The air was thick an the light was dim. The only sound in this part of the dungeon was coming from a tiny cell and its inhabitants. The guard cracked the stranger over the head again.
"How did ya git in thar?" He bellowed this time slugging him in the stomach.
"I told ye last thing I remembers I was leavin da bar."
The guard chuckled and leveled a right hook to his jaw. "An I told ya that tharse NO WAY a drunk could make it into da Lokmars' cellar!" The guard stared at the stranger as he rubbed his knuckles. "Talk an it'll be easier on ya."
The stranger was silent.
The guard began to pace back an forth. "You were found in da cellar. Tat's da bottom level. No access to da streets. We searched da entire house an nothin' was a miss. Not even a peace a' silver was gone." The guard sighed. "Look mate if ye don't talk yer just gunna rot in dis here cell."
The stranger looked up. He turned his head to regard the cell. "Could be worse."
The guard flushed. "Fine den! Rot!" The gate slammed shut as he stomped out.
The stranger lay down on the straw mattress.He could only hope that the mage had filled in the tunnel by now. The agreement was to fill it in if he hadn't returned in a half hour. Shame he hadn't been able to loot the estate. The Lokmars were one of the wealthiest clans in Karak Maulkez. The stranger scratched his head and and grimaced as his slid the pin that was under his scalp out. But there was no reason not to nik something on his way out. He smiled. The name Korick Ironbolt would be cursed for generation to came.
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