Page 79 of Paladin's Faith

The guard swallowed hard. He seemed to be standing on his toes. “N-no, ma’am.”

“Would you like to be able to?”

“Yes’m.”

“Good answer.”

Shane waved Marguerite and Davith down the stairs. Marguerite plunged downward, gulping fresher air with great relief. Wren joined them a moment later, wrinkling her nose. “That smell is getting worse. What the hell is it?”

“I believe it is a cynocephalic perfume,” said Shane.

“A what?”

“Lady Silver is a member of a dog-headed race. I smelled one of her perfumes when I visited her, and it was remarkably similar.” He shook his head, smile growing. “If she were to smash a concentrated vial, I imagine it would have much the same effect.”

Marguerite glanced over her shoulder, as if somehow she would be able to see the spreading clouds of scent. “I wonder if the smoke was a perfume too. That would be a lot safer.”

“I certainly hope so.” Shane’s smile faded. “I hope that it isn’t traced back to her. I can’t imagine that anyone would be happy about it.”

“From what little I know of the lady,” said Marguerite, “I suspect that she’ll have taken precautions. Lady Silver isn’t known for any intrigues whatsoever…and after a certain point, that lack begins to indicate almost superhuman skill.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Have faith,” said Marguerite, and was rewarded with a startled smile.

They reached the next level down, which smelled of laundry and scrubbing powder. The alarm clearly hadn’t reached this far yet. A pair of women appeared in the doorway, holding baskets of laundry. Judging by their expressions, they had not expected to encounter people carrying quite large weapons.

One shrieked and dropped her basket. The other, made of sterner stuff, narrowed her eyes and said, “I don’t know what you’re doing here and I don’t want to know, but if you keep moving, no one will hear about it from me.”

Shane inclined his head gravely. “Thank you, madam.”

Not to be outdone, Davith swept off his hat and bowed so low that the plume touched the stairs. “Your discernment is matched only by your beauty, O Queen of Washerwomen—”

Marguerite reached over, seized him by the ear, and pulled. “Enough of that. We’ve got places to be.”

“Ow…ow…ow…”

“Do you want me to let Shane do this instead?”

“He’s taller so it probably wouldn’t hurt as much!”

The next two floors were servant quarters and had the determined silence of people who only had a narrow window of time in which to sleep and were not going to waste any of it.

They were halfway to the next level when Shane paused and held up a hand.

“Problem?” asked Wren softly.

“People coming down the stairs. Fast.” He started down the steps again, setting a much quicker pace.

“Evacuating?”

“I don’t think so.” He shot a quick glance back at Marguerite. “Fighting on the stairs heavily favors the higher ground.”

Marguerite grimaced. “Next floors are storage. We may be able to hide?”

“I dislike being cornered.”

“Go down one more,” said Davith abruptly. “There’s a separate stair in the back on that floor.”