The door burst open. Beyond lay the blackness of an ebon sack, thick enough to cut. The air that puffed out was stale and dead, heavy with a musty smell of age, abandonment, disintegration.
Jarl pushed inside and heeled the door shut. The clamor of the alley faded.
Breathing hard he groped through the room. Thick dust scuffed up beneath his feet. Sais clung to his hand, fingers slick with icy sweat. "Which way—?" She was half-sobbing.
"Up!" Jarl clenched his teeth. "There's got to be a stair, a ladder!"
They felt their way through another room. Another, and another.
Then: "Jarl—! I've found it!"
Jarl wheeled, moving to her. He touched the edge of worn stone steps. "Come on!"
They climbed through the murk, and Jarl thought of quirsts and hwins—a thousand deadly, crawling, nameless horrors. But there was no other way, no faintest chance. Tight-jawed, he shoved his thoughts back and stumbled higher.
Three levels they climbed. Then the stone steps ended. Numb, rigid, Jarl felt his way to an outer room.
Stars shone faintly through a window. Sais still at his heels, he crossed to the casement and looked out.