Page 44 of Vasmora

Loyce poured another drink, polishing it off as quickly as the first. “Shame that you’ve chosen to execute. He seems quite able-bodied. Fit for hard labor.”

“I’m not taking any chances on this one. He’s to be taken to trial where I’ve no doubt he’ll be executed for conspiring to kidnap the prince.”

General Loyce chuckled. “You are terrible, Captain. If any of the gods are righteous, you’ve certainly not won their favor.”

A smirk lifted the corner of the captain’s lips. “The gods favor no one. Not even the righteous.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

MAEVYTH

Iwas alone.

Completely alone in this place. In this world.

I’d overheard the guards gossiping amongst themselves, one of them mentioning a trial and execution for Kazhimyr. I hoped that, outside of these walls, he might have had a fighting chance to escape.

Inside? There was no escape.

“Morsana, if you can hear me, please do not fail me.” The concrete wall pressed into my spine as I sat with my palms clasped, elbows resting atop my bent knees.

“Now, there’s a name I’ve not heard in some time.”

The quiet voice spoke from the shadows, and I turned to see the Golvyn’s eyes glowing there. The bright intensity of them softened, the moment he stepped into the light streaming through the cracks in the door. “Goddess Death, if I recall correctly.”

I’d only spoken with the tiny creature once, and yet, somehow, I felt relief at the sight of him. Less alone than before. “Yes.”

“Why pray to death? Seems the goddess stands to gain from your … passing.”

I lowered my head and exhaled a huff. “It’s complicated.”

“Oh. Right. A Golvyn like me would never understand the intricate workings of a mortal’s mind.”

Tipping my head back, I rested my crown against the stones. “It so happens I’m more valuable alive than dead. To her, anyway.”

“Is that right …” He swiped up a pile of bug carcasses I hadn’t noticed. “No wonder they can’t kill ya, then.”

“Yes, well, believe me, if the matter were up to me, I’d …”

“You’d what?”

Brows pinched, I shook my head. “Nothing. Tell me, Golvyn. Is there any escape from this place?”

His cheeks puffed as he scratched his head, seeming to think on it. “Oh, yeah. Two weak spots, I can think of. Don’t get me wrong, the general’s got this place tight, but not even she can make it entirely inescapable.”

“What are they?”

“First is the kitchen chimney. Flue opens right up to the outside. It’d be a bit treacherous for a mortal, given one slip will either have you plummeting to your death, or burning alive.”

I frowned. “Both sound awful. And the other?”

“The other’s a bit trickier. In the heart of the palace lies a cistern and at the very bottom of that cistern’s pool is quicksand. You’d have to let it take you through the muck, to where it opens up on a drainage reservoir below. A natural rockslide. When it’s dry, you can essentially walk down the length of the cliff.” He shoved a palmful of small bugs into his mouth like he’d just popped a handful of peanuts, crunching away as bits of shell spilled out of his mouth. “But with all this rain we’ve had? Well, I’m certain it’s like a river. The current’s swift and could take you winding through the caves and dump you at the foot of the cliff.”

I tried to visualize such a thing, the physics of it beyond my comprehension. “A drainage reservoir below? How? Wouldn’t all the water escape?”

“When the water’s at a certain level, it stays above the muck. When it gets heavier, deeper, it begins to seep. Helps keep it from flooding.”

“Has anyone ever attempted to escape that way?”