The stone was damp.
Tambor Talmost's first sensation was the chill creeping up from the floor into his spine. His second was the distant drip of water, echoing like an unwelcome lullaby through the dark. He sat up slowly and instantly regretted it. His head was pounding, and his mouth tasting of spoiled ale and iron. "And she said she loved me," he sarcastically quipped to himself.
A groan came from the corner.
"That better not be you singing," muttered a low voice with a northern accent that could chip granite. From the sound of it, Tambor could only assume it was the barbarian woman from last night. What was her name again? Erikana? Oricana? Ah yes. Ulrikana.
Tambor blinked, trying to piece together the shadows. He could barely see bars- a cage maybe? A single light flickered just out of sight beyond them, possibly a torch but more likely a lantern. The scent of mold, piss, and ancient stone permeated the air. A dungeon.
"Well," he said, trying to smile through the pain, "either we're in the finest inn in Ereny or something's gone terribly wrong."
Movement stirred around him in the shadows. One by one, the others awoke with the mixed sounds of coughs, curses, and confusion.
Runa was the first to sit up, dragging her knees to her chest. She was slight and filthy, and her wild dark hair covered half of her dirt-smudged face. She pressed her hands against the wall and whispered something too quiet to hear. Wrapping her arms around her knees, she buried her head, sobbing quietly.
"You," growled Ulrikana, pointing at Tambor, "you said the wine was 'spirited, but safe.'" Ulrikana was standing already, arms trembling in anger, her piercing blue eyes scanning the cell. Towering and muscular, she wore furs and boiled leather dyed black. Her jet-black braid fell over one shoulder, and a jagged scar crossed the side of her throat. She said nothing for a long while, simply staring. "This place stinks of cowardice," she muttered at last.
Tambor put a hand to his heart, feigning imaginary shock at the accusation before brushing straw from his shoulder. His once-pristine blue velvet doublet was now stained with dirt, his golden curls flattened to one side of his head. Even imprisoned, his handsome face held the ghost of a roguish grin, as if he half-expected to have charmed his way out already. "I said I had a spirited constitution. There's a difference."
A clang echoed as someone tested the bars. Krashina, still wearing her tabard—though stained and wrinkled—gripped them and shook once. Her red hair was tousled, framing a tan, freckled face that wore a rare look of vulnerability. Although scuffed and dirtied, her posture remained proud. Her dark eyes flicked to Tambor, lingering there in silence. Her voice, however was cold. "We were at the Leaping Trout. Runa was being harassed by that guard captain. You and I stepped in."
"I remember," Tambor nodded. "Bought her dinner. The others…?"
"I was simply eating by myself," Grey sat with his back to the wall, brushing the dust from his midnight blue coat. His short curly brown hair was an oily mess, and his pale face betrayed a barely bearded boy not used to confinement. A sigil brooch of some unknown guild was pinned beneath his collar, partially obscured by grime. "Not only was I alone at my own table, I only had one cup of wine. I wouldn't have passed out. The food—"
"Was drugged," Nixor finished, eyes sharp beneath a tangle of dark hair. Crouched in the shadows, he might have gone unnoticed if he had not spoken. "Classic ploy. Unpredictable in a stewpot."
"Unlikely," Osarina said sharply. "Why would someone drug us? We're not—" she hesitated. "We're not threats, not even criminals!"
Nixor snorted, looking away from the blonde woman whose piercing green eyes had tempted him to their table last last night. Normally, he would have ignored her like any woman, but there was something about those eyes. He would miss them when he slipped out of this place and headed across the border to Falanar in the west.
"Outsiders," Runa said softly, huddled near the corner away from the others. Her dirty hair looked even darker in the shadows. "That's what we are. No kin, no one to ask after us."
Silence.
"No one of note," Grey trailed off. "We're expendable."
"But for what?" Krashina asked. "What could we be blamed for?"
Runa wandered to the center of the cell on her hands and knees, crouching while examining the seams of the stonework beneath her. "This place is old," she said, more to herself than the others. "Older than the town above. Smells like blood and roots."
"You've been here before?" Tambor asked.
She shook her head. "No. But I hear the dead whisper through stone when they're restless."
"Charming," Nixor retorted. "We are locked up with a mad girl." He paced a short length before stopping to check his sleeves. "Damn. They took my knives."
"Mine too," Krashina said. "And my sword. Even my belt buckle."
"Even your comb," Tambor added, giving her a sideways catty glance. "Unjust. Your hair's going to suffer."
Krashina rolled her eyes. "Maybe if we put our heads together, we can think of a way out of here."
From the shadows beyond the bars came a sudden voice, tired and hoarse: "Don't bother. The 'Mad Baron of Ereny' made sure these cells are strong enough to hold a giant."
Across the corridor, another cell sat cloaked in the gloom. A single slender figure leaned against the bars, barely visible in the meager light. A woman, her dark hair pulled back tightly pressed her face in between the bars.
"Who are you?" Krashina asked. Peering intently into the dark while trying to shade out the solitary lantern just out of sight.
"Asha," the woman replied, her voice full of defeat. "Niece of the head of the Merchant Guild in Destiny's Gate. I came in last month to your fine city of Ereny with a caravan. Your Captain Turask didn't like that I told him no."
Grey stepped forward. "It's not exactly home for us either. How long have you been down here?"
"Long enough," Asha replied. "Three others are in here with me. Two women and a man sent by my father to pay the Mad Baron's ransom. They're unconscious—been like that for days. The Baron's gaolers feed us barely enough to survive."
Krashina narrowed her eyes. "Why is he called the Mad Baron?"
Asha exhaled. "He wasn't always. Used to be fair, even wise. But something changed about six months ago. New laws. Executions over petty crimes. He even declared that poverty is a sign of disfavor from Erathmus. Says the god of civilization demands strength and prosperity. Now, he's purging the poor and imprisoning anyone who crosses him."
"That's madness," Grey whispered.
"Exactly," Asha said. "And the cells are reinforced with talismans. Old ones. Placed here by the Church. The Baron's afraid of witches and wizards in secret cabals."
"Like a prison built to hold witches," Osarina said, crossing her arms. "But why would they need that here?"
Runa stirred. "Because this place is older than the Baron. Older than the city. Maybe even older than the gods."
"Not older than Erathmus," Osarina replied instantly, frowning.
"Well, you try asking your god for help," Nixor said, arching an eyebrow that went unseen in the dark. "Maybe he takes requests from basements."
Osarina turned from him without reply and began quietly praying, hands together, gold hair like a halo in the low light.
Krashina clenched her fists. "Then we're trapped with no way out."
Nixor muttered under his breath. "And no one who'll come looking."
Silence settled again. The cold stone offered no comfort. Only questions- and the faint hope that someone had made a mistake putting all of them in one cell.
Ulrikana let out a long breath through her nose and leaned against the wall. "What if this isn't about us?"
Everyone looked at her.
"Say again?" Tambor asked.
"What if we're not the reason we're here," she said. "Maybe someone else was the target, and we were just there."
"Collateral," Grey said. "Or witnesses."
"But to what?" Krashina asked. "The tavern was full of people. Why just us?"
"There were rumors," Osarina said slowly. "Last night in the tavern several people were talking about civil unrest. I heard several rumors about mercenaries, and highway men. There was also something about someone important from the north arriving in Ereny."
"A diplomat," Krashina added nodding. "A man with guards."
"I heard the same," Tambor nodded. "Folk didn't like it. Thought he came to stir trouble."
Grey straightened. "Then perhaps something did happen. Something we don't remember."
A silence fell again, longer this time. The cell felt smaller.
Then the door above creaked, boots echoed down the stairwell, and slightly lighter torchlight flared as a figure approached. Flanked by armored guards, a gaoler with his face obscured by a hood approached the cell door, his keys jangling.
"On your feet," the gaoler barked. "His Lordship will see you now."
Tambor exchanged a look with Krashina. "I don't suppose he's here to apologize for the food?"
The gaoler grunted. "He's not fond of jokes, bard."
Tambor smiled thinly. "That's a shame. I'm rather fond of them myelf."