Perotinelle was furious. She had not believed the words of their captive when they'd learned the Half-Elf had escaped Alamandria and fled into the neighboring kingdom of Fasemar. Nor had she expected the rogue to have been in her homeland long enough to have made contacts within her own royal court and to have been hired by some unnamed agent to steal the most well-guarded artifact in the lands. But that was the story from the captured knight's lips, and Perotinelle was determined now to track down the elusive thief.

Perotinelle hurried through the narrow passages of Fasemar's dungeons. She'd long ago given up the pretence of being a court minstrel, and now she wore the garb of a battle-maid: leather breastplate, breeches, and tall riding boots.

Her face was impassive, her dark eyes blazing with fury. She was going to hunt down the Half-Elf rogue and find the amulet at all costs, even if it meant venturing into the heart of Alamandria itself.

As she neared the cells, guards turned to meet her.