Moreover, the demon occupation was recent. Vast areas of the place were empty, dust covered, and showed only the most cursory inspection by the current tenants. One tower to the front of the main keep showed signs of occupancy, but the others were abandoned. They climbed one tower out of curiosity, to see if a high vantage might give them some better sense of where they were.

When they reached the top room, they found the door locked. “Do we try to break it?” asked Laromendis.

“We might as well risk one of the knives,” said Gulamendis. “If we run into demons, these two blades will not count for much.”

“I still have the wand,” Laromendis said, patting his tunic.

“That might buy us a few minutes,” said the Demon Master, “but I’d rather not put that to the test. If an alarm is raised…?”

Laromendis said, “How do you propose attacking this door?”

His brother smiled at the inadvertent joke. “By stealth,” he answered.

“No, seriously, what are you thinking?”

“Hinges,” said Gulamendis, taking his blade edge to the top of the bottom hinge. It resisted, but after fussing with it and wiggling the blade, he managed to get it under the head of the hinge bolt, and when it came up slightly, he gripped it with powerful fingers and pulled straight up. “Got it,” he said softly.

The second hinge took longer but after several frustrating attempts, finally yielded to the brothers, leaving Gulamendis with bruised knuckles and a dull knife edge. The door protested as they pushed on the hinge side, but grudgingly gave and moved forward slightly. “The latch, it must be one of the long metal type,” said Laromendis.

“Let me see if I can squeeze through and free it from the other side.” They pushed and wiggled the door back as far as it could go, then the Demon Master squeezed through, barely clearing the side of the door and the nearby wall. Once on the other side, he said, “Move back, I need to push the door a little.” He did so, then Laromendis heard a door latch free up and suddenly the door began to wobble and fall.

His brother caught it and said, “I could use some help; this thing is heavy!”

Laromendis reached out and grappled with the hinge edge of the door and helped his brother swing it out of the way. Then they stopped and examined the locked room.

“What is this place?” whispered Laromendis.

The late afternoon light illuminated the room enough for both the brothers to see it had once been someone’s personal study. There were books and tomes against one wall, and a writing desk with a dried up inkwell and ancient quills. Rolls of brittle parchment lay scattered on the surface.

“My skin is itching,” said Gulamendis. “Whoever resided here practiced dark arts.”

“Is that why the demons didn’t open the door?”