Alina lounged on the couch for a time, but soon grew restless and began pacing around the small home. She felt a certain degree of familiarity with her surroundings, having just been through an ordeal in the place. It really was rather a nice home when she thought about it, with draperies on the brocaded windows and wall hangings embroidered with intricate patterns, and thick rugs that invited her to slip off her shoes and move about barefoot.

As usual, she was not satisfied with mere walking. Alina's body cried out for more motion; it cried out for the dance. She began practicing some basic movements, and those basic movements grew and evolved into a complex web of footwork that carried her throughout the building as she rotated her hips and shimmied her shoulders. She waltzed through the water closet, lumbada'd around the living room, and bounded through the bedroom. As she twirled past the bed her toes caught on an edge sticking up from beneath one of the thick rugs, and she nearly tripped. Curious, she bellied down and peeled back the thick rug.

"Galloping griffins!" She said in surprise, translating the Fallieni expression into Tradespeak for no reason. Beneath the rug was a large metal hatch inset in the floor. Its heavy hinges were well oiled, and it gave off a faint mechanical smell. There was an industrial strength combination lock on it. Alina gave the dial a few spins and then stood up and replaced the rug as best she could.

The dancer paced back and forth, wondering about what she had found. Was it merely a safe, containing Esmeralda's most prized belongings? Or was it a hatch to an underground lair filled with sex slaves? Or something far more sinister.

No one knew; not Alina, not the Thayne, not the Elvish Inquisition, and not the writer.

Only time, and the sequel, would tell.