He followed along and waited until the boy who took care of food and water appeared, and as anxious as his companions, he grabbed the single slab of bread offered. It was a coarse and unappetizing meal; the grain was so ill-ground that men had been known to break teeth on husks or small pieces of gravel. The water ration had been cut with a small amount of wine. Some men had come down with the belly flux a day or two before Dash’s capture, and the invaders were certain a little wine kept it from spreading.
All too quickly the morning meal was over, and they were off to work. Dash joined four other men attempting to move a large wall stone that had fallen during the battle of Krondor. They were to get it over to a makeshift crane, built by an invading engineer more adept at engines of war than civil engineering. Yet Dash had seen the wooden contraption lift larger stones several times in the last two days and he was certain that it would continue to serve for a while.
Why was there so much urgency in the rebuilding of Krondor? For Duko to deny the city to Patrick made sense. For Duko to attempt to hold it for any length of time made little sense. Dash smelled a mystery, and as much as he wanted to escape, he also wanted to discover what exactly was taking place around here before doing so.
A man grunted and the stone was lifted; quickly a net was pulled under. Dash used the moment gained while the other men tied off the net to the crane to turn to Gustaf and ask, “You anxious to stick around?”
The soldier, a quiet man of middle build, showed the slight smile which was his most dramatic expression, and said, “Of course. There’s such an opportunity for advancement.”
Dash said, “Yes. Another dozen deaths and you’ll be first in line for bread and water in the morning.”
“What do you have in mind?” whispered Gustaf.
Noticing they were being watched by Talwin, Dash said, “I’ll tell you later.”
Gustaf nodded and made no comment as the crew moved over to repeat their labors with another large stone.
Four - Underground
Dash flinched.
The wind had turned cold again after the previous day’s springlike warmth and he was still sporting many bruises, which seemed to sting more when the cold hit them. Still, the exercise seemed to be keeping him from getting stiff. He hadn’t had the opportunity to talk to Gustaf again since he had mentioned the possibility of escape. Talwin had taken to staying close by, a turn of events which worried Dash. He could only guess at the man’s motives; either he was also looking for escape and judged Dash and Gustaf likely allies in such a break, or he was an informer. Dash decided he could spend another day or two trying to discover which.
The guards shouted for the midday break, and the boys with the bread and watered wine hurried through the ranks, distributing their welcome fare. Dash sat down right where he worked, on the next large rock to be returned to the wall, while Gustaf sat with his back to the wall they were repairing. Dash took a bite and said, “Either I’m getting used to this or they’ve found a better baker.”
Gustaf said, “You’re getting used to it. Remember the old saying, ‘Hunger is the best sauce.’ “
Dash studied the warrior from the Vale of Dreams. At first it had seemed his entire conversational repertoire consisted of head nods, grunts, and the occasional “yes” or “no.” But since last night he had opened up a little to Dash.
“How’d you get caught here?”
“I wasn’t,” said Gustaf, finishing his meager meal. He sipped his watery wine and said, “I was a guard on a caravan . . .” He glanced around. “It’s a long story. The short of it is we were intercepted and captured by Duko’s men and those of us who lived through the fight ended up here.”
“How long has it been?”
“Too damn long.” He frowned. “Must be a couple of months now. The days blur. It was snowing when I got here.”
Dash nodded. “Caravan?”
Gustaf shrugged. “My employer wasn’t the only merchant to think he could steal a profit by being the first one bringing goods into the city. From what I’ve seen around here, this general isn’t interested in trading much. He seems willing to let folks fend for themselves on the other side of the wall, but in here it’s a military camp.”
The order to resume work was passed down the line and Dash said, “I get that impression.”
Gustaf smiled. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”
“Back to work!” shouted a guard, and the four men nearest Dash and Gustaf began moving the rock back into place in the wall.
Jimmy motioned with a slight tilt of his head. Malar nodded that he understood and signaled for the boy to come over. The urchin was filthy, covered from head to toe in soot and grime. He smelled as if he had been swimming in a cesspool, and Jimmy thought him a likely source of information.
Malar spoke with the boy for a few minutes, then gave him a coin, telling him to run off. He returned to where Jimmy leaned against the wall in a pose of indifference and said, “Young sir, the boy was, indeed, working in the sewers. They pay him to crawl into the smaller culverts and pipes, ridding them of burned wood, mud, and the like.”
Jimmy shook his head slightly in irritation. “Damn. What are they doing down there?”