Water sloshed beneath me, a foul smell rising, and I buried my face in my sleeve. Could things get any worse? Then an idea occurred to me, and I looked down.

An elaborate network of sewers ran beneath Trollus; every structure – even those in the Dregs – connected to the system. The trolls had little tolerance for filth, and, as such, the crown had a small army of half-bloods that kept the system clean and in working order, living their lives in the tunnels that their betters barely acknowledged existed. And if they could move around down there, so could I.

Easing open the latch holding the grate shut, I lifted the metal bars, silently thanking whoever had recently oiled the hinges. Then I lay on my stomach and peered inside.

The sewer was perhaps six feet in diameter, a stream of water and waste running down the center of it. But while I’d expected total blackness, the space was dimly lit by lamps fastened to the ceiling. Holding onto the edge of the hole, I lowered myself in, dropping the last bit to land with my feet on either side of the malodorous stream. The library latrine was located at the rear of the building, and sure enough, I only had to go a few dozen paces before I encountered a shaft leading upwards.

As I suspected, it was large enough, albeit barely, for me to fit, and I could see the trap door covering the top. Unfortunately, the shaft was coated with filth.

Until this moment, I’d have said that growing up on a pig farm had stripped away any squeamishness I’d been born with, but staring into that foul space, I was sorely tempted to go back the way I’d came. But lives depended on me finding out where Angoulême was hidden, and if saving them meant wallowing in troll shit, then I’d do it.

Pulling off my cloak, I used it to wipe away as much of the waste as I could reach; then, taking a deep a breath that nearly turned into a retch, I wriggled into the shaft.

It was awful, and for every six inches of progress, I slid an inch back, my boots scraping against the slimy stone. The smell made me dizzy, my heart pounding as I contemplated what would happen if I became stuck. But after what seemed an eternity, my fingers knocked against the trap, flipping it open. Fresh air filtered down, and I gasped in a few mouthfuls before taking a firm grip on the edge and pulling myself out. I landed with a soft thud on the polished floor, and I fumbled around in the darkness until I found the basin of wash water and toweling, using them to wipe the worst of the filth off my hands and face.

Inching open the door, I checked to make sure there was no one nearby, then hurried into the depths of the stacks. From the time I’d spent here searching for information on Anushka, I was vaguely familiar with the layout, and I trotted in the direction of the estate histories, hoping to find something on the Angoulême lands dating back before the curse. Keeping my smelly fingers to myself, I walked up and down the rows, taking in title after title even as my heart sank. The information might well be here, but it would take me days, if not weeks, to find it by myself.