It was rusted. He tried to force it but it wouldn’t give. He looked over at Varena.

“It’s stuck,” he whispered. “Use a spell.”

“Might draw attention. Oil it.”

He unslung a small tin tied around his neck, uncorked it with his teeth, and reached up, first oiling the hinges to the grate and then upending the rest into the lock. Oil dripped back down on his face, stinging his eyes.

He worked the pick again and still it wouldn’t budge. Sweat started to bead down his face in spite of the cold damp of the sewer.

“What’s going on?” Norreen whispered.

“I can’t get any leverage. It won’t budge.”

“Damn, keep working!”

“Hoist me up higher.”

Norreen, grunting, pushed him up higher against the grate, and he grabbed it with one hand, sticking the other one through the grate to work the lock.

Hoarse laughter echoed in the distance, the only answer a moaning cry nearby.

“Shut up, damn you, or we’ll cut the other hand off!” a voice echoed in the distance.

He heard footsteps drawing closer and again he froze, pulling his hand back down. Someone was going from cell to cell, opening peepholes into each cell to check on prisoners. The minutes passed, the guard drawing closer, stepping over the grate. He opened another peephole.

“Damn. Hey, Grimash, this bastard in here’s hung himself.”

“So what do you want me to do about it?” a voice echoed in the distance.

“Open the door so we can dump him.”

Hammen looked over at Norreen.

“Leave it till morning.”

“Come on, let’s get it done.”

“Oh, all right.”

Hammen looked down wide-eyed at Norreen. She quietly lowered him and slipped back, away from the opening.

Footsteps echoed overhead and there was the sound of a door unbolting.

“Damn, he stinks. When did you last check him?”

“I don’t know. I think they brought him in yesterday or the day before?”

“Damn you! Carry him then. What a stink.”

The two guards cursed softly and there was the sound of something being dragged. A shadow appeared overhead and there was the sound of a key snicking in a lock. The lock let go with a metallic pop and the grate was lifted up.

“Something wrong here.”

“What do you mean?”

“The key. Look, it’s covered in oil.”

“So somebody oiled it.”

“Who? I sure didn’t.”

“Just shut up and dump the stiff. He’s enough to make a maggot gag.”

The body plunged straight down, slapping into the muck, spraying the three in the sewer. It was stiff as a board, however, and rather than tilt over with the current of the sewer to be swept away, it lodged in place as if standing, its head banging up against the circle of stones directly beneath the grate. Hammen fought to suppress a gag. The corpse’s face was invisible in the shadows except for a thin ray of light that revealed his blackened tongue protruding out of a face that was swollen like a balloon, the rope, made out of strips of rag, cutting into its gray-green neck.

The guards overhead looked down and one of them started to laugh.

“He likes it here. He doesn’t want to leave.”

“Well, get down there and push him.”

“Nah, let’s leave him. Actually it’s kind of funny, him standing down there like that.”

“Damn it, push him. It’ll stink the place up.”

“As if the customers are going to complain.”

“Just move him.”

A hand reached down through the grate and, grabbing hold of the corpse by the back of the head, pulled him back. The current started to swing the dead man’s legs outward, and at that moment Hammen screamed.

Wide-eyed, Hammen found himself staring into the face of Petros, one of his brotherhood, a friend who only three days ago had shared the fleas and lice of their hovel.

Hammen’s scream was answered by the two guards overhead, both of them jumping back in terror.

“Go! Go!”

Varena pushed past Hammen, knocking him over into the muck so that he started to get swept away by the current, his dead friend bobbing beside him.

Looking up, she raised her hand and a blast of fire slammed upward, catching one of the guards and bowling him over. The other ran off in terror. Varena grabbed hold of the sides of the access hole and pulled herself up, Norreen starting to scramble up after her.

“I’m drowning!”

Norreen looked back at Hammen, hesitated, and then, cursing, waded after him, grabbing hold of him by his hair and pulling him back toward the opening. She pushed him, sputtering and choking, up through the grate.

Hammen flopped up onto the floor of the dungeon and rolled away from the guard, who was writhing back and forth, screaming hysterically, as he tried to beat out the flames that were engulfing him.

Norreen came out of the hole and her sword slashed down, cutting his cries short.

“Which one is his?” Norreen cried.

From down the corridor Varena came running back.

“He got away. We don’t have much time!”

“Which one is his?”

She looked around, confused. Their plan of sneaking in and silently checking cells was now gone.

“He must be at this end!” She started to walk down the corridor, raising her hand as she passed each door, blasting locks off. Norreen followed, tearing the doors open.

Hammen lay on the floor watching them, still shaken by the memory of what was left of his friend.

“Hammen, watch the corridor!”

Cursing, he came to his feet and started down the hallway. All around him was bedlam, prisoners inside cells shrieking for release.

He turned back to the scorched remains of the dead guard and found the man’s keys. As he worked his way up the corridor he started to unlock doors. Some of the victims within were beyond hope, chained to tables of pain or to walls, some of them looking up and weakly calling for rescue, food, water, or simply for an end to their torment. Tears clouded his eyes and he continued on. Behind several of the doors the prisoners were not chained and they staggered out.

“Get in the sewer and follow the current!” Hammen shouted, pushing them back. The men and women crawled away.

One of them hobbled up to Hammen.

“Hammen,” the voice was hoarse, croaking.

The man was familiar, his old handless friend from the hovel.

“Get out of here and tell the others, tell everyone,” Hammen whispered. “Tell them it was One-eye who set you free. Go hide with Lothor’s brotherhood, and I’ll meet you there later.”

The man grinned through a bloody face and scurried away to the sewer hole.

From down at the far end of the corridor he suddenly heard footsteps running, drawing closer.

“They’re coming!”

“We’ve got him!”

Hammen looked over his shoulder. Norreen was coming out of a cell, Garth in her arms, Varena pushing past her and running toward him.

A crossbow bolt shot past, skidding off a wall, showering sparks. At the far end of the cellblock torches appeared.

“Move it!”

Hammen, needing no urging, ran back toward her and stopped at the sewer hole.

Varena raised her hand, and within seconds a great horde of rats appeared, shrieking and crying, running down the length of the corridor. Directly behind them a wall of fire rose up and moved after them, driving them toward the end of the corridor.

Norreen came up to the hole, carrying Garth.

“Hammen first!”

He looked down into the darkness, hesitating, and a foot caught him from behind. With a curse he fell in, going under and then coming back up, struggling to get his footing on the slimy bottom.

“Catch him!”

Norreen lowered Garth feetfirst and then she let go. He fell into the current and Hammen struggled to pull his head out of the water. Seconds later Norreen jumped in.

“Varena, let’s go!”

The Orange fighter jumped down just behind her and overhead the brilliant glare of the fire winked out. But still there was the sound of the rats, squealing with delight as they fought for their meal, the guards shrieking and howling.