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chair that sat close to the
fireplace. Cass crossed the room and examined the chair. The blue
upholstery was ripping in places, feathers used for stuffing spilling
out through the tears.
    She turned toward the back of the palazzo where she knew the
master bedroom would be, but then she noticed something odd
about the staircase. The handrail was covered in an even coat of
grime, but the dust on the steps themselves had been disturbed—
there were long bands of clear areas, as if someone had tried to hide
footprints by dragging a boot or a cloth back and forth.
    Someone had been on the third level recently.
Cass glanced up into the darkness as she craned her ears for the
sound of any movement above her. Nothing. Relaxing her right
hand, she shook out her fingers and then curled the knife back into
her grip.
Slowly she ascended the staircase.
The scent of incense was stronger here. She paused on the landing, again listening for the slightest indication that she was not alone.
The third floor ceiling was low, the corridor narrow. Wooden doors
huddled close together. This was where the Viaro servants once
lived.
Dusty footprints led down the dark hallway. Tentatively, Cass
crept forward, trying to keep her own shoes tucked inside the prints
made by others. She pushed open the first door and squinted in the
dim light. The room was empty except for a bed, its sheets tucked
neatly around the frame. She tried the second room. Another bed.
She paused with her hand on the handle of the third door. The scent
of incense was so powerful here that Cass almost turned and fled.
But when she opened the door, this room, too, was empty. The
bed was different, however, the sheets mussed, a blown-glass goblet
lying on its side on one of the pillows. Stepping boldly over to the
bed, Cass yanked back the sheets. She looked beneath each pillow.
A trail of reddish brown stained the linens on one side of the bed.
Blood.
She pulled the sheets back up to cover the spot and then knelt by
the bed and peered into the darkness beneath. Nothing but tangles
of dust. Another goblet sat upright on the floor on the far side of the
bed, still partially full of liquid. Cass went to sniff at the glass but
recoiled when she realized several drowned flies floated on the surface of the fluid.
With her stomach churning, she headed back out into the corridor
and finished checking the other three rooms. They were all the same.
Barren. Undisturbed.
Frustrated, Cass descended the stairs all the way to the lower
level. For a moment, she looked longingly at the front door. The
dust, the darkness of Palazzo Viaro was beginning to overcome her.
But it made sense to search the entire place while she was here. She
    headed down the gloomy hallway, wrinkling her nose in distaste at
the foul water that soaked her slippers. The palazzo definitely had
some flooding problems. A scratching sound made Cass jump. A pair
of shining copper eyes peered at her from a crack in the wall. Vermin
problems, too.
Ignoring the rat, Cass continued down the hallway. More closed
doors. She pressed her ear to the first one, listening for movement
beyond. Quiet. She tried the knob. The door swung open, revealing
what appeared to be a butler’s office—parchment scattered across the
desk, crates marked “linen” and “silver” stacked on shelves against
the wall. Apparently, the last Viaro relative had left in a hurry.
The next door was locked, as was the third. Cass could see the
doorway to the kitchen at the back of the house, just beyond one
more closed door on the left. The knob twisted beneath her fingers
and the door opened with a creak. She had expected a storage area,
but instead there was a small bed, desk, and bookshelf, all balanced
on stone blocks in the corner of the room, as though someone was
living down there.
A book sat open on the desk, its crumbling pages threatening to
pull loose from the binding. Cass knew there was almost no chance
it