Vane stepped toward the center of the room, reaching out to touch the metal surface of a small, iron brazier used for boiling surgical tools. He pulled his hand back. “It’s still warm. The ashes are fresh.”
“Look at the tables,” Mira said, running to a stone ledge. Half-eaten portions of salted meat sat in wooden bowls, the fat still glistening, not yet congealed. Used surgical tools; curved needles and bone saws stained with fresh residue, lay scattered across a linen sheet as if dropped in a violent hurry.
There were enough beds here to treat an entire platoon of elite warriors. But the room had been evacuated with an efficiency Vane was still trying to capture in his mind.
They had missed them by minutes. The air still vibrated with the ghost of their departure.
“They knew we were c
