Free Emperor and Clown by Dave Duncan

from
Darad himself, for he had bathed in it.
    Left
... right ... She came to a dark opening, access to a spiral stair. Faint
muffled thumps of boots came from below. She ran on to the next corner and
stretched on tiptoe to remove a lamp from its hook. Then she came back to
explore the stairs.
    They
were narrow and uneven and tricky, the only handhold a thick rope hanging by
the newel, winding down into the unknown. She was grateful for it, though,
thinking that a broken leg now would not help the cause at all. Darad must be
far ahead of her, committing Gods-knew what sort of atrocities on her behalf.
Shadows danced for her lamp. She almost tripped on a body, and lost more time
clambering by it to continue her descent. It was probably the one Darad had
been dragging.
    She
emerged into a dark and extremely fetid cellar, and the feeble lamp showed
nothing but floor anywhere. She listened and heard nothing but a faint dripping
... only water, hopefully ... and an echoing hollowness that suggested a large
space. Then she thought to examine the floor and found a few spots of blood. Of
course they led to another opening, another stair, right by the one she had
just left. Even Darad had found that.
    The
second stair was narrower and steeper, and carved from solid rock. There was no
rope to cling to, either. Up in the real world, night had ended. Here it never
would, but her lamp was- already guttering and its supply of oil might be timed
to run out just after dawn. The air was indescribably thick and fetid. She
shivered convulsively, and she would have fled anywhere in the world had she
been able to think how to go about it. Five men dead already! Somehow the
jotunn’s command to follow seemed to be the only option open to her, and her
feet continued to obey without any further instructions from her.
    Then
a monster reared up out of the dark in front of her-pale eyes glaring in a
blood-covered ogrish face ... white canine teeth like fangs ... Great scarlet
hands reached for her, snatched her lantern away, and extinguished it. Shocked
and blinded, she overbalanced and would most certainly have fallen had the
giant not taken her bodily in those gory hands. He carried her as he backed
down to the foot of the steps.
    Breathless
and giddy, Kadolan found herself in a bare room like a cave, its rock-carved
roof low enough to be oppressive even for her, while Darad was forced to stoop.
She saw no furniture, only some ominous chains heaped in one corner and
corroded staples set into the walls. Somewhere she could hear voices.
    There
were a few doors set in the side walls, all closed and very likely hiding
nothing but empty cells. Even for a dungeon this place had a very unused feel
to it.
    The
end wall, facing the stair, held two doorways, side by side. One door was open,
showing the cell beyond it utter black and presumably empty; but the other door
was closed, and light was streaming from a barred grille in that closed door.
This was horribly reminiscent of a chapel, the bright window and the dark. But
the voices also were coming from the illuminated cell.
    The
air was nauseating. She wondered how anyone could stand it, and was glad she
could not identify all the mingled stenches. Yet she thought she registered a
slight breeze, and of course this sewer would become a deathtrap very soon if
it had no ventilation at all.
    Untroubled
by heat or stink or religious symbolism,
    Darad
was standing, listening, and literally scratching his head. Beyond the door
dice rattled, and some men laughed. Master Rap must be in there. Azak had
ordered that the prisoner was to be guarded at all times.
    Perhaps
Azak had also given orders that the prisoner was to be killed at the first sign
of a rescue attempt. Most certainly the door would be bolted on the inside. It
would not be opened to strangers, nor without this empty space being inspected
through the grille. Those were obvious precautions.
    There
seemed to be at least four or five men in there. How many