The water channel dropped out of sight a little way ahead, its fall of water roaring distantly in the depths. Steps loomed upward. “We need to make a choice,” Glen said. “The kitchen, or the dungeon.”

  “There’s a dungeon?”

  “There’s always a dungeon.”

  “I don’t know where they’re keeping him.”

  “Then we start with the dungeon and work our way up.” He led her away from the steps and along an adjacent tunnel.

  “It doesn’t smell so bad,” he said, “which probably means it’s unoccupied.”

  Under normal circumstances she would have told him exactly how bad it smelled, but knowing they should keep conversation to a minimum, she filed it away for later.

  “Watch your feet,” he said as the upward gradient leveled out. “If there’s any human waste it gets thrown out here and none too carefully either.”

  The scent of old feces and urine was making her eyes water, and she vowed that Torrell, who had gotten her into this mess by being careless, would go right to the very top of her retribution list. A single conorum lantern fizzled half-heartedly above a forbidding cast iron gate.

  “What if it’s locked?”

  Glen pulled on a rusty handle and the door swung wide.

  Kaddie frowned. Surely, it wouldn’t be that easy. However, her companion beckoned and in they went, swallowed by pitch darkness that thankfully didn’t last more than ten paces.

  After a sharp left turn, lantern light re-emerged, picking out a narrow stone corridor that bore a row of heavy wooden doors on its right side. Glen dashed on ahead so she did her best to keep up. At least they’d left that awful smell behind.

  At the end of the corridor, another unlocked gate, another sign the dungeons were not in use. Kaddie breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Stay close,” he urged.

  They ascended a blocky flight of stairs and she couldn’t help notice how Glen seemed so sure of himself, suggesting that he’d been here before.

  At the top of the steps lay another unlocked door that led into a stone-floored corridor. She heard distant sounds, people talking, the clatter of pans, it was the kitchen. She was beginning to get her bearings.

  To her right lay the grand hall and its magnificent staircases, but Glen was now at the corridor’s opposite wall, pushing on the wooden paneling. He opened a secret door, one that slid silently behind the wall. Beyond it was a wooden staircase leading upward.

  They entered quickly, and as soon as the door had clicked shut, “Did you work here?”

  The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  He nodded. “I was a runner for the Lassings. They tipped well, too.”

  “Didn’t stop you stealing in the tunnels.”

  “It’s not stealing.”

  “Yes it is.”

  He shrugged. “The glass merchant doesn’t pay enough.” He put his finger to his lips. “Just follow me.”

  Kaddie wondered if she could trust him, or if she was being led into a trap. What if he was looking to gain favor with the Theeds in order to get his job back?

  Her fingers sank into her pockets and brushed the linen-wrapped objects she’d stuffed inside while she was still back at the dispensary. If anyone found out about those, she’d be in big trouble and it was all Torrell’s fault. His fascination for the stupid ruins was going to get everyone killed.

  Her heart thumped hard in her chest as they reached the top of the steps and turned a corner. Glen was hesitating. She heard distant voices beyond a nearby door.

  “Quickly,” Glen hissed.

  They emerged onto a rug-floored corridor. The voices were somewhere to their left and immediately Kaddie recognized her grandfather’s irate tone. Poisoner Robles was here, somewhere.

  A door opened.

  Glen whisked a cloth from a nearby table and held it toward her as two men emerged. “Here, see? It’s torn.” He pushed the fabric into her hands.

  Kaddie pretended to examine the tablecloth as the men walked by. One of them was Torrell who had blood on his face. From beneath her hood, Kaddie stared in shock. She couldn’t help it.

  Right here, she thought. I could do it, right here.

  But the moment disintegrated and Glen gave her a hearty push. “The embroiderer, now, and hurry up.”

  Torrell and his captor turned a corner and disappeared from view.

  “We’ll have to go back.” Glen hissed. “At least we know where they’re going.”

  “Poisoner Robles is here.” She pointed in the opposite direction.

  “What?”

  “We have to tell him.”

  “No. We need to go. Now.”

  Kaddie ignored him and dashed along the corridor. She could still hear voices beyond a nearby balustrade that might very well overlook the grand hall. She threw back the hood of her cloak, intent on catching Robles’ eye and perhaps sending him some kind of signal. It was an impossible task, and thankfully Glen had better control of his wits.

  He caught her arm and spun her around before she reached the balustrade. Motioning for silence, he pulled her relentlessly, back to the servants’ door. When they were safely behind it he made no attempt at hiding his displeasure.

  “You idiot!”

  “I was just—”

  “Have you any idea how dangerous these people are?”

  “Sorry.” The word came out bitter, despite the apology being genuine.

  “Don’t do it again.” He beckoned. “Come on, we’ll have to be quick if we want to keep up, and in the meantime we need to come up with a plan.”

  Kaddie glowered in his wake as they hurried back down the stairs toward the dungeon. Oh, she had a plan. But would she ever get the chance to use it? She pulled up her hood, and the further they went and the more she thought about it, the more ridiculous her plan became.

  Outside in the tunnels, they hurried alongside the gurgling channel of water. “Did you bring anything? Any weapons?”

  “My sickle, and something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “Vials. Two poisons, two explosives.” And when Glen offered her a look of skepticism, “What?” she demanded.

  “Do you know what you’re doing?”

  “Of course.”

  He shook his head and resumed his pace. He reminded her so much of Torrell at that moment she wanted to reach out and strangle him.

  The tunnel dipped ahead, and for a few paces they ran in complete darkness. Glen slowed as they reached the next lantern. “How about giving me your knife?”

  It actually made sense. The vials would need careful handling and she couldn’t do that while wielding her sickle. Reluctantly, she handed it over. “Know how to use it?”

  He grinned. “Better than you.”

  The shadows skittered ahead, urging them into silence. They’d reached the vicinity of the circular stairwell and men were gathered at the top. Kaddie and Glen pressed their backs against the wall, and waited.