Or, the sliver of Logan that wasn’t rage thought as a peculiar smell assaulted his senses, maybe it was called The Maw for different reasons. Fumes were constantly escaping from the north side of Vos Island and filling the air of the prison with the smell of brimstone before finally finding the open air.

Neph Dada paused before an iron gate while one of the men guarding Logan fumbled for a key. Neph glared at the man and waved a hand in front of the lock, the tendrils of black on his arm not quite moving in time with his arm. The lock clicked.

The guard produced the correct key and smiled weakly.

“I’ve other matters to attend to,” Neph said. “Can you handle him by yourselves from here?”

“Yes, sir,” the guard said, looking at Logan nervously.

Logan’s heart smiled. Fighting two armed men while naked wasn’t exactly good odds, but with Neph’s magical bonds holding his arms motionless and giving his legs barely enough space to shuffle, there was nothing he could do.

“Good. The bonds will hold for ten minutes,” Neph said.

“Plenty of time, sir,” the guard said.

With a snort, Neph left them. The big-nosed guard locked the iron gate, giving Logan time to adjust to the dim room. To the right and left were heavy doors with iron-barred windows.

“In case you’re wondering,” Nose said. “These are the nicest suites in the place. Real sweet places. For nobles. Not for you, though.” He chuckled.

Logan looked at the man flatly.

“Ramp up there goes to the surface. Not for you, either.”

The weasel-faced guard looked at Nose, “You always taunt dead men?”

“Always,” Nose said, stuffing a finger up his nose. “What?” he said as Weasel looked at him. “I was scratching.”

“Shut up,” Weasel said. “We down on three?”

“Yeah, all the way to the Howlers. Let’s make it quick.” Nose tapped on the fourth door as he passed it. “I’ll be right back for ya, sweetheart!”

There was a little cry from the cell, but the woman inside didn’t look up.

“That bitch makes me hot,” Nose said. “You seen her?”

Weasel shook his head, so Nose continued, “Got more scars on her face than a highlander’s got fleas, but who needs to look at her face, huh?”

“The prince will rip your throat out if you touch her,” Weasel said.

“Ah, how’s he gonna know?”

“He’s coming down tonight. Wants to free our Sa’kagé boys and check on that wench and some little kid they dragged in,” Weasel said.

“Tonight? Hell, she won’t take me five minutes,” Nose said. He laughed.