Sir Caleb ducked his head against the wind. Surprising no one's spoken to us yet.
Aye. Sir Gavin sniffed a short breath. 'Tis a mite peculiar.
They entered the eastern tower, Achan's chains rattling on the stone steps. This tower had no exits on any levels. No doors or arrow loops. It simply twisted down, an endless spiral lit by an occasional torch. A rank combination of mildew, urine, and torch smoke turned Achan's stomach. His head began to feel light. His mouth filled with saliva. I'm getting dizzy.
Almost there, Sir Gavin said.
They finally spilled out into a stone chamber that sat on the diagonal. Two narrow passages stretched out, left and right, from the stairwell's corner. A slack-faced guard with shaggy, salt-and-pepper hair reclined with his feet on a wooden table, carving lines into the table with a long knife. Behind him, a wall of stone slats each held a scroll and a key on a ring.
The guard let his feet fall to the floor and stabbed the knife into the table's surface. "What you got here?"
"New prisoner," Sir Gavin said.
The guard's gaze traveled up and down Achan. "Roiz!"
Pattering footsteps from the right corridor preceded a scrawny old man, hunched and balding. He wore a tattered brown cape. The man grinned, rotten teeth darkening his smile.
"Where they assign 'im to?" the big guard asked.
"Prodotez," Sir Gavin said.
The guard snorted. "Get that, Roiz?"
"Old as I may be, Beck, I ain't deaf." Roiz drew his hand along the stone slats, counting in a whisper. He pulled out a scroll and key, tossed it down on the table, then pointed up to a jar of ink. "Get my ink and quill for me?"
Beck glared at Roiz, as if standing wasn't part of his job. But he heaved himself off the chair and handed the ink and a thin, white feather down to Roiz.
Roiz unrolled the scroll and weighted down the top with the key ring. "Name?"
"Gidon Hadar," Sir Gavin said.
The old man wrinkled his nose. "You tryin' to be funny?"
"Certainly not." Sir Gavin's eyebrows met in one shaggy white line. "There's a bounty on this man's head. We've caught him. We want the credit and the gold and we'll be on our way."
Roiz dropped the quill and circled the table. He waved a hand. "You can let go o' him. He ain't goin' nowheres."
Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb released Achan's arms.
Roiz peered into Achan's eyes, pulled off his fur cape and mittens, and tossed them on the table. "These'll only get you hurt. Prisoners fight over clothin'. Gimme that knife, Beck."
Beck jerked the knife from the tabletop and flipped it around, handle out.
Roiz took it, waved the blade at Achan. "Turn 'round."
Achan obeyed, chains grating over the stone floor. What was Roiz going to do? The man's cold fingers slid across the back of Achan's neck, pushing his ponytail aside. Achan's fingers twitched. Every reflex wanted to move, to pull the knife from his boot. His gaze flicked to the stone-faced knights. They'd step in if he were in danger, wouldn't they?
Roiz clamped a wiry hand on Achan's shoulder. "Stay put. This won't hurt." Roiz's fingers gripped the back neck of Achan's shirt. The linen ripped in an instant.
Sir Caleb lunged forward a step. Roiz didn't notice. He dropped the knife to the table, his cold fingers folded back Achan's tunic, and Sir Caleb's posture relaxed.
"Well, I'll be the son o' Thalessa. You see this, Beck? It's just like they said."
Beck shrugged. "He's a stray. So what?"
Roiz scratched his balding head. "Prodotez, you say? We call that the Pit 'round here." He picked up the scroll and studied it. "Men who kill your pappy 'r' in the Pit, boy." He snorted. "Cetheria's got a dark sense o' justice, she has. After thirteen years, I bet these men'll like to have a word with you." He chuckled. "All right, then. Bring 'im along. This way."
Roiz lifted a torch from a ring beside the slats and started down the left corridor, brown cape flapping behind. Sir Gavin and Sir Caleb followed, leading Achan after him.
The dark and cold corridor seemed to stretch on forever. They passed narrow doors on both sides with iron grates at the bottom, staggered, so no two faced one another across the hall. Chains clanked inside each cell. Filthy fingers wiggled out the grates. Voices called out, but Achan couldn't make out words over the sound of his own chains dragging over the stone.
Roiz turned right down a short corridor and they stepped into a diamond-shaped atrium. They stood at one wide angle. To their left, in the narrow corner, two fur-clad guards looked their way. A diamond-shaped grate covered the center floor with a narrow stone path around it. Achan blinked and leaned forward. Dozens of sets of eyes stared back from below.
"Hold him right there." Roiz whistled, and the fur-clad guards approached from the end of the diamond.
The knights stopped. Achan looked up. He could see all the way to the roof, twelve levels above, and each floor in between. Torches, mounted between each narrow cell door, lit up the inner cavity of the Pillar. From the second level to the roof, iron grates covered the open ledges.
Roiz stomped on the floor grate. "Back, you vermin. Back, I say."
The fur-clad guards flanked Roiz, swords drawn. The old man crouched and inserted the key into the grate. He swung the door open until it clanged against the grate on the other side. The noise echoed to the ceiling.
Roiz waved a hand. "Bring 'im over."
Sir Gavin gripped Achan's elbow but didn't move.
Achan stared at the glinting eyes peering up from below. That's the Prodotez?
Looks to be, Sir Caleb said. Gavin, we can't let them put the prince down there.
Sir Gavin released Achan's elbow. Achan, back against the wall.
Achan inched backwards. His leg chains sounded so loud, scraping over the metal grate.
Sir Gavin crept forward, hand on his hilt. Caleb, draw on my command. You take the shorter guard and Roiz, I'll take-
"Hold," a lofty voice spoke from the corridor behind them.
Achan twisted around to find a sword pointed at his chest. His gaze traveled up the blade to Sir Kenton's pale face and curtain of long black hair. Behind Sir Kenton, Esek Nathak strode into the atrium, wrapped in a thick red wool cloak.
Pig snout!
Sir Gavin drew his sword.
"Really, Sir Gavin?" Esek shot Sir Gavin a scathing look. "Do you honestly think you stand a chance of escape?"
Esek's soldiers spilled into the center hold from every corridor, swords drawn, wearing the black capes of the New Kingsguard.
"Put it away, Sir Gavin," Esek strolled, one step at a time, posture straight, nose in the air, "and I might let the stray live."
A chill washed over Achan. How'd they get here so fast?
Verdot told them we were coming, Sir Caleb said.
Sir Gavin sheathed his sword. You can't know that, Caleb.
I can. Sir Caleb glared at Sir Gavin.
Any one of Verdot's guards could have passed on the information.
Esek locked eyes with Achan. "I see you are still trying to hide your scars with this pathetic excuse for a beard. I thank you for putting yourself into prison. Saved me a lot of trouble."
Achan clasped his hands, ducked under Sir Kenton's blade, and bashed him in the temple.
Sir Kenton staggered long enough for Achan to lunge past and tackle Esek, knocking them both to the stone floor. Achan landed on top. He gripped the chain on his shackles in both hands and pressed it over Esek's neck.