The lantern's weak glow showed what looked like a wine cellar, but a man was slumped on a bench against one wall and a chain ran from his ankle to a ring set in the floor.
'Are you... a prisoner?' said Sacharissa.
'Ahaha
'How long have you been down here?' She crept down.
'Years...
'Years?'
'Got lots of years...' The man picked up a bottle and peered at it. 'Now... Year of the Amending Camel... that was bloodigoodyear... and this one... Year of the Translated Rat... another bloodigoodyear... bloodigoodyears, the lot of them. Could do with a biscuit, though.'
Sacharissa's knowledge of vintages extended just as far as knowing that Chateau Maison was a very popular wine. But people didn't have to be chained up to drink wine, even the stuff from Ephebe that stuck the glass to the table.
She moved a little closer and the light fell on the man's face. It was locked in the grin of the seriously drunk, but it was very recognizable. She saw it every day, on coins.
'Er... Rocky,' she said. 'Er... can you come down here a minute?'
The door burst open and the troll came down the steps at speed. Unfortunately, it was because he was rolling.
Mr Tulip appeared at the top of the stairs, massaging his fist.
'It's Mr Sneezy!' said Charlie, raising a bottle. The gang's all here! Whoopee!'
Rocky got up, weaving slightly. Mr Tulip strolled down the steps, ripping out the doorpost as he passed. The troll raised his fists in the classic boxer's pose, but Mr Tulip didn't bother with niceties of that kind and hit him hard with the length of ancient wood. Rocky went over like a tree.
Only then did the huge man with the revolving eyes try to focus them on Sacharissa.
'Who the --ing hell are you?'
'Don't you dare swear at me!' she said. 'How dare you swear in the presence of a lady!'
This seemed to nonplus him. 'I don't --ing swear!'
'Here, I've seen you before, you're that-- I knew you weren't a proper virgin!' said Sacharissa triumphantly.
There was the click of a crossbow. Some tiny sounds carry well and have considerable stopping power.
'There are some thoughts too dreadful to think,' said the skinny man looking at her from the top of the steps and down the length of a pistol bow. 'What are you doing here, lady?'
'And you were Brother Pin! You haven't got any right here! I've got a key!' Some areas of Sacharissa's mind that dealt with things like death and terror were signalling to be heard at this point, but, being part of Sacharissa, they were trying to do it in a ladylike way, and so she ignored them.
'A key?' said Brother Pin, advancing down the stairs. The bow stayed pointing at her. Even in his current state of mind, Mr Pin knew how to aim. 'Who'd give you a key?'
'Don't you come near me! Don't you dare come near me! If you come near me I'll - I'll write it down!'
'Yeah? Well, one thing I know is, words don't hurt,' said Mr Pin. 'I've heard lots of--'
He stopped and grimaced, and for a moment it looked as if he'd fall to his knees. He righted himself and focused on her again.
'You are coming with us,' he said. 'An' don't say you're going to scream, because we're all alone here and I've... heard... lots... of... screams...'
Once again he seemed to run down, and again he recovered. Sacharissa stared in horror at the weaving crossbow. Those parts of her advocating silence as a survival aid had finally made themselves heard.
'What about these two?' said Mr Tulip. 'We're scragging 'em now?'
'Chain them up and leave them.'