The pair in the cavern stared at each other with a mute appeal.
"Fulviac," said the girl in a whisper.
"The door!"
"It is barred."
They were silent and round-eyed, as children caught in the midst of mischief. Mailed fists and pike staves were beating upon the gate. A babel of impatience welled up without.
"Adrian, Gregory!"
"Lazy curs!"
"Unbar, unbar!"
Mocking silence leered in retort. Yeoland and the Lord of Avalon were still as mice. The din slackened and waned, as though Fulviac's men were listening for sound of life within. Then came more blows upon the gate; fingers fumbled at the closed grill. The man Gregory lay and stared at the rocky roof; Adrian sat with his face pooled by his own blood.
A fiercer voice sounded above the clamour. It was Fulviac's. The girl shivered as she stood.