Magiere still didn't care for the sight of the silvery garrote lying therein amid his spare stilettos and a thick curved blade. She heard a muffled curse from behind her. Emel had seen the box's contents as well. She looked over her shoulder at his feet rather than into his eyes, making certain he kept his distance.
"If I can't open it from within," Leesil continued, "then I'll have to reach out somehow."
He took out the thick, curved blade and folded the box closed. Magiere returned the toolbox to its harness as Leesil stood up. He set the blade's point against the door above its handle and gripped the hilt with one hand over the other.
"Time to call attention to ourselves," he muttered.
Emel stepped close-too close for Magiere's taste.
"You are not serious?" he asked. "You will never cut an opening with that thing."
"Better hope otherwise," Leesil answered, and threw all his weight behind the knife.
He pulled the blade sideways toward the frame. The blade scored into the wood, and it made more noise than Magiere liked as it tore through the grain. Leesil cut a line slightly longer than the width of his hand. He repeated this several times, deepening the cut with each stroke, then moved up to work another cut a hand's length above the first one. Finally he used the blade's tip to chip and peel the woods top layer with the grain, digging out a rectangle between the two cuts. The process was difficult and noisy, and Leesil's brow began to sweat.
Magiere understood what he was up to and took the blade to relieve him. She worked inward until she'd gouged halfway through the door.
"Enough," Leesil said, and took the blade from her.
This time he worked at the top and bottom cuts without chipping more wood from the hollow they'd created. He finally stopped, tucked the hooked blade in his belt, and drew one of his winged blades. He set its tip into the hollow's center.
"If that didn't attract attention," he said, "then there's no one out there to hear this."
He slammed his weight behind the blade's crosswise handle.
The crack of wood made Magiere flinch as Leesil's punching blade sank in sharply. He jerked it back out, and Magiere leaned down to look into the hollow.
The wood had broken away on the outside, leaving a rectangular hole. Leesil crouched and slipped his arm through the hole and nearly up to his shoulder. Magiere heard scraping metal, followed by a click.
Leesil pushed the door open but stood there with a scowl, not stepping out.
"What's wrong?" Magiere asked.
"Nothing… just another obstacle I've removed for Byrd's Anmaglahk."
"No other choice," she said, and stepped past him.
The cell they exited was one among a row along a double-wide passage. They had been trapped in the last one at the back end. What passed for a lock was a metal slide bar with a pin, just enough to keep a prisoner inside but not requiring a key to the door. The place was silent, but Magiere still opened two of the other cells. Both were empty, and the door handles were thickly grimed by dust and damp air. This place had been left unattended and unused for a long while.
Leesil closed the cell door behind them and sheathed his winged blade. He did his best to press the popped chunk of wood back in place. It didn't stay, and Magiere grimaced as he licked the piece's rough side and smeared grime from the floor on it. He pressed it in again, and it held. No one would notice at a quick glance, unless they opened the door and the piece fell out.
Leesil walked ten paces to the far-end door with a larger barred window. The outer room beyond was dimly lit.
"Locked?" Magiere whispered, growing anxious.
Leesil gently pulled on the latch. The door opened, and Chap slipped by them into the next room, sniffing about with his nose in the air.
"Who taught you… your skills?" Emel asked.
By his tone Magiere suspected he already guessed the answer.
"Does it matter?" Leesil returned.
Magiere glanced back at the baron. Emel watched Leesil carefully, but his gaze shifted to her.
Leesil stepped into the outer room and stopped. Magiere saw him roll a shoulder as if fighting a brief spasm of muscle.
"My parents taught me," he finally answered. "Shutter the lanterns and leave them inside the door. We'll want our hands free."
Magiere did as he asked and followed him into the long room.
Crates, barrels, and other goods were piled end to end with narrow paths and small spaces between. The far wall held another door, and more closed portals were along the back wall to the right. The long wall to her left was a series of stone pillars forming archways, and beyond these she saw a parallel passage running north and south. Two braziers in that passage's far wall threw dim light through the arches into the storage area. Magiere stepped through the center arch and looked both ways down the passage.
Both far ends met with stone staircases leading upward, one to the north and the other south. In the center of the passage's wall was a door she hadn't spotted while standing within the storage area. Its dark wood was bound with polished leather strips and iron straps, all mounted with steel studs. The handle and mounting plate were steel as well and didn't show the same signs of age as the brazier mounts. Unlike the slide-bolted cell doors, it had a keyhole. A few paces along the wall to either side were outlines in the stonewall where two more openings had been filled in and closed up.
"Why isn't anyone down here?" Magiere asked as she rejoined Leesil in the storage area. "The cells were empty, so where would Darmouth keep Wynn?"
"There are no prisoners," Emel said. "Except for your friend and my Hedi. Darmouth beheads traitors immediately. Petty criminals and captives are killed unless they swear fealty. Our forces grow thin, and every able body is pressed into service. His paranoia mounts by the year, and no one stays within the keep unless he has a hold on them. Anyone who does is kept under watch, though there are few men to spare for that."
"Then where is Wynn?" Magiere insisted.
"I am not certain," Emel said. "Hedi is not officially a prisoner, so she would be given a room above. It is possible your Wynn is up there as well, awaiting questioning or-"
"You let us think she was locked down here." Leesil turned on Emel. "Why didn't you tell us this back at Byrd's?"
"I did not know if you would still assist me!" Emel snarled back, but a flicker of guilt passed across his features. "I must get Hedi back, and I needed your help. I used you no more than you have me… but I will find your companion."
A chill ran through Magiere, as if she'd just crawled from the winter lake. She was sick of this land. Amid all the lies, truth was held concealed like a weapon to be used in the right moment. Anger swelled, and though she tried to quell it, her words were spiteful.
"Are you so cowed that your wits have festered? We can't search above without being seen!"
"I can," Emel answered, though he looked less than certain. "Few in the keep will know I have not been summoned. And fewer still would question a trusted noble in Darmouth's confidence."
"You'll just come up out of the prison?" Leesil asked. "Look around you. The braziers are lit, but there's dust everywhere. Few ever come here, and not without permission."
Emel fell quiet, as if he hadn't considered this.
Magiere bit back any further viciousness before she spoke. "We'll search this level first. No one goes up until I'm certain Wynn isn't down here somewhere. Maybe we can find another route that…"
She stopped as Leesil spun away. Losing himself in the middle of something this dangerous wasn't like him. He was coldly quick and calculating when necessary, but little he'd done since they'd come to Venjetz was like the Leesil she knew. He stood there with his back turned, and she reached for him.