On their left, stone stairs wound upward. On the right, split logs were stacked neatly. Two old but sturdy couches faced the fireplace. Next to the couches, a long table stretched from wall to wall. The couches, the drapes over two windows, and the carpet were all a deep, luxurious red. The contrast with the dark stone was sharp, to say the least. Still, the place had an undeniable, simplistic charm. To Harruq and Qurrah, who had lived in total squalor, the place seemed a castle.

“What are all the pipes for?” Aurelia asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

“That is my wonderful brilliance put into action,” Tarlak said, beaming as if the furnace were his own son. “When I first moved in, one large pipe acted as a chimney for the smoke. Now, however, each of the pipes leads to the different levels, heating them all.”

“Where does the smoke go?” asked Harruq.

“Gotta use this,” Tarlak said, tapping his forehead. “I have a few magic spells in me. The heat goes through all the pipes except that big one in the center, which funnels cold air in and smoke out. Trust me, come winter, you’ll be ready to worship me for how toasty my home stays.”

“Your home?” asked Delysia as she came down the stairs. “I do believe it was my money you purchased this place with, dear brother.”

“Our home,” Tarlak said, duly corrected. “After the nasty business with the Citadel, I needed a new place to start. My dear sister here was kind enough to lend a hand.”

Qurrah’s eyes narrowed at mention of the Citadel, but he kept his questions to himself.

“Giving the grand tour?” Delysia asked.

“Of course. I need to show them where they’ll be living. Speaking of, do you think you can share a room with lovely Aurelia here?”