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He tried to ease the door open only to find it stuck against something that lay on the floor. He shoved it open enough to see in and stopped.
It was Lucas.
Thomas felt the wood of the doorframe crack under his hand.
Lucas lay on his back, and he had been shot in the chest, probably just as he had come through the door. He walked into a trap, Thomas thought, just as I have.
The hesitation undid him. Armed men burst through the curtained doorway, shouting.
Thomas ducked back out of the room and into the servants' passage, then halted when he saw more men coming out of another narrow hall, blocking his way. In the dim light all he could tell about them was that they were dressed in the ragged buff coats and mixed armor pieces of mercenaries or private troops. One drew a pistol and Thomas ran into a dark scullery and out the opposite door, momentarily losing them. He hadn't seen Kade at the end of the hall behind them; she must have slipped out the door.
They would expect him to stay on the ground level and look for an exit, not to head for the upper floors. He found a narrow servants' stair behind a curtained door and climbed it swiftly. He heard men pound through the passage below, but they didn't come up. He reached the second floor and made his way through a darkened salon and anteroom set, searching for a windowed room at the back of the house. Climbing down the icy stone would be a problem, but he would risk the drop.
There were more crumpled bodies on this floor, mainly city troops. Possibly the civilian refugees had been allowed to escape, though small chance that would be once night fell. Thomas was one room away from the family's private staircase and could see it through the open doorway. He heard voices and stepped back against the wall, half behind an arrangement of heavy drapes. It was shadowy and ill-lit here, where most of the candles had guttered.
The men at the stair paused as someone gave orders, then spread out to the surrou