«Shall we go about my plight together, just so we are on the same page, we truly never are. First amongst my list of priorities is finding the source of that voice. Before I left the mindscape, the Whisper Stalker offered me a deal-»
"Hey, Valen, I'm talking to you, man," Dynatós said heavily, bringing Mr. Valen back to reality. They were in a low-ceilinged alcove, one they had hiked hundreds of stairs to reach, the slave quarters.
There were no doors, just a rusted gate that they could open at any time. It was dim, as there were no windows; in fact, the only light in the room came from a sputtering oil lamp mounted high on the dripping wall outside for them and the other rooms along the hall to use.
Everything leaked, and the floor was wet, like a small stream, the just bare rock, sloping towards a central drain clogged with filth.
Three metal shelves, stacked three high, served as bunk beds, but Mr. Valen was not seated; instead, he stood, his sandals soaked.
