It was late afternoon by the time Izramith arrived at the Andrahar house and the garden was bathed in orange sunlight. The place looked so idyllic that it was hard to believe that there was so much tension under the surface. That illusion proved hard to pierce.
There were no children playing on the veranda this time, so she crossed the yard, past the burbling fountain, the bench with the overhanging vine with its floppy flowers—they had fallen all over the seat—and up the steps to the front door. As seemed traditional in Barresh, it stood open and the sound of laughing children’s voices came from inside.
No security whatsoever. At Hedron, even Edyamor had a guard at the door to his family’s private residence.
In the hall, she found the twins playing in the knee-deep water of the fountai
