Exploitable Weaknesses, Brian Keller [best ereader for graphic novels .TXT] 📗

filling with water.” Iona was surprised, “The rock is porous?” Yoren shook his head, “Not at all, but there are several crevices and cracks. The islands take a regular beating from the sea. They’re the reason the bay remains so calm all year.” She noted the tall towers, “Are prisoners kept up there?” He answered, “No. Too inconvenient to supervise and cart meals, such as they are, two times daily. Most prisoners are kept on ground level rooms. A few are kept on what would be the second floor, but the things that would normally define one floor from another are a little skewed in there. Rather than attempt to explain it, I’ll just let you see it for yourself.”

She was still squinting at the towers, “The towers are for signaling then?” Yoren confirmed, “Yes. Though these days the fears of another nation sending an invading armada are almost non-existent. The army still maintains a token garrison here, generally made up of officers and enlisted men who have failed to impress. Ships, usually no more than three at a time, make the trip out here a couple times a week, to drop off supplies. Then they’ll usually make a large loop out there”, he pointed out over the sea, “before coming back to port. They’re rarely out longer , than forty-eight hours.” His tone of voice changed, mostly thinking out loud, “Usually not more than an overnight trip, now that I think about it.”

They drew up to a stone jetty and threw a rope to one of the soldiers who had interrupted his patrol to meet them. There were several metal hoops sunk partway into the stone along the edges of the jetty. Obviously, all of these weren’t just mooring points. They were too close together. The jetty was flat but the ground sloped up sharply to the entrance to the prison. The entrance was a simple, iron portcullis with an iron grate pedestrian door built into it. The portcullis was down but the door hung open, askew on its hinges.

Once inside it became obvious that the prison walls were made of two layers of huge, rough cut stone blocks. The cells were formed by large gaps between the inner layer of stones. The interior grounds sloped upward to the east so the entrances to the ‘first level’ cells on the east side were technically underground, meaning the second level cells were actually ground level. There were five buildings arranged in the center. Their purposes were unclear but likely one was for food preparation and at least one would likely be a barracks building. She gazed around the perimeter of the grounds. There could easily be over a hundred cells but the loudest sounds were the wind making a chorus of low howls as it passed over the walls.

Yoren gestured to the left, “Well, let’s start. Just stopping to glance in each cell will take us over an hour… and we have questions to ask. I just want you to help show me who to ask.” Almost three hours later they hadn’t quite made it halfway around the grounds. They had spoken with over a dozen and had interviewed half of them. She now knew the purpose for at least one of the five buildings. It was for conducting interviews. She still wasn’t sure why Yoren decided it was important for her to be here. She had nothing to do with selecting who was questioned, and even less to do with the questions being asked.

A few prisoners later and it became clear to her. The prisoner had a fairly powerful build. He was hanging suspended by chains hooked to a metal strap that was belted around his waist. His hands were enclosed in plate armor mitts that were battered to the point of uselessness. The shackles around his ankles were chained to hoops in the floor. He was facing the door, observing whoever was outside his cell. Despite the bruises and welts, she recognized him immediately. This was the Assassin who had decided not to kill her after he’d killed the Assistant Harbormaster. He recognized her too, and dropped his gaze.

Yoren smiled, “You know this one.” He leaned against the cell bars and called inside, “You know each other. Yes?” He pointed at the cell door, indicating that the guard should open it. The guard complied. Yoren pointed at the prisoner, “I want to talk to him.” The guard spoke, “Go ahead, sir.” Yoren looked back outside and the guard understood, “Sir, I won’t unlock him until I have more men here. Opening the cell door is fine, but that’s it.” Yoren approached the prisoner and asked, “Why should he fear you? Why are you secured like this?” Yoren looked back at Iona, “Do you know?” The guard must have thought the Spymaster was asking him. He replied, “Sir, before he could be subdued and arrested, this young man took two crossbow bolts; one through his right leg and the other into the left side of his chest. Then he killed three more soldiers, good fighters, before someone managed to get behind him with a mace.” Yoren waited impatiently for the guard to finish speaking, then inquired, with an edge to his voice, “Weren’t you fetching reinforcements?”

Iona stepped forward, within comfortable speaking distance of the prisoner, “What’s your name? I have wondered.” The guard had turned to leave but he turned back with his eyes wide, “Miss! Watch yourself. You’re getting too close.” Yoren took a step toward the man, glaring. The guard quickly walked away. Iona hadn’t taken her eyes off the prisoner, though he had turned his head to watch the proceedings. He turned back to face her and in a voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used in weeks, croaked, “Grief.” Yoren stepped in, as if closing in on a kill, “Grief? That’s your name?” Grief turned to look at Yoren with an enigmatic smile on his face as