Abandoning caution, she raced up the stairs to a dark corridor. She glanced all about for signs of the Straken Lord, but saw nothing. Slipping down the corridor as fast as she could manage while still keeping silent, she reached a rack on which hung a series of black cloaks. She snatched one off and flung it about her, then hurried on. She turned several corners as the corridor wound its way back into the tower, listening all the while for sounds of an alarm. But no alarm was given.

Finally, she arrived at a door that opened onto a walkway overlooking the fortress. She could see all of the keep’s walls now, five concentric rings that enclosed increasingly larger courtyards and broader buildings the farther out she looked. The Pashanon was a hazy gray emptiness that spread away below the bluff, but the fortress itself teemed with life. She saw how completely trapped she was, how far she must go to reach safety, and she despaired. Without her magic to aid her and her hands free of the constricting chains, she could not hope to get away. Even a disguise would not be enough with so many demons and checkpoints to pass through.

She had to find a way to even the odds.

She glanced around furiously and found what she was looking for. Iron spikes protruded from slots in the battlements, a defense against intruders seeking to climb in. She walked to a cluster set far enough back that they weren’t immediately visible to those passing below. Hooking the metal ring that bound the chain to the clasp on her right wrist about the closest spike, she began to twist it against its fastening. The clasp cut into her wrist until she was bleeding, but she continued to apply pressure, gritting her teeth against the pain.

At last, the ring snapped apart, and the chain and clasp fell away.

It took her even less time to free the left wrist, but cost her about the same amount of blood. Hugging her damaged wrists to her chest, letting the blood seep into her clothing, she searched for a way down. Finding nothing, she began to follow the walkway around the tower. There was still no alarm, something she found odd. Perhaps Hobstull hadn’t gone to her cell after all. Perhaps the Catcher had gone into the cells for something else. She couldn’t know.

She found a watchtower with a trapdoor and ladder leading down to the next floor. She climbed down quickly, found another trapdoor and another ladder, and climbed down that one, as well. From the courtyard below, she heard the chatter of the Goblins and, from somewhere beyond, the growls and snarls of the demonwolves. Too many enemies lay between her and safety. She hadn’t a hope of getting past them all.