Broken Crossroads (Knights of the Shadows Book 1) by Patrick LeClerc Page A

the passageway. Trilisean paused to inspect the door at the far end, then unlocked and opened it. She stepped lightly through, followed by Conn.
    They found themselves in a hallway which wrapped around an open central well a hundred feet across. The wall behind them extended in both directions, and contained several doors. On the opposite side was a balustrade, beyond which they could see a large open area through which rose huge columns, stretching to the vaulted ceiling above. The columns were carved with serpentine designs coiling about them, as though huge snakes climbed toward the unseen sky. The detail was painstaking, each scale carefully rendered, the illusion only broken by the colored veins of ore in the stone which ran uninterrupted through the reptilian forms.
    Conn took a step toward the railing and peered over. The space below was a vast cathedral, row upon row of stone benches facing an altar behind which stood a huge statue of a being somewhere between man and god and dragon, accented and detailed in gems and precious metals.
    Trilisean looked over, raised an eyebrow, and whistled under her breath.
    “I don't think we could get that back to your pawnbroker friend,” Conn whispered. “Not in one trip anyway.”
    She replied with a wry smirk. “See how big your cut is, you keep that attitude.”
    There was no immediately obvious way down into the temple proper, so Trilisean moved to the nearest door. It was smaller than those through which they had already passed, and less ornate, with some complex serpentine bas relief carved in the stone, but no ornamentation. She gave it a quick glance, then paused.
    “Problem?”
    “I'm not the first to try this door,” she frowned.
    “Led you on with its coy, innocent looks, did it?”
    “There are scratches around the lock,” she ignored him, “and at the jamb.” She completed her examination with her tools, then opened it.
    They glided through the door in long practiced concert and found themselves in a richly appointed bedchamber. Trilisean opened her lantern and paused, reverently exulting in the reflected glory of the rich appointments.
    The chamber was large, dominated by a vast, canopied bed, covered in faded silks, heavy with embroidery. To one side of the chamber was a bath of marble, set into the floor, jars of costly oils on its edge, a copper boiler beyond it. A gilt encrusted wardrobe and huge, gold framed mirror stood on the opposite wall. The walls, the ceiling and even the floor were inlaid with fantastic scenes in silver, gold and copper. The whole room was littered with knickknacks and decoration worth more than Conn had earned in a dozen years in the Free Companies or Trilisean had stolen in the same time.
    Once the shock of the scope of wealth in the room passed, they noticed the age and decay. The tub was dry, stained with mineral scale, as though the water had evaporated slowly. The perfumes and oils were congealed in their crystal stoppered vials. The hangings and bedclothes were faded and worn. This chamber had been vacant for long years.
    It had also been violated. Clothes were scattered across the floor, tables overturned, riches strewn about.
    “Vaigh,” she muttered.
    “Hmm?”
    “I'll bet that sorry excuse for a thief got this far, ransacked this chamber, and took off with what he could carry.”
    “Shocking.”
    She tossed her head angrily. “This is different. There's no art to this. ” Her gesture took in the pillaged room. “He just swept loot into a sack. I saw things he brought to Fayl. He stepped on things in here worth twice what he carried away. His kind really gives thieves a bad name.”
    “Well, what's the plan now?” he asked.
    She shook her head, pulling a bag from her pack. She moved carefully around the room, picking up a few loose gems and pieces of discarded jewelry. She rolled those up carefully, then examined the walls slowly, painstakingly. A trace of her grin returned as she searched the wall behind the