Chapter 12

Mak spent most of the next day examining his prison, spending but little time talking to the other males. He found the old chimney that the dead male had escaped through, but it was too narrow for his broad shoulders even if the iron grate hadn't been in the way. Remembering a few things that Nurm had told him about castles, he prowled the entire area, pushing, prodding and knocking on the walls. The other inmates of their little world, when they even bothered to notice, looked at him like he was crazy. After the beating he'd given Krog, though, none of them were about to interfere. The only one who kept a close eye on him was Krog himself, but the giant was careful to stay well away from the stranger who had beaten him so decisively.

At last, poking around behind a pile of rubble, Mak found traces of what might once have been a tiny blockedup arch. When he finally managed to pry loose the mortared stones, all he found was what seemed to be a narrow air shaft leading up through the wall. Using projecting rough edges of stone, he climbed easily up the shaft. At the top was a small room set inside the castle's outer wall. Narrow slits of windows looked out over the Chakcha's fields and gave a restricted view of the forest beyond, but he could see nothing out there that might be of help to him.

A more careful look at the interior of the room revealed only a few rotted sticks and leaves. Mak prowled about the stone floor uneasily. Something about the room just wasn't right, but for what seemed like ages he couldn't pin down what it was.

He finally stood perfectly still in the center of the room, straining his senses to the utmost, until; "Aha! That's it!"

He moved slowly across the room toward a blank wall, sniffing at the air, looking intently for the source of a faint, tantalizing odor of dampness and mold that didn't fit with the dusty dryness of the room. He could see nothing out of the ordinary until he was right up against the wall, but his nose led him to where a tiny patch of moss nestled in the crack between two stone blocks near the top of the wall. Peering more closely, he found where a faint breath of air oozed damply from the crack between these two stones.

Pushing and prying, he at last made a stone tilt slightly forward. Digging in his fingernails, he pulled and twisted until it slid slowly free and dropped to the floor with a loud thud, narrowly missing his bare toes. With it out of the way it was only the work of moments to clear an opening large enough for him to climb through. He poked his head in first, finding a tiny landing with narrow steps that led up and down. Faint glimmerings of light filtered in through occasional chinks in the illfitting stones, and Mak could see that the dust on the steps was deep and undisturbed. He climbed through the opening, then reached back and carefully replaced the loose stones so that the wall once again seemed solid and unbroken.

Climbing the dustchoked stair, Mak wondered who had planned this secret way and for what purpose. Whoever it was had builded well, though his work had been long since forgotten. Ahead was a stronger gleam of light, and in another moment he found himself climbing up through a hole in the stone floor of a round room. Narrow slits of windows opened out on all sides, and he realized that he was inside the top of one of the castle towers. He could see much of the castle below him, as well as fields and forests stretching away on all sides. To the east he glimpsed the remains of the ruined city, and he felt a brief stab of loneliness and longing for Lyssa.

Below him was the courtyard he had started from, and he growled a curse at what was going on down there. Led by the hulking Krog, most of the males were frantically gathering loose rubble. The rest were busily stacking it in front of the low arch he'd left by.

Mak snarled in anger. He was trapped here! Then he grinned at a sudden thought. If he did manage to find an escape path, there would be no easy way for the Chakcha to figure out how it'd been done this time.

Careful of his footing in the semidarkness, he crept back down the stair. He soon passed the landing at the small room, continuing on down through the gloom. The stairway twisted and turned as it descended, only vagrant traces of sunlight seeping in through infrequent cracks between blocks of stone. He stumbled and almost fell as the stair suddenly flattened out onto another landing.

Pressing his nose close to one of the lightslits, he could see that he was not far above ground level. When his eyes were again used to the gloom he carefully examined the inner wall of the landing. Yes! There was a loose block in this wall, too.

Mak levered it carefully toward himself, and this time managed to lower it gently to the floor. Beyond hung a length of ragged tapestry. His eye to a mothhole, he could see a small, highceilinged room lighted by a few high narrow windows. Rows of benches separated by an aisle faced a low, railed platform. Piled everywhere were dusty chests, boxes, and bales of goods. Old weapons hung on the walls, and Mak was particularly intrigued by a long heavy iron knife that could only have been meant to be swung twohanded like a club.