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A week later, Dave was working with a new crew of slaves building a shed by the stables for Blackthorn. These slaves, like the others Dave had met, were dispirited creatures with no ambition. They seemed to have lost the will to live. Their foreman used the whip viciously and enthusiastically, but the beatings seemed to have almost no effect on the group, who obviously thought life little better than the prospect of death. Dave found it hard to work and to mind his own business in the midst of such suffering.
Al had been insisting that he join Dave at the work site, so Dave had obtained clearance from Blackthorn. Al was instructed to play the part of a hardworking mute. The foreman left Al alone, and Al worked very hard, accomplishing more than what four whipped slaves could accomplish.
When Dave had first taken on this job, he had hoped to get some information about Pam and Little Thomas. The initial plan had been for Vixa and Alandro to find out what they could about Pam and Little Thomas, yet despite Dave getting them into the locked citadel for several nights through a drainage hole, which he had deliberately left a little too large, Vixa and Alando had not reported any information about the two.
Dave decided he had to do something himself. He knew it was a risk. He was too well-fed to pass close scrutiny as a slave; however, the foreman and the steward took no notice of him, and treated him like the other slaves except, that as a Guild member he was never beaten. Still, he knew that if he were to become too inquisitive, all that disinterest might change.
So far, all of his jobs were away from Bigelow’s sprawling citadel on the hill in the high point at the north end of the fortress. He never entered the citadel itself. He continued to bring food with him and surreptitiously shared it with the slaves when the foreman left the work site. The last while he had been working alone with a slave called Grigor, a grizzled, emaciated old-timer who somehow had found the purpose and will to survive.
On this day, Dave and Grigor were repairing a collapsed stable roof on the south side of the fortress. The foreman had just left, pleased with their progress, so Dave shared some of his food with Grigor.
“Grigor,” said Dave, “have you been up at the big boss’s citadel?”
“Yep.” Grigor continued eating as quickly as possible. “I’ve even been in the keep.”
Dave handed him another slice of stale bread. “Ever been to the dungeons?”
“Yep, I used to muck ‘em out.”
“Does Bigelow have a lot of prisoners?”
“Nope, he sent most of them to the mines when he first arrived. He still has a couple of foreigners, but he doesn’t keep them in the dungeon.”
“Foreigners?” asked Dave.
“Yep, a woman and child in strange dress. They’re not from around here. Must be from those people they attacked across the sea.”
“Where does Bigelow keep them if not in the dungeons?”
“They be up somewhere on the third floor. Bigelow didn’t take them along on his trip.”
“Trip?”
“Yep. I hear Bigelow left three weeks ago with his personal body guard. One of the slaves overheard his body guards talking about goin’ to the Mutandi Highlands to meet a wizard named Zambor, or some such name. The citadel has been mostly empty ever since. Our lives have been a bit easier since he be leavin’.”