“Getting something,” he said.

  Felix moved closer and studied the stick’s movement. “Multiple layers. At least three separate systems overlapping near the entrance.” He gestured for Roderick to adjust the angle. “More around the windows. The whole building is protected.”

  “Can we get through them?”

  “Given enough time? Yes.” Felix stepped back. “But enough time might mean hours. Every ward we disable increases the chance someone notices.”

  I studied the mill’s layout. The rear entrance sat thirty paces from our position. A clear approach if we moved quickly. But between us and that door lay at least two detection fields and whatever other defenses we could not see from here.

  “What about the guards?” I asked Roderick.

  “Henrick and I can handle two. Maybe three if they’re not expecting trouble.” The scarred guard’s voice held no boast. Just the calm assessment of someone who knew his capabilities. “But if they sound an alarm before we reach them, everyone inside comes running.”

  “So we need to move fast and hit hard.”

  “Fast and quiet. Hard comes after.” Roderick pointed toward the north corner guard. “He’s furthest from the door. We take him first, then move on the east side. Thirty seconds if everything goes right.”

  “And if it doesn’t?”

  “Then we improvise.” Henrick checked his axe. “We’re good at improvising.”

  We spent the next hour observing.

  The guards rotated on a predictable schedule. Every ninety minutes, the men outside traded positions with guards from within the mill. A brief overlap period when all external positions were manned. Then the previous shift disappeared inside while the new men settled into their posts.

  “Standard security rotation,” Roderick noted. “Professional but not military. They’re used to watching for trouble, not fighting it.”

  “The overlap is our problem,” Henrick added. “When the shifts change, we’d be facing four guards instead of two. Bad odds even with surprise.”

  “So we move between rotations. When only two guards are outside and they’ve been on duty long enough to get comfortable.” I checked the sun’s position. The afternoon had passed while we watched. “How long until the next change?”

  “Another hour, maybe less.” Brennan had been quiet since we reached the observation point. Now he shifted his weight and rubbed his bad leg absently. “After that, they’ll have fresh guards for the evening shift. More alert. Probably more dangerous.”

  I nodded. “Then we move before the change.”

  The sun dropped lower in the sky.

  The guards outside the mill grew bored with their posts. I watched them shift their weight and check the tree line with decreasing frequency. One produced a flask and took a drink. The other leaned against the wall and let his attention wander.

  Professional but not military. Roderick had been right. These men knew their jobs, but they had grown comfortable with routine. They expected threats to come from the road. And they expected warning from the wards that protected the approaches.

  They did not expect us.

  “Ready?” Roderick whispered.

  I nodded. Felix nodded. Henrick’s hand tightened on his axe.

  “Remember,” Roderick continued. “Fast. Quiet. No alarms.” He looked at Felix and me. “The moment we take down the outside guards, you move on those wards. Every second counts.”

  “Understood.”

  “Good.” Roderick rose into a crouch. Henrick mirrored him on the other side of our hiding spot. Both men handed us their detection sticks and drew clubs from their belts. Not their primary weapons. Quieter tools for quiet work.

  “On my mark.”

  The guard at the north corner yawned and stretched. His partner at the east wall stared at nothing in particular.

  “Now.”

  Roderick and Henrick moved like shadows given form. They covered thirty paces of open ground in seconds with no wasted motion or sound beyond the whisper of boots on grass.

  The north guard had just enough time to register movement before Roderick’s club caught him behind the ear. He folded without a sound. Roderick caught him before he hit the ground and lowered him silently.

  Henrick reached the east guard half a heartbeat later. The man had started to turn at some sound or instinct. Too slow. The axe-man’s club connected with his temple and dropped him like a puppet with cut strings.

  Felix and I were already moving. The detection stick in his hand pointed toward the rear door. The vibration intensified as we approached.

  “Here,” he said. “Alarm ward. Trigger linked to the door mechanism.”

  I examined the pattern while Roderick and Henrick bound their unconscious captives. The inscription work matched what we had seen in the channel. It’d been done by the same hand with the same techniques. The glyphwright who had prepared these defenses had been thorough but consistent. And consistency meant predictability.

  “Same vulnerability as the others.” I applied the disruption compound. The ward flickered and died. “Clear.”

  We moved to the next ward. Then the next. Each one disabled with the speed that came from repetition. Felix worked beside me with matching the efficiency of two journeymen who had learned to complement each other’s skills.

  The rear door stood unprotected within five minutes.

  “Inside?” Roderick asked. He had positioned himself beside the entrance with his war hammer now in hand. Henrick flanked the other side.

  I tested the door. Unlocked. Either confidence in their wards or simple carelessness.

  “Inside,” I confirmed. “Adrian’s in there somewhere. Let’s bring him home.”

  Roderick nodded once. Then he pushed open the door and led us into the mill.

  Chapter 32

  Shift Change

  The mill’s interior smelled of dust and disuse and something else. Something sharp that made my nose twitch. Ward compounds. Fresh ones. The kind of smell that meant active inscriptions nearby.

  Roderick led the way with his war hammer ready. Henrick followed with his axe in a two-handed grip. Felix and I came behind them with our tools prepared and our attention fixed on every surface.

  The entry hall extended ahead of us into darkness. Shuttered windows blocked what remained of the afternoon light. Old machinery loomed against the walls and the grinding stones and drive shafts of a long-dead mill cast strange shadows in the gloom.

  “Any readings?” Roderick whispered.

  Felix and I swept our detection sticks left, then right. There was a faint vibration from both directions.

  “Wards on both sides,” he said. “Can’t tell which is worse from here.”

  I listened and heard footsteps somewhere above us. I could hear muffled voices and the sound of creaking floorboards under weight.

  “Sounds like they’re upstairs,” I said.

  Roderick nodded. “We clear the ground floor first. Don’t want anyone coming up behind us.” He and Henrick moved left. Felix and I followed.

  The first room held nothing but dust and cobwebs.

  Old sacks slumped against the walls amid the remains of grain that had rotted decades ago. A workbench stood in the corner with tools so rusted they had fused together. It had stopped being a working mill long before the consortium claimed it.

  I pointed my detection stick at the far wall. No vibration.

  We moved on.

  The second room was a different matter.

  Felix’s stick began to tremble the moment he crossed the threshold. He froze and raised his fist in the signal to stop.

  “Strong reading,” he said. “Something on the floor.”

  I moved forward carefully and examined the floorboards. The wood looked ordinary at first glance, worn and stained by years of use. But when I knelt closer, I lines inscribed into the grains of the wood. So fine they almost disappeared into the natural patterns. A pressure plate ward designed to trigger when someone stepped on the wrong board.

  “Detection and alarm,” I said after studying the pattern. “Step on that plank and everyone in the building knows we’re here.”

  “Can you disable it?”

  “Give me a minute.”

  The ward’s design matched what we had seen outside.

  “Clear. But watch your step. There might be more.”

  We found three more pressure plates in that room alone. Whoever had prepared this building had expected visitors. They just hadn’t expected visitors who could find their traps.

  The kitchen was at the back of the mill.

  We found it because we found its guard first. A man sat at a table with a cold meal in front of him and a sword propped against the wall within reach. He hadn’t heard us approach or expected anyone to make it past the wards.

  Henrick moved before the man could react. One smooth motion from the doorway to the table. The club came down and the guard slumped forward into his dinner.

  “Bind him,” Roderick said. He scanned the room for additional threats.

  Felix produced rope from his pack while I checked the guard’s gear. Standard equipment. A sword. A knife. A coin purse with consortium markings on the leather. Nothing that identified who specifically employed him, but the connection was clear enough.

  We bound him securely and gagged him with strips torn from his own shirt. He would wake up eventually. But by then, we would be gone.

  “How many does that make?” Felix asked.

  “Two outside. One here.” I did a quick count. “Petra said six to eight total. That leaves three to five more somewhere in the building.”

  “Plus whoever is upstairs with Adrian.”

  “Plus whoever is upstairs.”

  The voices above us had continued throughout our search. Indistinct. Impossible to make out specific words. But the tone carried down through the floorboards. Casual conversation. Men who didn’t expect trouble.

  That’s about to change.

  The stairs presented a problem.

  Old wood. Narrow treads. The kind of construction that announced every step with groans and creaks. We couldn’t climb them quietly. Not all four of us. Not with weapons and gear.

  “One at a time,” Roderick said. “Test each step before putting your weight on it. Distribute the load to minimize noise.”

  “You’ve done this before,” I said.

  “Sieges. Clearing houses in territory we’d taken.” His scarred face held memories I did not want to examine too closely. “The principles are the same. Move slow. Move smart. Don’t let them know you’re coming until it’s too late.”

  He started up the stairs with the careful patience of a man who knew that haste killed. Each step received careful testing before he committed his weight. The wood groaned softly beneath him, but nothing loud enough to carry.

  Henrick followed. Then me. Then Felix.

  The detection stick in my hand began to vibrate halfway up.

  I stopped. Raised my fist. Waited for the others to freeze.

  “Ward on the landing,” I breathed. “Alarm type. Triggers when someone reaches the top step.”

  Roderick looked back at me. His expression asked the obvious question.

  “I can reach it from here.” I stretched my arm toward the landing. The ward’s inscription covered the final step and extended onto the floor beyond. Carefully placed to catch anyone who climbed the full staircase. “Hold position.”

  The disruption compound did its work. The ward flickered and died.

  “Clear.”

  We continued upward.

  The upper floor held more rooms than I expected.

  Doors lined a central corridor that ran the length of the building. Some stood open to reveal empty chambers. Others remained closed. The voices came from somewhere at the corridor’s end. Two men, perhaps three, engaged in what sounded like a card game.

  “Adrian’s behind one of these doors,” I whispered. “We need to find him before we deal with the guards.”

  “Or we deal with the guards first and search at leisure,” Henrick suggested.

  “They might hurt him if they hear fighting. Or use him as leverage.” I shook my head. “We find him. Get him ready to move. Then we handle the guards.”

  Felix raised his detection stick and swept it across the corridor. The wood vibrated steadily as it passed certain doors and skipped others entirely.

  “That one,” he said. He pointed to a door three rooms down from where we stood. “Strong reading from multiple wards. They’ve got something valuable behind it.”

  “Or someone.”

  He nodded. “Or someone.”

  We moved down the corridor with the slow care that had brought us this far. Each closed door represented a potential threat. An enemy we had not accounted for. A trap we had not detected.

  The detection sticks remained still until we reached the marked door.

  Then they went mad.

  The vibration in Felix’s hand became so intense he nearly dropped the stick.

  “It has multiple layers,” he said. His voice stayed calm despite the evidence of serious ward work. “There’s at least four separate systems. Maybe five.”

  I examined the door without touching it. Inscriptions covered the frame, the panels, and the hinges. Even the lock mechanism bore patterns that pulsed with contained energy.

  “Detection, alarm, binding, and something else.” I traced the outermost pattern with my eyes. “There’s a feedback loop built into the design. Anyone who tries to force this door gets hit with their own energy reflected back at them.”

  “Can you disable it?”

  “Given time. But it will take longer than the others.” I looked down the corridor toward the sound of voices. “We need those guards dealt with first. I can’t work on something this complex while watching my back.”

  Roderick and Henrick exchanged a glance. The silent communication of men who had fought together for years.

  “We’ll handle it,” Roderick said. “How long do you need?”

  “Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen if there are complications.”

  “You’ll have it.” Roderick gripped his war hammer and started toward the end of the corridor. Henrick fell into step beside him. “Just be ready to move when we get back.”

  They disappeared around a corner. A moment later, I heard the crash of a door being kicked open. Shouts of surprise. The sounds of brief, violent combat.

  Then silence.

  I worked on the wards while Felix watched the corridor.

  The outer layers came apart with the relative ease of standard alarm patterns and detection fields. The consortium’s glyphwright had skill, but he also had habits. They applied the same techniques to every protection they created. And habits meant predictability.

  The feedback loop presented more challenges. It was a sophisticated design that took incoming energy and redirected it back at its source. It was clever work. The kind of trap that would punish anyone who tried to brute force their way through.

  But I didn’t need to brute force it. I just needed to find where the loop connected to its power source.

  I scanned the frame and searched for the junction point. The decorative scrollwork made it difficult to trace the patterns beneath.

  “There.” Felix pointed to a spot near the top of the door frame. “See how the lines converge under that flourish? That’s your junction.”

  He was right. The pattern drew energy from ambient sources, stored it, and released it when triggered. Disrupting that junction would collapse the entire system.

  I applied the compound and felt the ward structure shiver.

  The feedback loop died and the binding ward followed. The detection field crashed. Then the alarm.

  The door stood unprotected.

  “Done,” I said.

  Felix tried the handle. It was locked, but only with a physical mechanism now.

  We both looked at the door.

  “On three?” Felix suggested.

  I nodded once. “On three.”

  We hit the door together. It shuddered but held. My shoulder throbbed from the impact.

  “Again,” I said.

  The second attempt cracked the frame. The third sent us stumbling through as the door gave way. I caught myself on a table and Felix went to one knee.

  “Roderick makes that look easy,” Felix muttered as he stood and rubbed his shoulder.

  “Roderick outweighs both of us combined.”

  I looked up. Adrian sat against the far wall with his hands bound behind him and his ankles tied together.

  He looked worse than I had feared. Bruises marked his face where someone had hit him and his clothes were torn and dirty. His eyes found us in the doorway with the glazed quality of someone who hadn’t slept in days.

  But he was alive. We had found him.

  “Took you long enough,” he said. His voice came out as a croak, dry and rough from dehydration.

  “We had to make an appointment.” I knelt beside him and started working on the ropes around his wrists. “The consortium’s scheduling system leaves something to be desired.”

  A weak laugh escaped him. More cough than humor. “I’ll file a complaint.”

  Felix cut the ropes at his ankles while I freed his hands. The bonds fell away. Adrian tried to stand and his legs buckled immediately. Days of restricted circulation had left his limbs numb and weak.

  “Easy.” I caught him before he fell. “Take it slow. We’ve got time.”

  “Do we?” His eyes found mine. Clear now despite the exhaustion. “They talked about something. A plan. I could not hear all of it, but...”

  “Later. Right now, we focus on getting you out.”

  Roderick and Henrick appeared in the doorway. Both men bore the evidence of recent combat with blood on their knuckles and fresh cuts on their arms. But they stood upright and their opponents presumably didn’t.

  Roderick’s expression shifted when he saw Adrian. The controlled professionalism cracked for just a moment.

  “Your Highness.” His voice was rough. “We failed you. We should have⁠—”