“Actually, Droz,” said Argoth, “he is.”

Droz stood a head taller than either Argoth or Hogan. He folded his massive arms across his chest and looked down at them. The three men behind Droz shifted ever so slightly into a stance that would allow them to quickly spring into action.

“Search him,” said Arogth. “In fact, if you’re worried about it, order him to strip. Send him to the cleansing room naked.”

“Now, now,” said Droz. “We’re not in the business of sending pretty men to the witch. This isn’t a brothel, Captain.”

The other men smiled, but they did not laugh.

“Well, there’s your problem,” said Argoth. “Not all prisoners can be cracked directly. Sometimes you’ve got to build a little trust. And Zun Hogan here will do that. So perform your search. It’s late and I want some answers.”

“You’re not going to get any,” said Droz.

“Is that so?”

“We’ve been pressing her. Quiet as a fish, she is. Oh, she’ll struggle and cry out as loudly as the next one, but she won’t talk.”

Argoth truly hoped that, if nothing else, Purity had been able to keep their names hidden. “We’ll see if different methods produce different results.”

Droz motioned for one of the other men to search Hogan. “How many of us do you need?”

“It will be just me and the bowmaster this time.”

Hogan took a wide stance. Then the guard began to pat him down.

Droz grunted. “Just the two of you? Are you sure that’s safe?”

“She wears a king’s collar, doesn’t she? So she’s nothing more than a woman. And an injured one at that.”

Droz nodded. He pointed at Hogan. “He’s her lover then?”

“She had one love,” said Hogan. “And he wasn’t a man even you would want to cuckold.”

Then the guard checking Hogan stood back, looked to Droz, and nodded.

Droz considered Hogan. “So, Zu, why are you here?” He used a polite title, but not the one deserved by a bowmaster.

“I’m a friend,” said Hogan.

Droz looked at Argoth then, and what was going on in that mind Argoth couldn’t tell. Droz was a cunning man. And a man with such a mind just might suspect everything here was not as it seemed.

A beat passed, then Droz said, “Before you go down, you should know: Anything happens, anything at all, and Pony there”-he pointed to a man standing by the doorway to the back chamber-“will pull that lever. That will bring down two portcullises that five dreadmen together cannot lift. One will seal off the cleansing room. But, just in case someone makes it out of the cleansing room and to the stairs, the second will seal that back chamber. Should you be caught behind them with the witch, do not expect us to even think about saving you. You’re on your own.”

“I wouldn’t worry about her getting out,” said Argoth. “I’d be worried about her kind getting in.”

“Nothing’s getting in here,” said Droz.

“Of course not,” said Argoth, hoping he might provoke Droz into revealing more of the defenses. “Who would dare?”

“We’ve got archers in the wings of the entrance,” said Droz. “Men on the wall above. Nobody is getting in.”

“And have you set a crossfire up in here?”

“You don’t need to worry, Captain,” said Droz. “We’re tight as a drum.”

Argoth nodded. They’d planned for everything but a traitor in their midst.

Droz led them to the back of the chamber and through an arched opening. Argoth glanced up as they walked through the short passage. The heavy portcullis hung there. It would not be made solid. No, they’d want holes in it so they might shoot arrows at whoever was caught behind it.

Another lever was set into the wall of this chamber. Argoth supposed it would release only the lower portcullis. There was a stench in this rear chamber. “What is that?” asked Argoth.

“Bones,” said Droz. “The man has the noxious flatulence of the Dark One himself. I think the designers of this tower wanted to suffocate their prisoners. There’s no second window and, therefore, no cross breeze. So what do we do? The best I could come up with was to order the man to release his poisonous vapors back here. They still waft out to torment us, but at least their potency has diminished by a degree.”

Argoth wrinkled his nose. “I tell you what: forget the crossfire. Just put Bones at the door.”

“I’d put him out,” said Droz, “if the man wasn’t such a good swordsman.” He motioned at the numerous squares on the floor with handles in them. “Mind the covers.”

“Murder holes?” asked Hogan.

“Exactly.”

Droz lit and handed both Argoth and Hogan an oil lamp, then held his aloft to reveal the stairs.

“Here’s another thing,” Droz said. “They spent a fortune making this small fortress; you’d think they’d make it safe for the guards. But no, the fifth stair will try to kill you. Just mind its slope as you go by.”

They descended the stairs. Argoth stepped over the fifth one. The stairs followed the curve of the tower wall to what looked like an empty cellar that lay directly below Bones’s stink chamber. This chamber too had murder holes in the floor.

It also had an iron grate door set into the floor on one side. Droz lifted the bar on the door and took them down another staircase. This stair opened onto a flat area about ten feet deep. At the end there was yet another grated door. Two massive iron bars held it shut.

Droz unbarred the door and opened it outwards toward himself.

There was a whistling somewhere above. Argoth suspected it was a window. He glanced back up the stairs and saw nothing but darkness. There was an odor on the air. Old urine and excrement and something else he could not identify. So it wasn’t as tight as Droz wanted them to believe.

The light of their three lamps was only strong enough for Argoth to see the grated doors of the first few cells.

“The woman’s down at the end,” said Droz. “I’ll wait here.”

“Actually,” said Argoth, “I think we’ll accomplish more alone.”

“I don’t like it,” said Droz.

“If you want to rouse the warlord to discuss our methods with him, go ahead. Or maybe we can wait until he wakes. Of course, she doesn’t have many hours left in her. If she dies tonight…”

Droz grunted. “You like to push it, don’t you?”

“No, Droz. We just need some answers.”

“Fine,” said Droz, “But that means I lock you in.”

“Thank you,” said Argoth. “We’ll ring the bell when we’re ready.” Argoth dropped his voice to barely a whisper. “I expect you’ll want to watch. But, please, don’t uncover one of the murder holes directly above her cell. If she is Sleth, she’ll know you’re there. In fact, I’d recommend against opening any of them. Your stink will come through, and she’ll not say a word.”

Droz looked at him, and Argoth couldn’t tell if it was suspicion or curiosity behind those eyes. But then he nodded, locked the grated door behind himself as he left, and retreated back up the stairs.

Hogan stepped forward toward Purity, but Argoth restrained him, and motioned at the murder holes in the ceiling. They waited for the time it would have taken Droz to walk back up the stairs, but they heard no murder hole being uncovered. Nevertheless, Argoth walked about the room, holding his lamp so he could inspect every one. When he was sure nobody was listening, he motioned Hogan to Purity’s cell.

Purity lay in a blanket at the bars of her cell on a bed of straw. Underneath the blanket she was naked except for her bandages. Her head had been shaven. The silver king’s collar ringed her neck. Hogan knelt close to the bars and held his lamp up. Her wounds from the arrows were stitched in tidy rows. Even so, the wounds were red, angry, and corrupting. She would not last long in this room, but she might survive long enough to do the Grove damage.

“Purity,” said Hogan.

She spoke, but did not sit up. “I hope you brought wolfsbane roots,” she said. “If I’m to be poisoned, let it be quick. Not an insufficient dose of hemlock and honey or some two-day mushroom.”