Crosshair stepped cautiously away from the Marauder as Quinlan jumped out to join him. Here, halfway up the mountain, they were at about the same elevation they'd been at when they landed on the top of Trayus Academy. The rocky ground was completely free of dust and ash, and a steady, cool breeze blew down the mountainside.

From this height, and in the grey half-light of early morning, the dead world of Malachor was so still that every flicker of movement immediately drew Crosshair's gaze. At the base of the mountain, small eddies of ash swirled up into the air and then settled again in a never-ending cycle that made the ground there seem almost blurred.

Four kilometers south of his position, eight stormbeasts were making their slow, laborious way towards what appeared to be a cave system. At the rate they were traveling, it was going to take them a couple of days to reach their destination.

Dismissing them with a shake of his head, Crosshair turned to study the entrance to the castle. Quinlan had called it a palace, but it didn't look much like one – at least, not from the outside. It looked more like a fortress . . . sort of. All that was visible of it was the small section that extended beyond the mountain wall. The doorways, which stood wide open, looked like a smaller, less grand version of the Trayus doorways.

Hunter came up beside him, and Crosshair turned to report. "Stormbeasts four kilometers south, headed away from us. Nothing else of interest unless you count the fact that the doors are open."

"Yeah. . . I noticed that." Hunter nodded toward the Phoenix. "Tech's checking for any surprises Zenaya might have left. Once that's done, he and I will retrieve any data we can while Wrecker wires the ship."

Crosshair glanced sideways at him. "Please tell me we're not destroying it before we go inside."

"I've got him setting them on a timer," Hunter assured him. "No need to give her too much of a warning that we're on our way in. . ."

The sergeant didn't actually say, In case she doesn't already know, but Crosshair heard it all the same.

Wrecker stumped over to them, helmet shoved back on his head and a pack of explosives hanging from one shoulder. Quinlan drifted after him, lightsaber in hand.

For a few moments, the four of them stood watching as Tech flitted around the base of the silver Phoenix.

Hunter tilted his head to one side thoughtfully with an absent hum.

"What is it?" Wrecker asked.

"You think she named her ship after the ritual?"

"No," Quinlan said. There was a pause before he added, "She probably named it after Zenaya's insignia."

"Kinda weird to think about it, huh?" Wrecker mumbled, looking down. "I mean, her knowing all along she was gonna do that and bring Zenaya back."

"She didn't know," Quinlan said. "She thought she was getting Zenaya's power, and that was all. Guess she never considered why Zenaya's insignia was what it was. That or she thought there was a different reason for Zenaya to have picked a phoenix. . ."

Crosshair shifted his weight, frowning. He didn't see how what Vythia thought mattered at all. Especially now.

Quick footsteps sounded behind them, and Tech said, "What other reason could there be, apart from the fact that the phoenix, according to myth, rises from its own ashes?"

"Maybe the fact that Zenaya's power wasn't dead even though Zenaya herself was?" Quinlan suggested with a tired gesture. "Well – whatever it was she thought, we'll never know now."

Exactly. Crosshair slung his rifle off his shoulder and held it ready. Unlike with the leviathan, at least this time a shot through the head would destroy their quarry.

"Yeah," Wrecker agreed, still unusually subdued. For some reason, he looked at the explosives he was holding, then added, "Bet Vythia wouldn't like it if she knew we were about to blow up her ship."

Crosshair shot him a skeptical look and hissed, "How does that matter?"

Wrecker replied with a shrug, then set off towards the shuttle.

Blowing up her ship – killing her – Crosshair wasn't sure how the two things were comparable. Probably they weren't, and Wrecker was just mentioning the ship because he didn't like the fact that they were hunting down Vythia. . . He'd gotten pretty chummy with her, all things considered.

Crosshair pulled out a toothpick, then remembered he had his helmet on and put it back in the case on his belt.

Hunter was on one knee, right hand flat against the ground as he studied the castle entrance. He didn't seem to find anything, because he shook his head and said, "Tech, did you find any traps?"

"None." Tech, who seemed to have been waiting for Hunter, trotted back towards the Phoenix without further comment. Hunter got to his feet and followed, drawing his knife from its sheath.

Crosshair stepped back and let his gaze drift from the open doors of the castle, around the mountainside, and up towards the peak. There was something there, at the top, that didn't look like part of the mountain, but he couldn't tell what it was – a glint of sunlight on metal, maybe. He stepped back again in an attempt to see it better, but the angle was too sharp.

Crosshair frowned and glanced questioningly at the Jedi, who stood gazing out over the wasteland beneath them. When Quinlan failed to move, Crosshair jostled him with an elbow and pointed. "There's something on the peak. Any chance you can tell what it is?"

"If you can't, then there's no way I –" Quinlan paused, squinting. "Hm. It looks like something . . . metallic?"

They both studied it for a few seconds longer, to no avail. Even Crosshair couldn't make out further details. It was just that single glint. He couldn't pinpoint why, but it was making him uneasy.

The sniper looked away to check his surroundings again; by the time he turned back, the sunlight was fading behind a scattering of bleak clouds. The sharp glint slowly disappeared, until he could make out a small, angled section of what appeared to be glass.

He and Quinlan glanced at each other.

"Is that a window?" the Jedi asked.

"Looks like it." Crosshair returned his gaze to the glass, trying to ignore the cold feeling in the pit of his stomach as he hit his comm. "Hunter. We might be under observation. I think there's a window above us. The Phoenix isn't in view of it, but the Marauder is."

". . . Blast it," Hunter said. Crosshair could hear Tech murmuring to himself in the background as he continued to work. "Better join us here."

"Yeah. On our way."


When Quinlan entered the Phoenix, it was almost exactly as it had been the night he, Tech, and Crosshair sneaked aboard. Almost, but not quite. The chest that held the artifacts stood open.

He crossed the floor and looked down at it. The ceremonial blade was gone, of course. No surprise there. But the five red kyber crystals were also gone, and so was the shard of Adas' axe. The only thing that remained in the chest was the scepter, the first artifact they'd found on Malachor. After the things he'd seen in Trayus, the scepter seemed almost laughably . . . weak.

Absently, Quinlan reached out with one hand, sensing the edge of the Force-bubble that surrounded the chest.

Hunter came up beside him, helmet under one arm. "Tech's almost done the data retrieval. Is there anything else we're taking?"

"We should take the papers with us."

"The papers?"

"Vythia's research." Quinlan located the metal box and opened it to check that the stack of parchments was still there. He was about to close the box when he remembered the sketch he'd seen earlier. He rifled through until he found it, then held it wordlessly out to Hunter, who took it with a confused expression.

"Can you see what's casting the shadow?" Quinlan asked.

Hunter studied it carefully. "A tall person, or a statue. That's all I can see."

"Yeah," Quinlan grumbled. "Same here."

"Is this the room you saw in that vision you had last night?"

"Yeah. If whatever cast the shadow moved – well, I was just remembering how that four-armed statue followed us in Trayus."

Hunter grimaced and handed the paper back. "Maybe it's just as well we don't know what it is."

Quinlan huffed, shoving the picture into the box and closed it. "Of course, if it is a statue, at least we'll know how to get rid of it."

Hunter nodded unenthusiastically, then looked around. "We taking anything besides the papers?"

"Let's take the whole chest," Quinlan suggested, setting the boxes of papers in with the scepter.

"What for?"

"It blocks the Force, and I don't want to deal with destroying artifacts right now." He slammed the lid. "We'll let the Jedi Order deal with sorting all this out. They might find something useful."

"Good idea." Hunter picked up the padlock from where it lay on the floor and clicked it into place. "Wonder why Zenaya took the shard with her."

"Hm?"

"The shard from the axe. Vythia said she needed it, remember?"

"You mean when you killed the stormbeast?" Quinlan frowned. "Yeah . . ."

"But she didn't use it in the ritual." Hunter glanced over at Wrecker as he entered the hold. "Maybe it was just Zenaya who needed it."

"Or wanted it," Quinlan answered. The shard of the first Sith'ari's axe would have been valuable to Zenaya, if only for its symbolic significance. Well, whatever she wanted it for, she had it now. That, and the crystals.

"Finished with the explosives!" Wrecker reported. "I'm all set to start the countdown as soon as we head inside."

"Any failsafes?" Hunter asked.

"Yup. Tech's got it rigged to blow if the engine is started, no matter how long it's been."

"Good." Hunter pointed to the chest. "We're taking that back with us. Soon as you've got it on board, lock down the Marauder."

"I got it." Wrecker hoisted the heavy chest under one arm and clomped down the boarding ramp.

Quinlan watched him leave. "So – the Marauder's set to blow up within the next forty-eight hours, if anyone besides us starts it . . . But what about after that timeframe? As in, say we all die and Zenaya's smart enough to wait. Can she still escape?"

"No." Hunter let out a half-amused huff. "Because if no one starts it in the next couple of days it's going to self-destruct anyway. Tech took care of that."

"Uh – so what happens if we kill Zenaya and survive, but get knocked unconscious for three days?"

Hunter visibly hesitated, which did not reassure Quinlan at all, then said, "We'll have to wait for Tech's message to get through to the Republic so they can send someone."

"Yeeaaah." Quinlan rubbed his sweaty palms on the sides of his tunic. "Guess that works. In the meantime, we'd just – set up camp here, I guess. We've got a few days' worth of rations, right? After that, we can always live on stormbeast steaks."

On the other side of the hold, Crosshair snorted.

Hunter looked blankly at Quinlan, then rolled his eyes and put his helmet on. "Let's worry about that after we worry about surviving Zenaya."

Quinlan shrugged and wandered over to the cockpit, where Tech knelt beside the consol, datapad plugged in below it. "Find anything?"

"Yes." Tech did not look up. "Vythia seems to have communicated chiefly from this ship on Nar Shaddaa. The access codes for the Prince's warehouse are here, as well as records of various communications. I am transferring everything so that I can analyze it later."

He twisted to face Quinlan. "As I suspected, I was able to access the navicomputer records through the general mainframe. Assuming that they were completely erased before Vythia purchased it, she has owned the Phoenix for nearly a standard year."

Quinlan frowned and glanced at the pilot's seat. "Did she name it then?"

Tech tapped at the screen for a moment. "Not quite. She registered it under the name Phoenix the day after she purchased it."

So, Vythia had been planning her trip to Malachor for some time. . . If this was even her first trip here. Quinlan hesitated, eyeing the steering yoke for several moments. He wanted to know what Zenaya wanted, why she had all but let them go. It was unlikely that she had imprinted any emotions on Vythia's ship, but if she had –

Tech's datapad beeped. "There. Transfer complete," he announced. "I believe that is everything we need from the Phoenix, information-wise."

"Just about," Quinlan answered, reaching a decision. He slipped his thumbs out of the holes of his fingerless gloves, shoved them up to his wrists, and wrapped both hands around the steering yoke. Instantly, he slipped into a vision, but it was distant, almost as though it were layered over what was really happening. He could still see Tech to his right, even though the scenery in front of the viewport darkened and started to move by in a swift blur.

It was nighttime, and for a moment he was piloting the Nautolan woman's ship towards the palace of Aantonaii. There was a peculiar sensation of mixed knowledge and emotions; then the vision deepened, flickering and splitting between two perspectives. One was strong and in control; the other was only a faint, pain-tinged echo that was barely recognizable.

The memories and impressions did not feel like his own, not this time, and it was far easier to sort between them. He felt them, but was not living them.

It had been thousands of years since she had taken up residence in the Palace of Aantonaii. She would be glad to return.

The first and last time she'd visited the Aantonaii had been a few months ago –

The Phoenix slowed to a hover, and Zenaya took a moment to survey the remains of her home. The gardens had been utterly destroyed. . .

It looked no different than the last time she had seen it –

Her stay here would be brief. After that . . .

The Phoenix landed. At the same instant, just as the Nautolan woman's fingers started to withdraw from the steering yoke, the pale echo of a perspective surged to the forefront, swamping every other thought in a desperate, voiceless plea for help that coincided with a faint image of Quinlan.

The thought was quenched by a brutal surge of fiery pain that cut off everything, even the sharp, audible cry that Vythia let out before Zenaya silenced her.

Quinlan stepped back from the consol, blinking away the remnants of thoughts that were not his own. He replaced his gloves slowly, only half-noticing Tech's questioning expression. That cry for help had been meant for him. . . But surely Vythia couldn't have known he would be on her ship. Unless it was a trap, and Zenaya was manipulating Vythia, or . . .

Or Vythia was aware enough, somehow, to recognize that Zenaya knew that Quinlan and the others would be following her.

Still moving slowly, he went back into the hold with Tech on his heels.

"All set?" Hunter asked, glancing between them.

"Yes," Tech said, securing his datapad. He slanted a look at Quinlan. "At least, I believe so."

"Yeah," said Quinlan, still trying to parse out exactly what he'd just sensed. "Let's get started. . . And guys? Listen, keep your eyes open."

Hunter drew and sheathed his knife a couple of times. "For what, particularly?"

"I don't know yet." Quinlan touched both lightsabers – he'd taken one of the padawans' also, as a backup – then reached into his tunic to feel for the yellow crystal. It had no strength as a shield, but it was what the only thing that had truly beaten Zenaya back, so far. He might as well bring it as not.

"You don't know?" Crosshair asked in a bland voice.

"No." Quinlan narrowed his eyes, still confused. "But Vythia's still in there. And I think she left me a message."

The other four glanced at each other, but nobody commented. Quinlan followed them as they exited the Phoenix; they waited for Wrecker to perform his last check on the countdown, then closed the boarding ramp behind them.

"Marauder's secured?" Hunter checked.

"Yup." Wrecker started the countdown on the explosives. "Okay – we've got half an hour before this thing blows."

"Wrecker." Tech fidgeted and looked at the Havoc Marauder. "You are certain that our own ship is safely out of the blast radius, correct?"

"Course it is!" Wrecker snorted and clapped him on the back, knocking him forward two paces. "I know better'n that, Tech! Who's the demolition expert around here, anyway?"

"You are," Tech replied stiffly. "But that does not always reassure me."

Hunter turned to Quinlan as the other two continued to bicker. "Is there anything else you learned just now?"

"Only the name of this place," Quinlan said with a shrug. Not like it was all that useful, but – "Zenaya called it the Palace of Aantonaii."


So far, the places they'd visited on Malachor had been dusty, ancient, and overwhelming in their gloomy structures: an underground tomb, an old academy, a ghost town with a strange temple – and Trayus.

Hunter had expected more of the same in Aantonaii, but as soon as they stepped through the doorways he knew that it was different. The wide, echoing hallway was dusty and dry, but it was not made out of the same dull stone that had comprised all of Trayus. Tech's scans had shown that this palace was cut right out of the mountain, but no sign of the mountain itself was visible.

Beneath the dust and ash that coated everything, the walls were made of polished stone, which was run through with streaks and threads of uneven black. Lights, similar to those in Trayus, hung along the walls at even intervals.

Hunter turned off his flashlight and slid the nearest lantern's crystal inward. A white light flared, and then another further down, then another, all down the hallway.

He stepped back uncertainly. "That's – different."

Quinlan, who stood across the hall, ignited the lantern opposite the one Hunter had just lit. The white lights burned into life one after the other, illuminating the hall better than the weak sunlight lit the mountainside.

"Oh, good," Crosshair muttered, cautiously pleased.

Hunter had to agree. At least here, it looked like they wouldn't have to deal with squinting through uneven shadows cast by the flickering green and dull white of the Trayus lights. "Looks like not all the Sith preferred Trayus' general appearance," he said.

The Jedi, who was busy watching Tech run scans, shook his head. "Most of 'em would have lived in their own places – castles or towns or whatever. Trayus was just for teaching and learning. Guess everything about it was designed to help them focus on the dark."

Tech's datapad let out a faint beep, and Tech finally took his eyes away from the screen. "No life signs in range. I have the general layout of the structure available. There seem to be only two entrances: this on, and another leading out the opposite side from the lowest level."

He tilted the screen towards them. "There are only five levels of the main building, of which we are on the highest – if we discount the tower."

"The tower?" Hunter stepped closer to look over the schematics. Sure enough, there was a long, vertical tunnel extending perhaps fifty meters upward to the surface of the mountain. "Crosshair, is this where you saw the window?"

"It's in the right position."

"Yeah," Quinlan agreed. "Tech, you said you can't pick up life signs, but how much of a range do we have, accuracy-wise?"

Tech pulled his visor down over his goggles. "The walls are over a meter in depth, and I doubt the bioscanner was able to penetrate to the lowest floor or even to the tower, which appears to have only one floor at the very top. I will attempt a search for heat signatures instead."

Hunter checked the end of the hallway, then crouched, putting one hand against the wall and the other against the floor as he shut his eyes. The chances that he'd feel anything unusual were ridiculously low, but it couldn't hurt to try. As expected, though, he didn't notice anything except his usual, constant awareness of Tech's running devices, and the fact that everyone was standing still.

"So how are we gonna do this?" Wrecker asked, shifting his weight. "Pretty sure we won't be able to just chase her down even if Tech does locate her."

Crosshair swiped the datapad from Tech, gaze flitting over the schematics. "We could find a good location for an ambush."

"If that's even a possibility." Hunter turned to the Jedi, who had his head tilted a little to one side. "Quinlan. She knows we're here, doesn't she?'

"I can't find her – I know she's here, somewhere, but she's shielding herself. . ." He paused. "Which, yeah. Means she knows we're here."

Hunter turned to his squad mates. "Nobody splits up. Wrecker, I'm thinking the layout of this place looks right for Plan Eighteen."

"Just what I was thinking," Wrecker answered, a grin audible in his voice. Already, he was clipping several trip mines to his belt.

At Quinlan's look, Hunter said, "We search each room. As we leave it, we set a laser trap in each doorway."

"I'd be surprised if she fell for that," Quinlan said. "Can't hurt, though."

"They won't kill her, probably," Wrecker agreed. "She'll dodge 'em or whatever. But if she sets one off at all, it'll tell us where she is. She can't follow us without making at least some noise."

Quinlan nodded his understanding, and Hunter said, "All right, Bad Batch. Let's get to work."

They started towards the nearest doorway, and Hunter closed his eyes briefly, double-checking that he'd memorized the schematics of this floor. Any advantage that they could possibly get had to be used. The Bad Batch had chased down droids, a desperate war criminal, and a group of assassins, but they'd never hunted such a dangerous target before.

Hunter had been named for his ability to locate and track down whatever he was sent out to capture or kill. . . but this time, he couldn't help but feel that he and his team were the ones being hunted by their quarry.

As they reached the partially-open door, he held up a hand to stop the others. Light shone from inside, and the dust on the door's handle was clearly smudged. Zenaya had entered this room; and, judging by the smudges on the opposite side of the handle, just visible through the crack, she had also left it.

Placing false trails was an old tactic, though. . .

"You're clear," Quinlan whispered, just as Tech said, "I have located her heat signature. She is in the lowest level."

Hunter pushed open the door and stepped in, followed by the others. "Then that's probably where we don't want to –" He cut off in surprise.

" . . . Whoa," Wrecker said in a hushed voice.

Hunter nodded slowly, staring at the glimmering crystalline structure that stood in the center of the small room. It reminded him of the one in Trayus – the one made out of fluted black and white marble – but this one was much smaller.

It looked as though the structure, whatever it was supposed to be, had been made or maybe grown out of crystal. The wide base was solid and cylindrical, but only for a few centimeters before it split off into dozens of thin, delicate whirls and streaks that twisted nearly to the ceiling, all looping and curling around each other until, near the very top, they drew to needlelike points. It was smooth as glass, and had no particular color. Hunter was almost certain the center of it was black, but the outer layer seemed to be clear, and every time he moved, the colors shifted. The effect was mesmerizing.

"What is it?" Tech asked, approaching it.

Wrecker's hand on his shoulder brought him up sharp. "Uhh – maybe you shouldn't go near that."

"Yeah . . ." Quinlan said apprehensively.

Hunter jerked his own gaze away and looked over the rest of the room, noticing for the first time that the floor for a meter around the structure was sunken. Two small pipes protruded from one wall of the indentation. At some point, there had been a pool here. The rest of the room was empty enough, though. It didn't even have a second door.

He glanced questioningly at the Jedi, who said, "This is probably where she meditated. No point in hanging around."

Hunter nodded and turned to leave, but hesitated when he caught sight of Crosshair. The sniper had taken his helmet off, letting it hang from his fingers as he stared in fascination at the twining coils of crystal. The shifting colors reflected oddly in his eyes, making them look sharper and brighter than normal. Crosshair's enhanced vision was probably picking up even more colors and thin sparks of crystal than Hunter himself could see.

"Hey, Cross," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Crosshair blinked twice, gave his head a surprised shake, then scowled in irritation when he realized what he'd been doing.

Muttering something under his breath, he jammed the helmet on his head and stalked from the room, leaving the others to follow.

As Wrecker set a laser trap inside the meditation chamber's doorway frame, Tech said, "If we know that Zenaya is in the lowest level, why are we pausing to check the other rooms?"

"Because we don't want her sneaking up behind us," said Hunter. "That's why we're doing the traps."

"Yes," Tech answered, tilting his head. "That is obvious. However, it is not necessary for us to enter the rooms in order to trap them, or even necessary to trap all of them. We could just wire the stairway up from the lowest level, and the one leading to the tower."

"That's . . . true," Quinlan said. "But for all we know, she's got tunnels and passageways leading from one level to the other that your sensors can't pick up on."

"Admittedly." Tech checked the datapad again. "But at least we can keep an eye on her position via thermal readings. She has not yet left the room she is in."

Hunter had the sudden and very strong instinct that they could not, no matter what, enter that lowest level. "We need to draw her out," he said. "If she's staying there, it's got to be for a reason. Quinlan – can you manage that?"

"What, getting her to come up here?" Quinlan asked, reaching for the next door. "I could tell her we're waiting for her. But there's no way she doesn't already know. She's waiting."

"For what?" Wrecker muttered. "For us to come to her? I don't think we're gonna do that – right?"

"No," Quinlan said uneasily. "No. She's waiting there for a reason."


After Crosshair pointed out that none of the rooms on the first level were large enough to use for an ambush, the team had taken Tech's suggestion and wired the doorways and halls without bothering to enter the remaining four rooms. Hunter had decided against leaving any doorway clear of mines. If they killed Zenaya, they could take their time with disarming them. If not, it was a matter of remembering to duck beneath the invisible beams.

Either way, having any sort of hindrance between themselves and the Sith woman, no matter how ineffective they were likely to be, was better than nothing.

Now, almost half an hour after they entered the palace, they were standing together on the landing, looking down at the second level as they waited. As Tech counted down the remaining seconds, Hunter knelt, keeping one hand on the floor. He knew he didn't need to, as the explosion would be clearly audible, but he wanted to make doubly sure that the Phoenix was actually destroyed.

"Three, two, one –"

Right on cue, the explosives detonated with a muted roar. Hunter shut his eyes, feeling first the tremors of the explosion – and then the smaller ones as pieces of the wreckage crashed to the ground one after the other.

Hunter looked up at Wrecker and grinned mirthlessly. "I'd say Zenaya's still got a chance of escaping Malachor. . . if she can fly something that's in a dozen large pieces."

"Ha!" Wrecker jubilantly punched Crosshair in the arm, then threw an arm around his shoulders. "That means she's stuck here, if nothing else!"

Crosshair twisted free and stepped away, straightening both arms down at his sides. "Stuck here with us," he hissed, a sort of dark glee in his voice.

Quinlan eyed them both with concern.

"Interesting." Tech pushed his visor back and glanced at Hunter. "Up until the explosives went off, I was almost certain that they would not."

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Hunter got to his feet. "I was worried about the same thing. Probably because so many other things haven't gone according to plan lately."

"Well, this one did!" Wrecker grabbed several more trip mines from his pack. "Hey, I've already used nine of these. Good thing they're so small."

Quinlan glanced into Wrecker's pack. "You've got, what, another fifty in there?"

"Something like that." Wrecker closed his pack and slung it on his shoulders. "And Cross has some more. Don't worry, I brought plenty."

The Jedi shook his head. He was probably more concerned about the fact that Wrecker was carrying that many mines than whether or not they had enough to trap all the doors.

At the base of the stairs, while Wrecker set another mine, Crosshair took the datapad and looked over the second level schematics. "There's a room here that might work," he said, pointing. "Bigger than the last three combined . . . probably has a lot of structural supports."

"Structural supports?" Quinlan asked, tilting his head. "As in, pillars and beams and such?"

Crosshair handed the datapad back and picked up his rifle. "As in, sniping positions and plenty of cover."

"And plenty of places to set traps," Tech added, tapping one of several EMP emitters that he'd clipped to his belt. "These will weaken even a Nautolan. I will only need her within range for a second. Perhaps a second and a half."

"Keep your voices down," Hunter warned, glancing down both of the hallways extending at right angles from the base of the stairway. He didn't see a thing, and Zenaya was still in the lowest level, but . . . "We don't know how far sound carries in this place, or if she's got some other way of hearing us."