I pressed my hands against my mouth until I got a grip of myself. This was a whole new throw of the runes. I forced myself to gather my wits; I had to find out all I could and then get clear. I reached to pull the ripped shift to cover her torn nakedness but stopped myself just in time. If wizards were working with the Watch, who knew what they could discover about who had been here and why. I must not touch anything.

I forced myself to ignore the pitiable corpse and looked around the room. It was an office and the invaders had ransacked it comprehensively. Parchments were strewn around the floor, torn, trampled and bloody. I squinted at some, blessing my Forest sight; they were business documents and even to my untrained eye looked significant, detailing percentages, commissions and purchase agreements. I glanced over at the body again; that much work had taken time. She was not gagged or bound, there were no bruises round her mouth to betray a stifling hand; the savage assault had to have made an unholy noise. Why had no one heard her screams? Why had Darni not heard her? I moved to the window; I could see the entrance to the alley where he had kept watch. This had happened while she was dressing for her dinner engagement; where was her maid? I wondered queasily. How had her assailants got in?

A massive strongbox was set against one wall, bolted to it if I'm any judge. The lid was up, though for the life of me I couldn't see how they had got it open; there were no keys anywhere about. More papers were scattered about and a stack of soft leather bags whispered seductively to me. I was not in the least tempted but something looked odd. I had a closer look at the contents, pushing things aside with my dagger point, and then sat back on my heels, frowning. There must have been coin in here; a few coins had slipped between the papers but the rest had gone. There was some jewellery left in the scattered velvet wrappings but those lovely pouches of polished gems had been left alone.

What was this all about? A hit on a strongbox to snatch coin is a fast robbery, in and out and spend the goods that same night, ideally on something you can resell fast. Why leave nice, untraceable gems behind and take highly identifiable jewellery? Torture is a long job and risky in a place like this — why torture at all for that matter? If they wanted information on her business and property, they had left stacks of it trampled underfoot. Come to that, Yeniya was a significant player in her own trade but there were bigger fish. What could she know that was worth this risk in a city where cut-purses got their necks stretched for a first offence? It all smelled very rank. I looked into the chest again; should I search for that chain? No, I'd bet it was long gone with whoever had killed Yeniya. I felt cold; was that what they had been after all along? I had no reason to think so but I was convinced all the same. Stuff this, time for me to leave.

I looked into the chest; should I take something to plant on the nephew anyway? No, he may have been an idiot and greedy with it but he did not deserve to get dropped any deeper into this mire. Was there anything of any use to us at all? Nothing that could be worth the risk of being tied to this crime.

I moved to the door and froze, heart pounding as I heard a soft noise in the hall below. Idiot, I told myself, it's probably just the kitchen cat. Probably, but what if it wasn't? I looked down at my hands, still nice and shadowy, but I cursed myself as I realised I had not been listening out for the chimes. How much longer could I rely on this handy concealment? I moved slowly to a dark corner and leaned cautiously forward until I could just see over the banister. The darkness in the well of the stairs was inky black but a passing lantern sent a gleam through the windows and I saw a shadow move quickly under the stairs. I stood perfectly still and watched as the shadow split and a dark figure ran silently down the hallway towards the kitchen.

I padded up to the next floor on silent feet, heart racing as I forced myself to move carefully round the ornaments. What had seemed elegantly decorative earlier was now just so much inconvenient clutter. I paused to calm my breathing and strained my ears for any sound of pursuit. I could hear nothing, but I was not happy. The doors around me were all closed and I did not want to risk squeaky hinges giving me away, however unlikely in a house so well maintained. I moved down the hallway with agonising stealth on the polished floorboards. Which of the doors at the end led to the back stairs? I pressed my face to the crack of each and was rewarded by the faint kiss of a draught on my lips. I tried the handle and blessed Halcarion as it moved silently and I found the servants' route to the basement.

There was no light at all. Even my Forest sight failed me and I had to feel my way down each step with hesitant feet, forcing aside fears of some unknown hand coming up out of the blackness to grab me. I had to concentrate on getting out of there before Shiv's spell wore off. My right hand was running down the panels of the wall to keep me balanced while I had my dagger ready in my left; an irregularity in the wood caught my finger and I stopped, wondering what it was. No thicker than a knife blade, the line ran round the moulding of the panel and when I pressed lightly on it, it gave a little. I let out a slow breath; could this be the door to the warehouse? It was in the right place and that would make sense. If I got out of here, I'd have to lay off the runes for a season, I was using up luck at such a rate.

I ran suddenly shaky fingers round the panel; there had to be a lock or a catch. Nothing. Stuff it. I rubbed my hands together till they stilled and tried again. This time I found a piece of moulding that slid aside to reveal a small hole. A lock; a catch would have been better but I lost no time getting to work with a lockpick while the dark silence pressed in all around me.

There, I had it. I was through and locking it behind me faster than a rat out of a burning barn. Once I had it secure, I turned to see where I was. The roof was lost in the blackness above but I could just make out tall racks marching away from me in neat lines. I could smell the harshness of new dye and, when I stretched out a searching hand, I felt the reassuring smoothness of broadcloth. I moved fast and headed for the far side where I knew there were doors. I only hoped there were no Watchmen, private or guild-employed; another thing I should have thought to check in advance. A faint scent vaguely like that of a damp dog told me I was among the fur stock and I peered into the gloom for the way out.

A footfall ahead froze me. I almost thought I had imagined it but a few seconds later it came again, the click of a steel-rimmed boot sole on the flagstones. I took a side turning and reached into the furs; was there anywhere to hide? No good. I looked at the racks; were they sturdy enough to climb? Perhaps, but as I weighed up the risks, my head suddenly started to swim. I blinked but the disorientation got worse and worse; it was like having an instant fever. I took a step forward but could not remember which way I had been heading. I turned to go back but that did not feel right either; my knees buckled and my hands started shaking. The tall racks of furs loomed, shifting and crossing in front of me, pressing down from above until I felt like screaming. The smell became a sickening, choking stench and my breath started rattling in my chest. I turned again and fell to my knees as the floor lurched beneath me. I clung to the flagstones as if I was afraid of falling off. The urge to scream was building in my throat but in some sane corner of my delirious mind I knew I must not do it. I bit my tongue hard and the bitterness of blood filled my mouth. The pain seemed to help clear my thoughts and I dived under the lowest shelf of pelts with the last of my control.