‘They’ve been ordered by the governor to stop us from entering,’ the officer shouted back with a hand cupped over Bahn’s ear.
‘They know why you’re here?’
‘Of course. That’s why the governor’s trying to stop us.’
‘All right,’ Bahn said. ‘Tell your men to give it a rest.’
He turned to face the jailers as the noise began to settle down.
‘I am an aide to General Creed, and his order has been clearly given. Now open the gates and stand aside.’
He saw a movement amongst the men, and two of the jailers parted as a grey-haired fellow pushed through to confront him. ‘I am Governor Plais,’ the man informed him, ‘and by the council’s authority I am responsible for this institution. I repeat what I have already said to your fellow officer. There are no men fighting fit within these walls. They would not be here otherwise.’
‘Governor,’ said Bahn, stepping up to the gates. ‘Right now, an army of forty thousand Mannians stands on the shore of Pearl Bay. As you can hear, even now the Fourth Army pounds the Shield in preparation for a full-scale assault. We need every man who can fight, whatever his crimes, whatever his state of mind.’
‘But these men are disturbed! Dangerous even!’
‘Still, the order has been given. Now open the gates.’
For a moment no one moved.
‘Open them!’ Bahn snapped without patience. He looked at the jailers behind the gate until one of them took a step forwards, and then the rest of them followed, and the gates squealed open, and Bahn and the Red Guards stepped through into the courtyard with the governor protesting in his face.
‘The council will hear of this,’ he shouted, but Bahn stepped around him and headed for the building entrance.
‘I have no doubt that they will,’ he cast back over his shoulder.
The cell was approached through a long passageway sealed by a series of iron gates cast brown by rust, which shed the odd flake whenever a gate slammed shut and was locked behind them. The walls were damp down here in this silent basement level, where the only light came from the oil lantern carried by one of the jailers.
‘But the man is a maniac,’ the governor was insisting in his grating voice.
‘I know who he is. I fought by his side in the first years of the siege.’
‘But he’s a convicted murderer, a torturer – he’s more likely to kill you than the enemy! Have you lost your mind?’
‘He’s the only man here I haven’t yet spoken to. I’ll have a word with him, at least.’
Darkness pressed upon them from all sides. It seemed to follow their little haven of light as they walked in a collective hush along the passageway, the only sounds the dripping of water and the scrapes of their feet against the stone floor. There were four jailers with them, clad in leather aprons and gloves that came up to their armpits, stout clubs dangling from their grips. They were silent, their eyes fixed ahead. They seemed to be steeling themselves for confrontation.
Bahn followed them, not liking the close confines of this place. He couldn’t imagine being locked up as a prisoner down here. An hour would have him tearing at the walls to get out.
The door to the cell was made from a solid, fire-hardened slab of tiq wood banded by iron. One of the jailers stepped up and opened the small viewing hatch.
Bahn leaned forward to peer inside.
He saw a candle, burning a halo of warmth in the centre of a small vaulted cell. In its light sat a large naked man, chained by the neck to the wall he leaned his back against, one leg stretched before him, the other bent up and its knee supporting a limp hand; his face was smoky shadow, with two eyes that glowered at those in the hatch with open hostility.
Bull, Bahn thought. How did I know you would always end up like this?
He stepped back as the door was unlocked and pulled open by two straining jailers, the hinges protesting loudly.
‘Stay behind the chain,’ the jailer with the lantern advised Bahn. ‘He blinded one of our men a few months back. With his thumbs.’
The man ducked inside, with his club at the ready. Bahn stepped into the cell and stopped by his side, his ankles touching a chain that hung slack across the tiny space. He held his helm beneath his arm, and tried to stand tall in