"I don't know how long I had been sniffing and snorting there on my broken bunk (and I didn't care who heard me) when I became aware of furtive little sounds from the corridor. Nothing loud--no more than a slight scrape--then a soft grunt of surprise. I looked up, saw nothing in the darkness. A voice whispered, "Countess?" A voice I recognized. "Azmus!" "It is I," he whispered. "Quickly--before they figure out about the doors." "What?" "I've been shadowing this place for two days, trying to figure a way in," he said as he eased the door open. "There must be something going on. The outer door wasn't locked tonight, and neither is this one." "Shevraeth," I croaked. "What?" "Marquis of Shevraeth. Was here gloating at me. The guard must have expected him to lock it, since the grand Marquis sent the fellow away," I muttered as I got shakily to my feet. "And he--being an aristocrat, and above mundane things--probably assumed the guard would lock it. Sorry, I just can't walk--" At once Azmus sprang to my side. Together we moved out of the corridor, me hating myself for not even of trying the door--except, how could I have gotten anywhere on my own? At the end of the corridor a long shape lay still on the ground. Unconscious or dead, I didn't know, and I wasn't going to check. I just hoped it wasn't one of the nice guards. Outside it was raining in earnest, which made visibility difficult for our enemies as well as for us. Azmus took a good grip on me, breathing into my ear: "Brace up--we'll have to move fast." The trip across the courtyard was probably fifty paces or so, but it seemed fifty days' travel to me. Every step was a misery, but I managed, heartened by the reflection that each step took me farther from that dungeon and--I hoped fervently--from the fate in store if Galdran got his claws into me again."