Ahead, an intersection loomed. Down the right-hand passage, a guard paced slowly.
Vydys breathed in sharply. "There—he watches over Zenaor's chambers!"
Craig pushed her forward.
The guard came about, his face a bleak mirror of suspicion. His hand hovered by his weapon.
Vydys said, "I seek the Lord Zenaor."
"At this hour?" Irritation pushed aside distrust. "My lord sleeps."
Ever so casually, Craig eased closer.
"Are you sure?" Vydys' hand came up in a helpless, perplexed gesture. "They told me—"
Craig turned and side-stepped, as if to hear them both the better.
The guard scowled. "Listen—"