The hallway just past the stairs contained two doors on the right. They opened the first one, and found a somewhat disheveled room, the decorations tending toward the macabre. It featured a private bathroom and a walk-in closet. Scattered papers covered the desktop.

A portrait on the wall was obviously of Lyle; it showed a sandy-haired older teenage boy, dressed elegantly, with a dark, intense look in his eyes and a cryptic smile.

“Wow,” Lorarona trembled. “I wonder how long he’s been this angry.”

“Not our problem,” Miles declared. “Our job is to rifle through his stuff, uncover his secrets and rob him blind.”

A minute’s worth of searching didn’t turn up anything of value. “Check this out, everyone,” Miles chortled, thumbing through the disheveled paperwork on top of the desk. “It’s Lyle’s oh-so-creative ideas for stories.”

Noninja and Lorarona crowded around, reading a few of them. “Oooh,” Noninja mocked. “A rash of disappearances is traced to a wizard’s tower, where the abductees are being turned into a new race by the use of drugs supplied by a demon. It expresses deep truths about life in our world!”

“Here’s an original one,” Lorarona japed. “A castle siege in a time of war, where the defenders find that the true enemy may be within their walls.” She flipped her hair behind her head. “Can I play the beautiful but treacherous older sister of the princess, passed over for the throne, and thirsty for vengeance?”

“No, that’s way too creative for this dung-cart fire,” Noninja kidded.

“Seriously,” Miles observed as he shook his head, “were these generated by dice rolls? I could do better than this.”

Clancy thrust a paper into their faces. “Check out this very interesting letter.”

“What…?” Lorarona complained. “Can you summarize it for us?”

“It speaks of a group of people he met that promise success in playwriting,” Clancy revealed. “He thinks their price is steep and their conditions severe, but he’s desperate to make it in this business – he doesn’t want to be a disappointment to the rest of his family.”

Noninja suddenly grabbed the letter from Clancy’s hand and pointed to the heading. “This symbol…I saw it earlier! It was on the wand his mother used to charm the audience! Some kind of compulsion magic.”

Lorarona reared back. “Oh…that explains a lot. Thinking back on Lyle’s play, I can’t remember what I liked about it.”

She grabbed a pencil and a blank piece of paper. “Let me see if I can sketch it.” A minute later, she had a halfway-serviceable facsimile. “Hope this is good enough; I don’t have any ranks in drawing.”

Clancy smiled and shook his head. “That’s a lot better than I could do.” The others concurred.

Noninja looked around. “I think that’s all we can get out of this hovel. Let’s check the next one.”

They opened the second door in the hallway, and found a room tastefully decorated in a very feminine style, featuring a private bathroom and a walk-in closet. Some papers were neatly stacked on the desktop. To the left was a sliding-glass door that led to a balcony with a railing; through it, they could see an ever-decreasing throng of party-goers, as they waited for carriages to pick them up.

A portrait on the wall was of a young lady, barely over the age of majority, dressed all in white; they recognized her as Adelphia, from the portrait in the den. She wore a form-fitting body-stocking, with a lacy halter-top, an equally-lacy short skirt, and high-heeled shoes, holding a parasol. There was a slightly haunted look in her eyes.

“I’m worried about her,” Lorarona shared. “She doesn’t look very happy to me. The overall impression I get is one of lost innocence.”

“Does anyone remember seeing her tonight?” asked Noninja. “I don’t. I’m pretty sure a beauty like that would have stood out.”

The other three concurred, shaking their heads. “I wonder how she got out of her little brother’s debut,” Clancy asked.

“Oh, I’m sure she found a willing man to spirit her away from here,” Miles leered.

“OK, enough of the hearts and flowers,” Noninja asserted. “Let’s search the place.”

“Fine by me!” Miles exulted, opening her underwear drawer. Lorarona quickly slapped his hands. “Don’t you dare!”

Miles shrugged. “What’s it to you?”

A short sword seemed to come out of nowhere; it flew into Lorarona’s hand and suddenly appeared under Miles’ groin. “Hey!” he protested.

“So help me, Miles,” she growled, “if you violate that girl’s dignity, I’ll make you a gelding!”

“Whoa, settle down,” Miles pleaded. “Don’t talk about cutting anyone’s schlong off.”

She withdrew her short sword and put it away. “Well, stop fingering her underthings!” She turned away to search an armoire.

“The devil with that,” Miles seethed. “If you butcher my manhood, you’d better run, sucker.”

“Will you two knock it off?” Clancy suddenly interjected. “Do I have to be the grownup here?”

They both glared sullenly at Clancy, then moved off to search other areas of the room.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Miles admitted to Lorarona, “it was really hot when you stood up for yourself. But why do you care about her so much?”

Lorarona sighed. “It’s the look in her eyes. I can’t get it out of my mind. I’m really worried she’s being abused terribly by the men in her life.”

Miles took another look at the portrait and managed a sad smile. “Yeah, I can see that.” He looked down. “Sorry I was such a creep.”

Lorarona smirked. “You’re forgiven.” She patted the scabbard of her short sword, hidden under her clothes. “I think you’ve been punished enough already.”

Noninja emerged from the closet, annoyed. “You’d think a girl as pretty as her would have more jewelry. But nothing!”

“I’ve finished skimming over the scripts on her desk,” Clancy announced. “And the letters in her underwear drawer.”

Miles glared at him. “You went through her undies?”

“Yes,” he declared. “But without being so sleazy.” Miles grimaced with embarrassment.

“Well?” Lorarona asked. “What did you find?”

Clancy sighed. “The drawer contained several love letters from infatuated suitors. But it’s obvious, even to me, that most of the suitors are only attracted to her physically. They don’t hide their motivations well.”

“Not a surprise,” Lorarona murmured.

“It gets worse,” Clancy revealed. “The stack on top of the desk are scripts from playwrights that want her to perform in their productions.” He made a sour face. “Each play contains frequent scenes where her character is scantily clad.”

They were silent for a moment. “I want to intervene,” Lorarona declared. “But I don’t know how.”

“You can’t help everyone,” Noninja pointed out, putting his hand on her shoulder. “But you’re a good person for wanting to.”

Lorarona returned his smile; her eyes glowed with warmth.