She jumped as something moved near the center of the room. A pivoting chair stood by the hearth, and it spun slowly, revealing the wizened old man who sat in it. Bald, with liver-spotted skin, he appeared to be in his seventies. He wore rich, dark clothing, and he frowned angrily at Vin.
That’s it, Vin thought. I’ve failed—there’s nothing here. Time to get out.
Just as she was spinning to dash away, however, rough hands grabbed her from behind. She cursed, struggling as she glanced down at the Inquisitor’s bloodied leg. Even with pewter, he shouldn’t have been able to walk on it. She tried to twist away, but the Inquisitor had her in a powerful grasp.
“What is this?” the old man demanded, standing.
“I’m sorry, Lord Ruler,” the Inquisitor said deferentially.
Lord Ruler! But…I saw him. He was a young man