... to get me out.”
Rodian didn’t speak.
He studied her for a long moment and then shifted a little leftward. Perhaps he was trying to get a better look at Leesil, and Wynn tightened her grip upon Brot’an’s belt. This was so bad that she couldn’t even imagine the repercussions, no matter who won out in this moment.
Rodian slowly straightened and lowered his sword. She watched the captain’s brow furrow and his mouth close tightly. He exhaled through his nose. Finally, he just shook his head—and he turned away.
The last Wynn saw of him, he descended the stairs, casually slipping his sword back into its sheath. He was gone almost as quickly as he’d appeared.
Wynn stared after the captain as Brot’an straightened before her. She was jarred into a flinch at Leesil’s caustic whisper behind her.
“How many people in here tonight are trying to get you out of your own mess?”
“This is not the time or place,” Brot’an whispered.
But Wynn spun around to eye Leesil, not really catching all that was hidden in his comment.
“Me?” she shot back. “You think all of this is just about me?”
Her voice shook with anger, but it felt better than misery. None of them had the slightest idea what all of this was really about—none but her. They would understand soon enough, and then maybe they’d see the scope of things, and how much worse it might all become.
“It’s always about you,” Leesil said flatly. “Every time we turn around, you’re doing something ... with someone ... to get—”
“Oh, shut up, Leesil,” she cut in, “and get me out of here!”
Relieved by her own anger, for it did wonders to shut out the fear, she didn’t even wait for Leesil’s shocked reply. Wynn pushed past him, heading for the library’s rear window.
“What are you doing in here?”
If Chane had had a heartbeat, it would have skipped at that whisper. His whole body clenched as he whipped his head back to look across the common hall.
There, beyond the tables and benches, stood Ore-Locks, frowning at him. The dwarf’s face was reddened, as if he had recently made some strenuous exertion.
Chane put a finger across his lips in warning. As Ore-Locks hurried between the tables, a dozen questions flooded Chane’s thoughts. One stood out above the others as he motioned Ore-Locks toward the other side of the archway.
Chane mouthed, Where is Wynn?
Ore-Locks returned only, Safe.
That was not enough. But then Chane heard footsteps across the passage in the kitchen.
Ore-Locks’s red eyebrows rose, and he peeked around the archway’s edge.
Guards, Chane mouthed, and held up two fingers.
Ore-Locks scowled at him.
“He must have doubled back!” someone shouted. “Come on.”
Ore-Locks leaned back out of sight.
Chane had had enough, and there was only one option left. When he heard a guard step into the passage outside, he snapped his fingers, trying to pull the man’s attention. But in a stroke of bad luck, as the guard stepped through the arch, he glanced the other way and raised his sword at the sight of Ore-Locks.