She was still dormant, lying atop her peach velvet comforter, and he paused at the sight of her creamy white face and dark-blond ringlets resting upon her cheeks. Adoration swelled inside him. Toret put his fingers over her soft mouth.

"My dear," he whispered. "You must get up."

Her sapphire-blue eyes opened in surprise. But when she saw him, they darkened in temper.

"If you've come to beg for love, you can get out!"

"Shush," he said, touching her mouth again. "Quiet, my sweet. The hunter is in the house."

The expression on her face shifted to shock and then cunning. Indeed, it gave him some relief. It meant she understood their situation.

"How could she find us?"

Toret shook his head. "You need to escape. Chane, Tibor, and I will take care of this."

"How can I get out if she's already here?"

"The passageway behind the stairs, remember?" he answered, waiting for her realization. "Go down to the cellar and into the tunnel we made that leads to the sewers. I've heard the exits to the sea are closed, but you can travel a safe distance in that direction and climb out a grate in the city streets. I will find you later."

She blinked at him as if he spoke a foreign language.

"Drag one of my gowns through a sewer? My feet? Through that filth and stench?"

A pained cry echoed up through the house.

"What was that?" she asked.

"With luck, one of our trespassers was caught in Chane's trap. Now you must get out of the house."

She wore only a silk nightgown, so he hurried to the closet and grabbed the nearest gown.

"You can't attract any undue attention in the city now. Put this on and leave quickly."

"I'm not wearing that. You bought that; I didn't. Midnight blue makes me look sallow."

"Then you won't care if it gets dragged through a sewer," he said, and tossed the gown on the bed.

He needed to make sure Chane was awake and couldn't waste any more time. He was on the verge of outright ordering her into the sewer when she smiled.

"Of course, you're right," she said. "I don't mean to be difficult. How will you find me later?"

"I'll find you. Now get dressed and go."

"I'll need some coin," she stated with a stubborn look.

Toret sighed deeply. "There's a purse on my wardrobe."

Magiere caught Leesil as he fell. Her eyes hurt, and everything she looked at was speckled with spots of light, but otherwise she could see.

"I'm blind," Leesil said in a wild tone. "Magiere, I'm blind."

Leesil had caught the globe's full flash in his face. Vatz seemed tense and on guard, rubbing his eyes, but he was unhurt, as was Wynn. Chap had been closer. He whined, shaking his head and pawing at his face, but from the way he looked about, responding to the movement of the others, he was able to see.

Magiere pulled Leesil up to sit and kept one arm at his back for support. She didn't know what to do and hated the uncertainty.

"Hold on," she whispered to him, and turned to the young sage. "Can you help him?"

Wynn picked up the crystal that Leesil had dropped and stood examining the globe more closely now.

"It's still intact," she whispered.

"What is?" Magiere asked.

"The globe. I do not know how it is triggered, but it could be almost any of the magics… conjury, thaumaturgy, maybe even alchemy by artificing."

"Is it safe now?" Magiere asked with more insistence.

"I do not know."

Vatz jerked the globe free from the railing with both hands, dropped it, and stomped on it. The globe shattered like a mere eggshell upon the floor.

"It's safe now," he said.

Wynn sighed and knelt down beside Leesil.

"Wynn, can you help him?" Magiere asked.

"Blindness from a flash is usually temporary and passes in little time," the sage answered. "Apprentices have suffered similar accidents during first works of magic."

"We don't have a little time," Leesil growled. "If you can do something… then do it!"

Wynn slipped her hand around Leesil's back and nodded to Magiere that she had him supported. Magiere stood up. She reversed the falchion in her grip so she could still hold it and aim the crossbow.

"Vatz, watch the hallway," she said. "Shoot anything that moves."

The boy settled himself in next to Wynn, crossbow aimed down the passage toward the kitchen door.

Wynn set the crystal on the floor and took a pouch of water from Leesil's belt. She shifted around and pulled him back to lean against her.

"We simply need to speed up your body's ability to heal around your eyes," she said. "I am not a healer, but perhaps I can stimulate the process. Lean your head back upon my shoulder. I am going to rinse your eyes first."

Leesil did as she instructed. Wynn carefully poured the water across his blinking eyes.

"Now be still and quiet," she said. "I must concentrate."

She placed her palms like a mask over his face. As she closed her own eyes, she began chanting softly.

Magiere waited, impatient and anxious, as she watched Leesil. She couldn't finish this without him, and even if she could, she wasn't about to have him remain in this lair if he was blind. If Wynn failed, they would flee immediately.

Wynn ceased chanting, and Magiere forget to watch the stairs. She wasn't certain what the sage was doing or how such magic worked, but there had been no light, sound, or other sensations. No sign that anything had happened at all from the sage's actions. Wynn lifted her hands from Leesil's face.

"Open your eyes," Wynn said. "Is it any better?"

Leesil pushed up to sit on his own. He blinked twice, squinting, and Magiere quickly crouched in front of him. At that he looked directly at her face, and she took deep, long breath.

"Yes…" he said uncertainly, then nodded. "It's a little clearer."

His voice was calmer now, but Magiere still heard the strain in it. Blindness was probably the worst thing Leesil could imagine. He was a fighter. He turned his head and squinted at Wynn.

"Thank you. I don't know how-"

"How well can you see?" Magiere interrupted.

Leesil climbed back to his feet, and she grabbed his arm to steady him.

"Better," he answered. "It's getting better quickly now. That's all I need."

She nodded, uncertain whether he was completely truthful. "Then we go up."

Chane emerged on the second floor, long sword in hand, and moved quickly to Tibor's room. It contained only thick curtains and a mattress on the floor. Tibor was deeply dormant, and Chane knelt next to him. He reached out and touched Tibor's shoulder.

"Wake now," he said, his tone urgent. "The hunter is in our house."

Tibor jumped slightly and opened his eyelids. He pulled back away from Chane with a startled expression before recognition dawned.

"The hunter?"

"Get your sword. We must protect the master."

At mention of Toret, Tibor grabbed the blade lying next to him upon the mattress.

"You lead," Chane said. "Head for the hidden passageway, and we'll slip upstairs."

Without question, Tibor headed for the bedroom door with Chane close behind. As Tibor stepped into the hallway, Chane raised his blade. On some hidden instinct, Tibor looked back.

Chane's blade cut a path through the darkness into Tibor's neck and cleanly through it.

The sailor's head tumbled off, striking the floor and rolling down the hall. The body crumpled with a heavy thud, black fluids seeping into the hallway rug.

Chane wiped his blade clean on the body and stepped over it, hurrying to the concealed entrance of the hidden second stairway. Inside the small space of cobwebbed stone, he took the narrow steps two at a time and emerged quietly in the third-floor hallway.

He saw Toret peer from Sapphire's room, and Chane tapped lightly on the wall. Toret looked up at the sound and saw him. The small undead pointed back toward a spot behind the railing at the top of the stairs. Chane nodded and motioned for Toret to head for the far end overhanging the stairwell.