"Oh, no." Magiere shook her head. "You're not breaking into a house less than a hundred paces from Darmouth's keep."
He ignored her and opened the box. Instead of pulling thin wire hooks from its lid panel, he used a fingernail to pry up the lid's lining and slipped out a small object from beneath it.
"I don't need to break in," he said. "I have the key." With his box hidden beneath his cloak, he dropped out of the wagon, landing lightly on the ground.
Magiere climbed out, wondering why Leesil had kept the key all these years. "Wynn, you wait here with Chap."
There was no one in sight along the side street, but Magiere eyed the cobbled road before following Leesil across to the house. He crept down the narrow space between it and the next building, and she kept close as they stepped out at the back.
As Leesil slipped the key into the back door, Magiere saw the lake's edge ten paces off-and the keep looming out of the water. No shed, nor trees, or anything at all blocked her view. They were in plain sight of Darmouth's stronghold.
Magiere crouched low. Before she snatched Leesil to drag him back down the side path, the lock clicked and he ducked inside the house. Magiere followed, shutting the door behind them, but not without a scowl for Leesil's recklessness.
The kitchen hearth was bare of any fire's remains, but it was still warmer inside away from the winter breeze. Magiere's curiosity overrode her irritation, and she looked about the home of Leesil's childhood.
A crafted iron stove stood to one side, likely added after the place had been built with its original cooking hearth. There was a floor hatch in the rear corner to the left of the door. This was all she had time to note, as Leesil headed through the house.
The next room held a table and high-backed chairs of stout walnut. Beneath the thin layer of dust, Magiere judged they were smooth and well finished. A matching cabinet reaching to the ceiling stood against the far wall. The wide archway to the front room was trimmed in the same wood and carved with squared spiral patterns from one side to the other. No other fixtures were present in the meal room.
Sparse but rich furnishings, all tainted with dust. Magiere wondered what had happened to the inhabitants.
"Is this what it looked like when you lived here?" she whispered.
Leesil pulled back his hood and headed through the archway. "The house is the same, nothing else."
His voice was too calm. Magiere imagined he'd spent most of his days in this city hidden away beneath a hood or some covering. He looked odd now with his long white-blond hair completely tucked under the scarf, but his narrow face and amber eyes were so impassive.
A braided rug lay in the middle of the front room's wood floor. Below the front window stood a divan. Its dark leather covering was meticulously mounted by an even row of polished brass nails binding it to the walnut frame. Nearby was the steel helmet Wynn had mentioned. A round target shield hung above the small empty hearth. Beyond these remains the room was empty, yet whoever had vacated this place sometime ago hadn't taken the last of their belongings.
Leesil headed for a smaller archway, and Magiere spotted the heavy front door beyond it. He turned around the archway's side, away from the door, and disappeared. She hurried after to find stairs to the next floor, and Leesil already up to the first landing above. She tried to step quietly as she followed. The stairs continued up another level, but he stood in the hallway, staring through a door left ajar.
The long room within was furnished with a large four-poster bed covered in a thick comforter. The other furnishings here, from the dresser and polished silver mirror to the wide chest at the foot of the bed, seemed undisturbed and in place. The last residents had left in a hurry.
Magiere noticed that Leesil wasn't looking at the room's contents. He stared toward the rear wall, and she followed his gaze.
There was a window seat, soft cushions of burgundy in place and heavy cream curtains left open. Through the glass, Magiere saw only the distant forest across the lake. She couldn't tell what kept Leesil there, as if waiting. Then he dropped his gaze with a deep silent breath and turned back to the stairs.
Instead of rounding the banister to head upward, he climbed the rail from the outside, hooked his leg over it, and leaned out to the ceiling above the hallway.
"What are you doing?" she whispered.
Suspended in the hall's center was an oil lamp that could be lowered by a cord tied off at the side wall. Leesil reached for the ceiling mount where the cord passed through an iron ring. He twisted the mount. When it came away in his hand, he lowered the mount and lantern to Magiere, then reached into the ceiling hole.
His expression shifted suddenly to relief and then disappointment. Magiere set the lantern down, stepping under him to peer up, but she couldn't see into the hole even after he pulled his hand out.
"No note or message," he said, "but the hidden coin pouch is gone. There's no sign of a hasty search or tampering with the lamp's fixture."
"What?" Magiere asked. "I don't understand."
Leesil unhooked his leg from the stairway rail and dropped down. "My father kept money hidden here in case of a sudden need… such as flight from Darmouth. My mother and I knew of it as well."
"Then this is good. Your parents took it and fled."
"We were also to leave a message for anyone left behind. I thought perhaps I'd find…"
"A letter from the past?" she finished for him. "Leesil, they knew you'd left. If they fled together, there was no reason to leave any word for you."
This wasn't a comfort to him. He hung his head with his eyes closed. As much as he'd kept his distance in recent days, Magiere stepped close, running her hand across his shoulder, down his arm, and to his own hand.
"Remember the dead ends we hit while searching my past? At least you know they took the coin and tried to escape… together."
He looked at her, and after a long moment finally squeezed her hand.
"We need to leave," she said. "As long-abandoned as this place looks, we don't want patrolling soldiers to suspect anyone's here.'
Her words spurred him, but not to leave. This time he did round the stairwell rail and climbed toward the next floor. Magiere's own warning became real as she heard muffled voices out in the street before the house.
"We need to go-now!" she whispered sharply.
When he took another step upward, she snatched the back of his cloak.
Leesil turned on her and grabbed her wrist in a tight grip. The look he gave her was no longer passive but cold and poised. It hurt her like a threat. She almost let go.
Magiere's next instinct was anger, but she bit it down. It was difficult for him to leave with so little, but she'd been doubtful that he would find much after eight years.
"Please. We have to go," she whispered as calmly as she could. "Now!"
Leesil eased his grip on her wrist, and Magiere backed down the stairs, watching him until she was certain he followed. She kept along the wall with her eyes on the window as they passed through the front room, then hurried through the meal room, kitchen, and out the back door.
At the end of the narrow path between the houses, she checked both ways. Two soldiers ambled down the street toward the bridge gatehouse. When they were far enough along, she hurried across with Leesil close behind her, and they both climbed through the wagon's back to the bench.
"Did you find anything?" Wynn asked.
"Just that they may have tried to escape," Magiere answered. "There's no way to tell when or to where."
Leesil settled on the bench beside her. He pulled his cloak about himself and did not look back toward his old home.
"What about speaking with their friends?" Wynn asked.