“Why the candles, then?”

Belinda and Astrid glanced at each other, then followed me in and closed the tall doors behind them with an ominous thud.

Astrid leaned toward me and spoke confidentially in my ear. “I think Kyrine is trying to impress you. She must like you!”

The candle light certainly gave the entrance hall a mysterious, old-fashioned feel, and there was no doubt that lighting them with magic was a subtle touch. Still, if Kyrine was trying to impress me, she’d need to do a bit better than that.

“Go on.” Astrid urged me, gesturing down the corridor. “It’s that way. She’ll be keen to meet you.

“Don’t I have to worry about traps?” I asked.

I didn’t know a lot about dungeons, but I’d played enough video games to know that any self-respecting dungeon contained deadly traps. A spike could come from the ground to impale me, or a corridor could be suddenly engulfed in flames.

I didn’t fancy either fate, but Belinda was shaking her head in answer to my question.

The psycher woman frowned. “No, you shouldn’t have to worry about traps. Kyrine has been forbidden from constructing them. The agency has reprimanded her on multiple occasions for doing so. She should have learned her lesson by now.”

Belinda’s answer didn’t fill me with much confidence, but I decided to press on.

“All right, no traps,” I said as I started cautiously down the passageway. “What about monsters?”

Belinda’s frown turned into a scowl. “Thankfully, Kyrine keeps her pets locked away.”

“They make a serious mess,” Astrid added, by way of explanation.

I gave them both a look. There was obviously more than a bit of history between these Outworlder women and Kyrine, but now wasn’t the time.

I continued down the hallway, heading toward the doors on the right-hand wall, where Astrid had pointed. The two Outworlder agents followed me at a short distance.

Despite Astrid and Belinda’s assurances, they had not entirely assuaged all of my fears. I was starting to get the impression that this dungeon had the potential to be an unpredictable place, so I kept my eyes open for trap-type spells. This hallway, at least, seemed to be clear of them for the moment.

The thick, luxuriant surface of the rug deadened the sound of my boots, but my newly acquired rifle slapped against my hip as I began to make my way down the long, candle-lit corridor.

Along the wall, standing to attention on granite plinths, were suits of armor that were most definitely not from Earth’s middle ages. My guess was that these were Outworlder suits of armor. The world of Eosor, from where the Outworlders had come, was not known for the practicality of its battle-dress.