"Ah. There you are," the voice said—a man's voice, with gravelly undertones. "And here I thought you weren't going to show. Serves me right."

Hina turned to see a man walk into the entry-room. He wore grey suit and his shaggy hair had been tied back in a long tail, his feet crammed into brown leather boots.

Someone had trimmed his ragged beard until it was almost neat.

Bruce appeared to be a reasonable approximation of a town councillor, or a wealthy trader. And then his mouth stretched open into a wild grin and the illusion shattered.

"What—what are you doing here?" Hina asked. She looked behind him, but there was no sign of the wolves that he'd had with him last time, at the Spire. Hina hurried back into the main part of the room, where there was space to manouvre. Where she could back out the door if she needed to.

Bruce paused in the doorway. "What's that supposed to mean?" His grin stayed fixed in place. There were about three metres between them. Hina could hit him with a stone before he could reach her, if she was quick.

"But. Weren't you with—"

Bruce held up a hand to interrupt her, shaking his head. "Oh, that. Got a better offer."

He strode forward, stopping in front of her, just a touch too close.

The lesser sign of guidance popped into Hina's mind, but she held back. She needed to find out about Kai first.

"Now, first order of business," Bruce said. "How the fuck did you get in here?"

"I knocked. I have—I have an invitation," Hina said. She dug into her pockets and pulled it out to wave the envelope in the air.

Bruce reached out in a lighting-fast movement and snatched it out of her hand. "And it just let you in?" He plucked out the letter and unfolded it, the motion more delicate than Hina would have expected of him. He looked up. "At least let me do my fucking job. Fuck's sake."

His big brown eyes scanned the text. And his eyebrows rose. "Oh, she's not going to be happy about this." He shook his head. "Well, then. I guess that's that." He handed the envelope back to Hina.

"That's... that?" Hina wasn't quite sure what had just happened.

"That's that. Conditionally speaking, you are a guest. All rights and responsibilities as implied."

"But. What are you doing here?"

"I'm the doorman. Don't you dare laugh." There was no risk of that. Bruce leaned in conspiratorially. "Still better than the last lot, I tell you what." His eyes narrowed. "Now, is this business, or pleasure?"

"Business or... pleasure?"

"Girl, what is the nature of your presence within this House?"

"I'm—where's Kai?"

"Ah. Good. Back on track, then." Bruce's grin widened. "He's here," he said. "Or he will be. He'll be back in time for dinner."

"Where is he? Is he okay?"

"Keep your trousers on." He looked down. "So to speak. Nora's taken him on a bit of a walk. Like I said, they'll be back before dinner." His voice got more serious. "Now. Will you be joining us? Vanh's been cooking up a storm all afternoon. Oh. I'm guessing he knew you were coming. That puts quite a few things into place."

"I don't think—"

"And Missus G's here too. She'll want to see you. She'd had quite a few things to say about you. Quite a few things. And plenty of questions besides—you made quite the impression."

"I need—"

"Fine, fine. I'll explain the situation." It felt like Hina was only hearing some of the conversation. "Like I said, that invitation grants you entry to the house as a guest, on the conditions as outlined. Formally speaking—and I'm required to inform you that I'm acting under instructions here—the house extends its conditional hospitality until noon tomorrow—subject to further extension—if—and only if—you consent to share a meal according to the terms of your invitation—gods know where you got that. No ifs ands or buts. And Kai won't be back for a few hours anyway." His grin grew wider. "Or you can decline, of course, and your conditional guesthood will be revoked. Your choice."

Hina looked down. "Fine. I accept."

"Delightful. Follow me and I'll show you to your room."

"My room?"

"'Accommodations will be provided'—that's what it says. In any case, you'll want to freshen up, change into something a bit." He gestured up with both palms. "You'll want to get off on the right foot. Dinner is a bit formal for my taste, but what can you do? We're in a bit of a downturn."

"Fine."

"Cheer up, love. Situation could always be worse. Come on, follow me."

Hina watched as he opened the door under the mirror and began to walk through. And then she followed him down the corridor.

He turned twice without hesitation and seemingly at random. Their path should have intersected the other corridor that Hina looked down, but Hina couldn't say for sure whether it did or not. Nothing looked familiar.

In this corridor, at least, there were paintings opposite every door and at every intersection, which Hina did her best to memorise. It was the only point of reference she could find in the seemingly endless maze.

They'd turned left at The Frog Ascending, and right at Ghostly Reflections. The paintings were unlabeled, so Hina was making up the names as she went along. She hoped there wouldn't be too many more turnings.

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Bruce stopped in front of an ordinary looking door. "Here we are," he opened the door. "This is you."

Hina glanced at the painting outside the doorway first, Tentacles on a Plate. Then walked inside.

The window was the first thing she noticed, opening on to a grove of—olive?—trees, long shadows among twisted and gnarled trunks, branches graced with halos of silvery green leaves. The sky was clear and slate grey—there was no sign of the heavy clouds that had filled the sky when she'd arrived.

The room was furnished with a bed, a wardrobe and a desk with a mirror above it. The walls were painted pale blue, the floor covered with a thick rug. An open door in one of the walls led to what looked like a washroom.

"Pretty nice, right?" Bruce said. "Big fella provides. Dinner's at sunset. Be ready. Until then, feel free to explore the House—you're a guest, so nothing too bad'll happen to you. Someone—probably me—will come get you when it's time for dinner."

"Is Kai—is he alright?"

"Best wait and ask him yourself, alright? Now, I've got better things to do. Sort yourself out, and I'll see you at dinner."

"Wait—"

The door closed firmly and a latch clicked into place.

* * *

Hina listened, ear to the door until Bruce's footsteps faded, and then tried the handle. It was unlocked.

The last thing she'd expected was to be invited to dinner, and Hina was off-balance. She'd been expecting a fight.

But if Kai wasn't even here, then there was no point in fighting.

So she would go to dinner? She didn't know what to expect. She wished Olivia was here.

Her best bet was to wait and see Kai at dinner—assuming he would really be there—and make a break for it then. Or afterwards, in the night.

Hina didn't know what the House wanted with either of them. Not really. It had definitely noticed her when she entered. But it didn't seem to be an immdiate threat. Maybe playing along for a while would give them their best chance of escaping together?

Or maybe it would get them both killed.

There was a presence in the air, a pressure. Less strong, yes, but she could still feel it if she thought about it. The House. And she was deep inside it now. Hina could almost feel the weight of it in her bones.

Hina hoped it didn't swallow her whole.

But she couldn't leave without Kai. She had to find him first.

Hina washed off the dirt of the road and changed into her new formal dress. It was dark blue with a long wide skirt and short sleeves.

The girl in the mirror looked like someone that Hina didn't quite recognise. A determined young woman with tawny skin and a worried frown almost baked into her face.

And she was thinner than she remembered. Well, no surprises there. The journey had been long and hard.

Her hair resisted her attempts to tame it, so she tied it back out of the way.

The belt—with her weapons on it—went on over Hina's formal dress. Maybe it was impolite to bring weapons to dinner, but Hina wasn't going to risk going into a room with either Gerda or Bruce without them. Not a chance.

And then she sat on the bed and cycled. The potentia was a raging river and came into her in a rush until she was full of the buzzing power—as full as she'd ever been.

The sun hadn't set yet.

Looking at the invitation again, Hina remembered that she needed to bring a present. For the House? The invitation was unclear. But she supposed there were no requirements either.

Except that she had to bring something.

And giving the right gift could be a big advantage. Getting on the House's good side might be the only way to get out of here with Kai in one piece.

If she was lucky.

She had a few options: the bell, the black knife, the book on sacrifice. The trinkets from the temple—thought she didn't know what they did, and she didn't want to risk giving offense unintentionally. And she had no intention of parting with the salt shaker, so that was out.

The knife was the least valuable, and a good choice for a present. She slid it into her belt.

And just in case, she tied the bell around her neck on a length of string, ringer still wrapped so that it wouldn't make any accidental noise.

If, for whatever reason, the knife was unacceptable, Hina had the bell available as a fallback.

In the mirror the bell looked like a strange choice for a necklace—a little too bulky, almost like a cowbell. But it was better than not bringing it. And it wouldn't fit in her pocket.

And she was sure that it would be rude to bring her backpack to dinner. No. What she had would have to do.

Hina got up and opened the door to her room. The hallway was empty, the tentacles of some sea creature sat there, ready to be eaten in the painting.

There was a line of characters carved into the frame of the painting, running all the way around it. They weren't in any language that she recognised, the characters twisting strangely, like—like patterns that had been pressed flat. Not as complex, certainly. But the resemblance was a strong one.

If you took a pattern, flattened it, and took out some of the smaller, less important lines... Was it writing? Were the patterns a language? Hina shook her head. Not the best time to be thinking about that.

She walked down the corridor to the left.

At the painting she named Lilacs on fire—which also had pattern-characters carved into the frame, she turned right, glancing at the paintings as she walked. Every single one had characters carved in a solid, unbroken ring running right around the picture, whatever it was.

Even the paintings that didn't have traditional frames had characters embedded into the edge of the canvas.

It didn't matter.

Hina tried a door at random, the door to the right of A Crow, Murdered. It was locked.

She tried another, two turns further along, opposite The Onion Guard. The handle turned, and she pushed the door open.

Inside was a small empty room with no windows, with a wide basin set into the floor. It wasn't dark—nowhere inside the building was truly dark. It was lit with gentle sourceless light, like the everpresent light in The Spire.

There was no other furniture in the room. Nothing else, just the basin.

Inside it, in a shallow layer at the bottom, a strange liquid shimmered and churned. It moved strangely, like it was being blown around by a breeze that Hina couldn't feel. It didn't look like water at all, the movements were all wrong.

The liquid called to Hina. Called out to something inside of her.

It would bring her power and strength and fullness of life. All of her problems would be gone in a flash. Resolved by overwhelming force.

An elixir of some kind?

Hina kneeled down at the edge of the basin, watching the liquid move. A strange, sweet smell wafted up from it.

"That's not for you," Bruce said, voice coming from behind her.

"What is it?" Hina asked, not turning away from watching it. "It feels powerful."

"Deadly, too. Come on, time for dinner."

"Tell me what it is."

"Not sure it has a name. But I tell you true, if you were to take a sip of that, you wouldn't survive the experience."

"Huh." Hina stood up quickly and turned. A flash of disappointment passed through her and faded. "Are you a werewolf?" It just popped out.

"What kind of a question is that?" He sounded amused.

"Are you?"

"Oh, something like that."

"And the wolves—the wolf-like things that were with you?"

"My girls."

"Are they here?"

"Just Nora." Bruce shook his head, a flash of sadness on his face. "Tzeni and Aleka didn't make it."

"The Sp—"

"Do not say that name here. Not now, not ever. Not inside this House."

"Sorry."

"Get a move on or we'll be late for dinner," Bruce said.

"And Kai will be there?"

"'course. Little fella's never late for dinner. Missus G wouldn't like that."

Hina followed Bruce through the maze of corridors. Left at Black Sun, right at Eggs and Bones and right again at The Talking Tree.

She repeated the directions over and over to herself. It was her way out.

The corridors were empty, at no point did they pass anyone, or even see anyone else. The only sound was their footsteps on the stone floor of the passage, and the soft, gentle humming of the House, a barely perceptable buzz, constant in the background.

The only things in the corridors were the paintings, and the occasional door. The paintings were all different, but each one had an element of strangeness.

They weren't like any of the paintings that Hina had seen in Grambe, but there hadn't been many of those. Mainly portraits in the town hall.

Bruce stopped in front of a door near the end of the corridor, opposite The Sky is Full of Bees.

He gave her a look and a nod, and then opened the door. He gestured for Hina to go in first.