Han knew one way into Aerie House, and that was through the tunnels into the dungeons. Though he had no desire to pass that way again, it had its advantages. It seemed the residents of Aerie House were more interested in keeping people in their dungeons than keeping people out.

This time, there were no Bayars in the way. Shielded in glamours, Han soft-footed it up through the cellars into the main servant corridors.

It was darkman’s hour, and the corridors were deserted. He’d have to watch for servants and others returning from late-night trysts. He’d avoid the kitchens, where the baker’s helpers would be proofing the bread for the next day.

The question was—where would Bayar have stowed such a prize? Some marks kept their valuables in strongboxes under their beds; others in strongholds under the stairs. He hoped he wouldn’t have to slide under a bed with somebody in it.

Just where was Micah Bayar? Where had he been during the torture sessions in the dungeons? Why hadn’t he come with Fiona and Gavan when they’d gone looking for the armory? What mischief was he up to while Han was trapped underground?

Han did a quick search of the common areas. No strongholds in the cellars, nothing in the central keep. There was no choice but to head into the sleeping wing. But as he turned down that corridor, he saw light seeping under one of the doors. Somebody was awake.

At the same moment, he heard footsteps rapidly approaching from behind. Han flattened himself against the wall, layering a glamour overtop.

It was Micah Bayar, in traveling clothes, a carry bag slung over his shoulder. He rapped hard on the underlit door. A woman’s voice bade him enter, and he did.

Without pausing to think, Han ducked into the room next door, which, fortunately, was empty. He pressed his ear against the wall, but it was too thick—he could hear nothing.

The fireplace beckoned. Ducking inside, Han braced his feet against the sides and skinned up the chimney. The fireplaces were connected to a common chimney through a horizontal passageway. On hands and knees, he crawled along the passageway until he reached the fireplace in the adjacent room.

Muffled voices seeped up from below. After a moment’s hesitation, Han fit his feet into the crevices on either side and descended, nearly to floor level. Clinging upside down to the stonework like a bat, he dropped his head until he could peer out of the fireplace opening.

Micah and Lady Bayar were standing by the hearth, nearly close enough for Han to reach out and pinch. Lady Bayar held a glass of wine. There was an empty carafe on the table.