"I can leave you here," he offered, "but I'll have to tie you."
She moistened her lips, glanced first at the stairs, then at the door where the guards were raising a frantic howl. She shook her head.
"I'll go with you."
"The priests won't bother you, if they see that you were a prisoner."
"I'll go with you."
He was pleased, but angry with himself for the pleasure. An arrogant, spiteful, conniving wench, he told himself. She'd lied about Tokra. He grunted gruffly, seized the candle, and started down the stairs. When she started after him, he stiffened and glanced back, remembering the barbed pike.
As he had suspected, she had picked it up. The point was a foot from the small of his back. They stared at each other, and she wore her self-assured smirk.
"Here," she said, and handed it casually. "You might need this."
They stared at each other again, but it was different this time. Bewildered, he shook his head and resumed the descent toward the vaults. The guards were battering at the door behind them.