Now they had trodden the last flight. There was the massive door and in it the grating through which he had looked and listened. The bolts were drawn by the jailer who had joined them; it opened. There were the table and the stone stools, the rings of bronze, the coarse earthenware vessels, and the rest. Only the men were gone—of these nothing remained.
Khian entered the dreadful place. At a sign from Anath the guards saluted and withdrew, looking with pity at the young prince under whom they had served in war and who was beloved of all of them. Anath lingered to give certain instructions to the jailer, then as they were both departing he turned back and inquired of the Prince what garments he required to be sent to him.
“I think such as are thick and warm, Vizier,” replied Khian, shivering as the damp cold of the dungeon got a hold of him.
“They shall be sent to your Highness,” said Anath. “May your Highness forgive me who must fill this sorry office towards you.”
“I forgive you as I forgive all men, Vizier. When hope is dead, forgiveness is easy.”
Anath glanced behind him and saw that the jailer was standing at a distance from the door with his back towards them. Then he bowed deeply as though in farewell, so that his lips came close to the ear of Khian.
“Hope is not dead,” he whispered. “Trust to me, I will save you if I can.”
Next moment he, too, was gone and the massive door had shut, leaving Khian alone. He sat himself down upon one of the stools, placing it so that the faint light from the grating fell upon him. Awhile later, he did not know how long, the door opened again and the jailer appeared accompanied by another man who brought garments, among them a dark, hooded cloak lined with black sheepskin; also food and wine. Khian thanked him and put on the cloak gratefully, for the cold of the place was biting, noting as he did so that it was not one of his own, which made him wonder; also, that in such a cloak a man might go anywhere and remain unknown.
The jailer set out the food upon the table and prayed his prisoner to eat, addressing him as Prince.
“That title belongs to me no more, Friend.”