Ulrich looked down at the innkeeper's body for a long moment.
The man lay twisted at his feet, his head bent at an angle no living neck could hold. Blood darkened the floorboards beneath him. Beyond the doorway, the others groaned or lay unmoving amid broken furniture, scattered glass, and the fading glow of Airam's runes.
Ulrich stepped back.
The movement nearly cost him his balance.
A wave of weakness rose through him without warning. His vision narrowed. For one instant, the room seemed to tilt beneath his feet, the walls drawing inward through a haze of exhaustion and pain.
Airam was there before he could fall.
She pressed both hands against his back, steadying him.
Ulrich went still.
Then he looked over his shoulder at her.
"We are leaving," he said.
He turned toward the door.
"It is still night," Airam said. "You only rested for an hour."
Ulrich stopped.
His eyes fixed on her coldly.
"You saw what happened because we stayed."
