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Stavros arrives last and gestures for us to fall in with him as he eases open the gate. We dart along the path through the now-empty yard to the front door.
The hinges squeak at Stavros’s push. I wince inwardly.
“What’s going on out there?” someone calls from up the stairs. They must assume it’s their comrades returning.
My power flares in my chest as abruptly as the flames outside, and I lose a couple of seconds as I tighten my hold around it. My fist clenches, pressing against my chest.
A brief lance of pain shoots through my lungs, and I have to suck in a breath against a gasp.
Most of my companions have already rushed forward. Rheave shoots a crackling arrow up the staircase, and a body crumples against the banister.
Stavros prowls down the lower hallway. As he lunges into a room, two of Voleska’s people hurry to follow him while the other creeps up the stairs alongside Rheave.
From the muffled grunts and groans that follow, they’re taking down any remaining scourge sorcerers with brisk efficiency. Recovered from the momentary backlash of my magic, I motion the devout over to the narrower staircase I spot leading down through a gloomy doorway.
“This way,” I whisper. “The accomplices might be in the cellar.”
And so might more scourge sorcerers. I keep my knife in my hand as we slink down the stairs, my ears pricked for any sound in the space beyond.
There’s a door at the bottom, keeping whatever’s below shut away. My skin crawls.
We’ve almost reached it when the scuff of footsteps above has me spinning around. A woman who isn’t one of our companions is just poking her head through the doorway.
She hisses at the sight of us and jerks her hands as if to direct some kind of magic. But my hand moves faster.
My knife whips through the air and plunges straight into her throat.
As our attacker collapses at the top of the stairs, the devout pales. Obviously I should be the one to deal with the body on our way out.
I test the doorknob and find it turns smoothly. I push it open to reveal a wide, dark room where cots and the figures lying on them form only vague impressions in the darkness.
I’ve already snatched my other knife from my boot, but no one springs at us. A couple of the figures stir beneath their sheets.
Carefully, the devout lights the small lantern sitting on the floor just inside the doorway. The flickering glow illuminates eight sleeping figures who don’t react to the light at all.
Of course not. They’ve all sacrificed their eyes along with so much else.
“Start waking them and guiding them up the stairs,” I murmur to the devout. “You’ll probably need to tell them that they’re being called on to serve their great purpose or something like that. I’ll clear the way and come back to help you.”
At his nod, I clamber up the stairs. At least with their blindness, I only have to move the fallen body out of tripping distance, not out of view.
As I wipe my retrieved knife on the woman’s tunic, Stavros barges back into the front hall. He takes in the scene with an approving tip of his head.
“The rest of the house is clear,” he says.
I point to the cellar stairs. “We found the sacrificial accomplices—I’m going to help bring them up.”
“I’ll make sure you can get to the wagon safely.”
I dash down to the cellar to find that the devout has already roused all of the sacrificial accomplices. They went to sleep wearing their shrouds, but the fall of the fabric reveals the misshapen forms beneath. They’re sitting up, a few getting to their feet, mumbling with confusion.
A quiver in the air tells me the devout is employing his calming magic. I try to pitch my voice to be as soothing as possible too. “Come on now, everyone. Let’s get up the stairs, and you’ll accomplish everything you could have wanted to.”
I have to help a couple of the armless forms stand up. They stumble toward the stairs, all of them missing something from their lower extremities, whether merely toes or an entire lower leg.
With my hand on one of the mutilated backs, I support the accomplice’s balance going up the steps, then hustle back down to assist another.
A choked sound reaches my ears from above. When I return, I find one of Voleska’s people staring at the lurching procession with her fingers pressed to her lips.
