It had changed its name when the current King, Ombar, had overthrown his brother and taken the thrown for himself, making Barrowhearth his home. Like The Walled City, the entire city was surrounded by a high stone wall, but, because The King’s City was considerably larger than its counterpart, it had more than one guarded entrance. The castle itself stood on a hill in the centre of the city, circled by a second impenetrable wall. Deep beneath the castle lay the dungeon, a large chamber with a low ceiling and damp running down the walls. The humid air reeked of sweat and urine. Conditions were not improved by the arrival of one hundred and thirty renegades in addition to the forty or so prisoners already in residence. “At least it won’t be for long,” Saker remarked dryly. “They will be doing us a favour by hanging us.” “Don’t be so sure,” one man called out. “I’ve been here for five turns.” “I’ve been down here for twelve,”
