Down in the dungeons, the fuse burned to its end. A sheet of flame sprang up in the opened box of powder, reaching for the stacks around it.
IX
The first explosion came as a muffled roar. Corun felt the floor tremble under his feet. Men and Xanthi stood motionless, looking at each other with widening eyes in which a common doom arose.
So it ended. Shorzon and Tsathu and their wizard cohorts would be gone, but Chryseis, mad, lovely Chryseis, was loose, and the gods knew what hell she could brew among the leaderless Xanthi.
The walls groaned as another boom echoed down their length.
Well, death came to every man, and he had not done so badly. Corun began to realize how weary he was; he was bleeding from wounds and breath was raw in his lungs.
The Umlotuans hammered on the door in panic. But the twenty or fewer survivors could never break it down.
The devil-powder roared. The floor heaved sickeningly under Corun's feet. He heard the crash of collapsing masonry.
Wait—wait—one chance! One chance, by the gods!