I HAD NO TIME to waste. I set out to find Sophie. She was alive. I knew it.

My confrontation with Norcross had given me instant status among the castle staff. I was given a name, Hugh the Brave, or, I was told, with respect to Norcross's wrath, Hugh theBrief. People who I sensed served the duke only out of fear or obligation came and whispered their support. I was able to make a few useful friends.

There was Bette the cook, a chubby, red-faced woman with a sharp tongue who kept the kitchen running like a spotless ship. And Jacques, the upstairs valet du chambre, who took meals next to me in the kitchen. Even a cheerful sergeant at arms at the court, Henri, who chuckled at my jokes.

I questioned all of them, asking if they had heard of a fair, blond woman held captive in the castle, keeping my reasons close to the vest. No one had. Checked the brothels? The sergeant winked. Once the nobles have no use for 'em, they'd be sent there. So I did. I made the rounds, pretending to be a choosy customer. But, thank God, no one fitting Sophie's description was among the poor whores at Treille.

You look a little drawn in the face, for a jester, Bette, the cook, observed one morning as she pounded out her dough. Your lost sweetheart again?

I wished I could take her into my confidence. Not mine, Bette, but a friend's, I lied. Someone asked me to inquire.

Afriend's , you say. The cook eyed me skeptically. She seemed to play with me. Is she highborn or common?

I looked up from my bowl. How would a rogue like me know anyone highborn? I grinned. Except you, perhaps....

Oh yes, me... Bette cackled. I'm the duke's own blood. That's why I slave in this hearth until dark every day.

She laughed and went about her chores. But when she returned lugging a pot, she crept behind me and said confidingly, Perhaps it's the Tavern you want, love.

I looked up. The Tavern?

She reached on her tiptoes for a bowl of garlic heads high on a shelf.The dungeons , she said under her breath. They're always filled with mouths to feed. At least for a short while. We call them la Taverne. Everyone goes in on their own two feet, but usually it takes a team of four to carry them out.

I looked to thank her, but Bette quickly breez............