It was easy enough to retreat back into the body of the house until a lone monk ambled past. It was only slightly more taxing to cosh the luckless votary over the head, and then a couple more times for good measure, strip him, and bung him in the private chapel. As an added twist of the screw, it was out with the lockpicks so that Lief could secure the door, and let Abnasio boggle about that one.

Lief was well aware that there was a clock ticking on the whole venture now: the missing devotee would be noticed, or located, or Abnasio would realize he had forgotten his sacred disemboweling fork and head back to his chambers for it. Lief needed to get in, get Enth, and get out.

Properly be-robed, he headed back for the cellar stairs, uncomfortably aware that if the Brotherhood had some sort of ritual greeting or signal so far hidden to him, then this little plan was going to unravel very fast indeed.

He passed three of them on his way without anyone calling him out. He made sure that he moved with the same eager, purposeful tread as they. That seemed to suffice, for now.

Descending the stairs, he entered a world reeking of incense, the air stale and dry and hot with the fires that the Brotherhood were banking up. He had to force himself not to stop and gawk: there was a big chamber here, surely larger than any legitimate cellar needed to be, the ceiling propped up on what looked to be far too few pillars. At one end, the radiant visage of Armes cast back the flames, that same heroic countenance that Lief had seen all over the city that bore his name. Here, a life-size effigy of the man-god was officiating over a pair of high fires, and between them…

Lief swallowed. Between them was a great big slab on which something close to a hundred different knives and saws and other implements had been arrayed, no doubt each one with its own purpose and significance. It was all golden and gleaming, and the monks were singing happily about it, and everyone was grinning almost blissfully at the thought of what it was all for. It was one of the most skin-crawling sights in Lief’s shadowy life.

No Enth though. The guest of honor had yet to be brought forward.

He made a circuit of the room, head bowed as if in prayer but sneaking every glimpse he could past his cowl. There were more monks in here than before. The place was filling up, but still fairly aimlessly, as though these were early arrivals who simply had nothing better to do than wait.

Still a little time, then…

He walked from the room, playing the role of a man who knew where he was going, and started to unobtrusively find out what else the cellar held.

It held Enth.