others.
The group stopped at a nondescript eatery for one last decent meal before the long ride to Arabel. They were greeted by a fiery-haired serving maid whose pleasant smile faded as she caught sight of the Harpers. They had been in the desert for several days without bathing or changing clothes and they had the look of ruffians.
'A private table might be best,' she said as she took the small group to a pair of tables near the kitchen and promised to return shortly with tankards of ale. As she left, the girl was stopped by an older woman, who whispered in her ear, eyeing Myrmeen and her crowd suspiciously. The red-haired girl shook her head and raised her voice as she said, 'You're right, of course. I would have thought their kind would keep to the Hall.'
Krystin was about to hurl a heavy wooden container of ground pepper at the back of the girl's head when Lucius grabbed her arm.
'That is not civilized,' he said in deep, rich tones.
'And you think I am?' she asked. 'The cow has it coming.'
Myrmeen glanced at her daughter. She was beginning to notice that they used many of the same phrases and wondered if Krystin was trying to emulate her. The thought appealed to Myrmeen and she smiled broadly.
An hour later, they were riding toward the city's gates, passing through another run-down neighborhood. Myrmeen drew up her mount's reins, and Krystin held on tightly as the horse neighed and brought them to a halt. Cardoc had been riding beside her, taking point.
'What is it?' Lucius asked as he raised his hand to signal the others to stop. The gaunt mage had followed Burke's orders perfectly, maintaining his visibility at all times. 'What have you seen?'
'This place,' Myrmeen whispered as she nodded toward a large, U-shaped building across the street. 'I didn't even recognize the neighborhood, but that building is where my nightmares started. That's where I was born and raised.'
'Your family had that entire estate?' Krystin said with amazement.
'No,' Myrmeen said. 'The family that had the building constructed left when the area was taken over by the working class and the poor undesirables, like my family. When the estate was given to the city, it was turned into cheap housing.'
'But you're wealthy, cultured-'
'That came later, much later.'
'It looks abandoned,' Krystin said.
Myrmeen nodded. The building where she had played as a child, where she had later experienced her first kiss, now appeared to be deserted. Vines covered the walls of the two-story dwelling and overran the courtyard. The fountains had dried up. Most of the windows were shattered and covered with boards. The balcony that ran the length of the second floor was stained with mildew and its railing was shattered in several places. Strangely, while the building had not been maintained, neither had it been vandalized. There were no signs that it had been overrun with families of squatters.
'Why are we stopped?' Burke called. 'What's happening?' When no response came, Burke and Varina rode to either side of those riding point. Burke was surprised by Myrmeen's softening features. The lines around her eyes and mouth, which had seemed to deepen over the past several weeks, appeared to vanish as she surrendered herself to the embrace of warm remembrances.
'Did you want to go inside?' Varina asked.
Myrmeen thought it over. Suddenly she heard her father's warm, booming laughter as he went off to work on that last, fateful morning, riding off to a private audience from which he would never return. She had clung to that image for years, then forgotten it until just now, as she saw the window of the bedroom that once had been hers, in the building's east wing.
'Yes,' Myrmeen said, 'for a moment. Then we'll leave.'
'I have no objection,' Burke said benevolently.
Krystin turned her gaze to the sun. There were many hours of daylight left, so she did not allow her fear to overcome her. Reisz and Ord followed behind the four horsemen who led the party beyond a crumbling marble fountain, upon a stone walkway and deep into the central courtyard. In moments they were flanked by the two long arms of the building, and they dismounted before the easternmost of two sets of stairs, the only way up to the second floor.
The curly-haired fighter tapped Ord's shoulder. 'I don't like this,' he said candidly.
'That's the joy of riding with you, Roudabush. You don't like anything.'
Reisz nodded. Ord never used Reisz's family name except to signal that he, too, was very worried.
Myrmeen was already climbing the stairs, her boots trampling the vines underfoot. Krystin remained at her side, feeling a disquieting compulsion to stay close to the woman whose hair and eyes were identical to her own. Burke told Myrmeen to go ahead, that he and his wife would follow at a comfortable distance. Reisz and Ord were ordered to remain behind and watch for horse thieves. Cardoc went off to explore another section of the building but promised to remain within earshot.
'It's so much smaller than I remember,' Myrmeen said as they reached the second-floor landing.
Krystin walked a few steps to the right and peered through the slats into one of the rooms. Frowning, she said, 'I don't think you're going to find much. Look here.'
Myrmeen went to her side and squinted as she bent slightly and stared at the ruins of what had been the main living chamber of a single-family dwelling. Staring at the demolished furnishings and piles of rotted wood strewn about, Myrmeen felt the urge to abandon the search. After all, she did not want to see her childhood home in such condition.
An urge that she could not resist propelled her forward. She led Krystin back along the gallery to a hallway at the top of the stairs, which had been scorched by flames. There were no rats or roaches, though she did find the occasional wisp of a spider's web.
'Can't we walk around this ledge?' Krystin asked.
'We can't get in that way. The front doors were all walled up after a few children died after running through the doors and not looking where they were going. The guardrail was a joke.'
Myrmeen swallowed hard. She had known one of those children, an unfortunate little boy, and had been schooled with his sister. They both had lost siblings, and the experience had bonded them together.
'Myrmeen?' Krystin asked.
Shuddering, Myrmeen took Krystin into the hallway and turned to face a darkened central corridor that subdivided the second floor. 'I don't know how safe this is. Let me go first.'
'All right,' Krystin said.
Myrmeen entered the black corridor, her hand against the wall as she found the spot where the passage angled to the left. She gestured for Krystin to follow. The girl entered the corridor, barely able to see Myrmeen's hand, which she clung to as she was led down the night-black avenue to a door that Myrmeen did not need to see to recognize. They heard the footsteps of Burke and Varina following behind.
'It's not locked,' Myrmeen said as she pressed her weight against the door and shoved. The door came open easily and Myrmeen was shocked by what she found on the other side.
'Someone's still living here,' Krystin said.
'Yes,' Myrmeen said in a tiny, stunned voice. 'I am.'
The chamber they faced was decorated exactly the way Myrmeen remembered it from her childhood. A heavily worn sky-blue rug was thrown across the floor. Wx›den shelves and cabinets lined the walls. Oversized pillows, which her mother had woven and stuffed with feathers that she and Myrmeen had spent weeks gathering, lay on the floor beside a lute identical to the one that had disappeared with her father. There were paintings on the wall, and one in particular arrested Myrmeen's attention: It was a portrait of herself as a child, sandwiched in a happy, loving embrace between her mother and father.
'No,' Myrmeen whispered as she fought back the tears that welled up in her eyes. Her trembling fingers grazed the painting's surface, lightly touching her dead father's hard, proud face.
Krystin wandered past the main chamber and called to Myrmeen from one of the two adjoining bedrooms. Myrmeen glanced at the rocking chair near the partially boarded up window, then at the chests shoved against the wall, the dining table, and the small kitchen. Food had been prepared here recently; she could smell the succulent aroma of chicken basted with imported spices from her father's village in far off Velen, near Asavir's Channel and the Pirate Isles.
