We moved forward.
The tunnel opened into a wider chamber.
Once, it must have been a water distribution room. Channels cut across the floor in curved paths. Most had dried out. Others carried sluggish streams of black water. Old pillars supported the ceiling, their bases carved with imperial lions now softened by age.
At the center of the chamber stood a stone basin.
Around it was candles.
Fresh candles.
Some had burned down to stubs. Others still flickered with pale blue flames.
And beside the basin, kneeling with both hands tied behind his back, was a man in maintenance worker clothing.
His head hung low.
Blood darkened the back of his collar.
The shadow nearest me moved first, checking the corners. Another circled the basin.
No immediate enemy.
How generous.
How obviously staged.
Did they really take me that lightly?
I approached the kneeling man.
He was breathing.
Barely.
"Wake him," I said.
