I TURNED A CORNER in the dungeon and then I could make out the cells. The odor here was beyond belief, nearly unbearable.My God ,Sophie...

I finally set down the soup pot and started to work. These people had to be fed, and while I did the task, I would search for Sophie in every dark corner.

I began sloshing thin, murky gruel into bowls. My heart beat like a warning bell swung furiously back and forth.

I carried two bowls to the first cell. My hands were trembling. Soup splattered on the floor.

At first glance, the cell seemed to be empty. It was like a cave opening, dug out of solid rock, just a few feet deep. No light or sound, just the reek of human filth. A wet rat slithered out in front of my eyes.

Then, in the back, I saw the glow of eyes. They flickered, tremulous and afraid. From out of the shadow-a head. Hairless, gaunt, a sunken face covered with runny sores.

The prisoner crawled toward me, wild-eyed. I mus' be dead if it's a fool come for me.

Better a fool than Saint Peter. I knelt and shoved a bowl under the bars.

His thin, palsied hand darted out and grabbed the wooden bowl. A momentary sadness ran through me. I had no idea what he had done to put him here. In Treille, there was no reason to assume he was guilty of anything.

But I was not here forhim....

In the next cell was curled a Moor. He was naked and filthy; rats nibbled at sores on his legs. He muttered in a tongue I did not understand. He barely looked up at me, glassy-eyed. Take heart, old man. I passed the bowl under the bars. Your time is almost up.

I moved on to the next cells, not even going back for more soup. As with the first, the captives looked more like hunted animals than men. They groaned, peered out at me with beaten, yellow eyes. I took a breath against the urge to violently retch.

Then, from farther along, came a wail.A woman! My body tensed.Sophie? I did not know if I could go on.

There's your date, fool, Armand brayed from his post. Feel free to slip inside if she suits you. She has a magical tongue.

I clenched my fists and made my way toward the woman's cries. Inside my belt, I grasped the hilt of my knife. If this was Sophie, I would surely kill the guards. Norcross too.

The woman's wail echoed again. Go to her, fool. The bitch doesn't like to be stood up, yelled A............