The thief was examining another trapped doorway when I heard something—the tromp of approaching feet. The holy woman was in the middle of another sermon, about attentiveness or something, but I held up my hand for silence and she obliged. I could hear twenty sets of feet, maybe more.
I let out a low growl and reached for my sword. "Com¬ pany."
"Easy, my son," the holy woman said. "We don't even know who it is yet."
The ruined mausoleum was far enough off the beaten path to make it unlikely that anyone had just wandered in on us.
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