After the intermission, Lyryk returned to the stage. Eliam joined her a few moments later. His face was pale, as if he were ill. He picked up his harp and plucked a mournful tune. She tapped the rhythm on her drum, letting him set the tempo.

“Are you alright?” she whispered.

“Yeah,” he hesitated. “No. I sensed something… wrong from the upper room. It’s warded with a spell that shouldn’t be here.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that spell shouldn’t be in this house.”

Lyryk gave him a puzzled glance. “What spell?”

“I felt one like it on a job a dozen seasons ago. We had a bloodsucker holed up in a wizard’s tower near Breakwater.”

They reached the end of the tune, and by unspoken agreement, picked up complementing string instruments. Lyryk picked out a quick tune on her dulcimer. Eliam echoed the phrase back on his lute. They played back and forth, each improvising a musical bar, or several. Their audience watched with rapt attention as the pair showed off their respective fingering styles. When they finished, those in the room erupted in applause and foot-stomping.

The pair played for another glass, then took a second break.

Lyryk found her way to the stair leading to the upper floor. She stepped into an alcove and cast a spell to make the eyes of others slide past her as she moved around. She’d need to use even more caution as she navigated the upper floor. Her footprints would show if she stepped in anything, and hangings would rustle if she brushed against them. Gods forbid if she bumped into someone.

Where the first floor was well lit with dark paneling trimmed in shades of red, the second floor was dark. As her vision adjusted, she noted the red décor had turned from bright shades to the darker, bloodier tones. The air held a hint of copper around the edges as she breathed in the fetor. Eliam was right. Someone practiced blood magic here.

She followed the stench of blood to the warded door Eliam had told her about. There it was, the faint glow of magic she could only sense when she didn’t look directly at it. The music in her head hit a discordant note as she probed the ward. It made her teeth ache.

Use caution, Bard.

The voice of her four-legged companion echoing in her mind made her stop. Biscuit?

Great danger here.

She went back down to the conservatory to get ready for the next set.

(To be continued)