Old Olaf shuddered to his feet, this time plucking the candle out from its holder and guiding them back towards the entrance.  The interior of the house seemed to have been deliberately renovated, with the stairs to the basement replaced with a nigh-labyrinthine series of creaking ramps.   The strange odor in the air could now be attributed to the strands of herbs and garlic bulbs hanging from the ceiling, and the things that had nearly tripped them up on the way in were revealed to be old clay pots.<br/><br/>He struggled with the locks and barricade for about a minute before letting them out again, giving them a conspiratorial nod before shutting himself back into the darkness.  It appeared the party had two clear options in front of them.  Brackett's house was yet to be searched, and any investigation into possible new arrivals would have to be taken up with the Lord Mayor or one of his secretaries.