Plaster broken away from the stone littered the ground and crunched beneath their feet. No echoes here; the darkness beyond the beam of light cast by their lanterns seemed to absorb their footfalls. They passed a doorway, then another. Morgan flashed the light he’d given her into each before she scurried past in spite of Ravindra’s soft tread behind her. “This corridor goes through the living quarters. It would have led outside, once.” Unwyn, quite unperturbed, pointed to a pile of rubble where the wall had collapsed. He skirted around and went to the right. At the end of the passage they stepped into what had been the kitchens. Even Morgan could see that. The basic framework was still recognizable; benches for preparation, sinks, the remains of a stove. Most of the oven doors had joined the litter on the floor but one hung on still, demonstrating the durability of materials from an earlier time. Unwyn hesitated. “We’ve done some work here, collecting shards and material. But there’s years of effort left.
