"Wut-" it rumbles as I close, my sword slashing into its side below its foul armpit. My blade digs in about a cubit before striking bone. The creature bellows in pain, as loud as a harpooned sea lion. As I pull my blade out, its arm swings reflexively, batting me through the air. I miss the barrels by a narrow margin and hit the floor rolling, thunking into the sturdy wooden wall. A stinging in my thigh on my sickle side tells me I didn't keep my blades entirely clear as I rolled.

I've bought enough time for the others to get off the platform. As I rise, I see Bolin lift his mace in the air and roar out a challenge before charging the brute. Enturi is with him, dagger in one hand and the other hand outstretched as though he's going to slap the half-ogre into submission. Beyond him, Lynae slinks along the wall.

"Raid!" thunders out the ogre half-breed, reaching behind him to pull a four-cubit-long piece of pier piling from its resting place against the wall.

Damn if I'm going to let the beard have the glory of this kill. I move in again. Before I can close, Bolin slams his mace hard into the ogre's thigh and a sick crack - like green wood snapping - pops in the chamber. An instant later, the ogre's club slams into Bolin, propelling him forcefully through the air to hit hard against the wall with a thundering boom. The wall timbers buckle under the impact, and the dwarf drops to the floor and lies there motionless. I can't spare him a second glance as I pass. One moment of inattention and I could be splattered against the wall as well.

Enturi slips in and touches the leathery gray-green arm of the creature before it can begin its backswing, and it howls and drops the club, pressing back against the wall in fear. The hell? I've never seen Enturi pull that trick before, but it's pretty damn impressive. I leap forward, slashing my sword up across the creature's chest while my sickle bites into its thigh. Lynae sticks it from the other side and then dances backwards. The brute roars in defiance. It shakes off the effect of Enturi's touch and raises its huge fists to smite the next assailant. I feint in and the half-ogre steps forward to punch me, but the leg that Bolin had smashed buckles beneath it and it falls screaming to the floor. Consumed by pain, the creature cannot effectively defend itself. I hack at its head until it slumps into bloody stillness.

For long moments I stand beside it, breathing heavily and covered in its blood, blades at the ready, watching and waiting. "It's dead," I announce, finally.

"I think we figured that out," sneers Enturi from behind me.

"Yeah, the watchers often know the result before the fighters," I reply in kind. I turn around to see him helping the dwarf to stand. Bolin is looking weak; his skin an ashy gray behind his beard. Still, I'm surprised he's standing so soon after that blow. I wouldn't be.

"Can you continue?" Enturi asks him. The dwarf nods shakily.

"I have to," he says.

"Heal yourself," I tell him. He shakes his head.

"Another invocation so soon would exhaust me, and so serve no purpose. Best to wait until after we take out Jeamo, when some of you might need it as well."

I look around the room. Beyond the corpse of the half-ogre, Lynae is crouched next to a closed door, her hands moving just under the knob. I join her, weapons in hand, the other two right behind me. There is the brief glint of a lockpick, a faint click, and then she stands up, giving us a satisfied nod.

"Go!" urges Enturi. Lynae turns the knob and I push through, blades ready. The rest of the second floor is one room. In the center is a big block of a wooden table, fitted with leather straps for restraints and covered in dried blood. The walls are hung with many small blades and hooks and other instruments of torture. Candles, thin elegant yellow-gold tapers that must be from outside the wall, burn in tall metal holders like fire-tipped spears jutting from the floor, and smoky incense burners shaped like cauldrons hang on light chains from hooks in the ceiling. A few jars and vases, holding goddess knows what, are arranged next to the walls. In one corner are a bloody wooden stool and a small wooden desk, covered in linen papers and scroll cases.

Only one problem. Jeamo isn't here.