“What?” she asked.

“Are those earplugs?” the valet asked.

“What do they look like?” she said, then sighted down the rifle and fired a shot.

Drewton shoved his hands over his ears. Indeed, in the small chamber, the shot was loud enough that she was annoyed he’d made her remove her earplug.

“You carry them with you?” Drewton asked.

“Steris does.” Apparently. Marasi had been a little surprised when Steris had pulled out a pair for herself, then—an unconcerned look on her face—handed a pair to Marasi.

“So you expected this to happen?”

“More or less,” Marasi said, watching for movement from the bandits.

He seemed aghast. “This sort of thing happens often?”

“Would you say it happens often, Steris?” Marasi asked.

“Hmm?” Steris said, removing an earplug. “What was that?”

Marasi fired a shot, then looked up. Think I winged that one. “The valet wants to know if this sort of thing happens often to us.”

“You more than me,” Steris said conversationally. “But when Lord Waxillium is around, things do tend to pop up.”

“Things?” Drewton said. “Pop up? This is a rusting train robbery!”

Steris regarded the valet with a cool expression. “Didn’t you inquire about your prospective master before entering Lord Waxillium’s employ?”

“Well, I mean, I knew he had an interest in the constabulary. Like some lords have an interest in the symphony, or in civic matters. It seemed odd, but not ungentlemanly. I mean, it’s not as if he was involved in the theater.”

They’ve gone quiet over there, Marasi thought, nervously tapping one finger against the rifle barrel. Were they going to try to cross over onto the top of her car again? One of the holes in the ceiling still dripped blood from the previous attempt.

To the side, Steris clicked her tongue disapprovingly at Drewton’s words. He hadn’t done his homework, which was a dreadful sin in Steris’s eyes. Little could be worse than entering a situation without being thorough.

“Is… is he going to come back?” Drewton asked.

“Once he’s finished,” Steris said.

“Finished with what?”

“Killing the rest of them, hopefully,” she said.

Marasi found herself surprised at Steris’s bloodthirst. Of course, the woman hadn’t been quite the same since her kidnapping eighteen months back. It wasn’t that Steris acted traumatized—but she’d changed.

“They aren’t trying to get to us anymore,” Drewton said. “Did they retreat?”

“Maybe,” Marasi said. Probably not.

“Should we go look?” Drewton asked.

“We?”

“Well, you.” He tugged at his collar. “Gunfights. I had not actually expected gunfights. Aren’t the servants usually left out of such extravagances?”

“Most of the time,” Marasi said.

“Except when the house blew up,” Steris added.

“Except then.”

“And… you know,” Steris said.

“Best not to mention it.”

“Mention what?” Drewton asked.

“Don’t worry about it,” Marasi said, glaring at Steris. Honestly. If the man couldn’t do a little research before taking a job—

“Wait,” Drewton said, frowning. “What exactly happened to Lord Ladrian’s previous valet?”

Motion in the hallway again. Marasi snapped her rifle up, ready to fire. However, the person who moved out into the hallway wasn’t one of the bandits, but an older woman in a fine traveling dress. A bandit walked behind her, gun to her head.