Mal stood ready with his sword as his ward worked at the massive locks. After several minutes, there was an all-too-loud clack as she freed the innermost tumbler. The door swung open. Inside, it was cold but not as damp, and the air was stuffy. Malowan smelled unwashed bodies and sweaty furs, but there was no one in sight. Agya stepped away from him, eyes moving nonstop while his were still adjusting to the gloom. It seemed to be a cloakroom, just as Vlandar’s information had indicated. Huge outer garments hung from pegs. The wall to his right held doors, a double doorway flanked by a single door to each side. At least, Malowan thought, there was room for both of them to hide in here. Chill air rolled down from above—the guard tower, clearly. Someone up there was snoring. I forgot how huge everything would be, he thought. Agya must be terrified. Surprisingly, his ward seemed only interested. She eyed him sidelong as he silently moved across the floor to listen at the entry to the tower passage.
