Chapter fourteenOnly four prisoners died of their injuries during the night and in the morning the gaolers dragged the bodies out with iron hooks.
Many of the rest of us were in bad case and all night the prison guards shouted at us miserable scum of the gutters to keep quiet. The place was much like an undercroft, low of arched roof, spacious and separated by massive hunched pillars. What little straw there was stank damply and verminously. I’d found a stone wall against which I propped my back and nursed my head where not only all the Bells of Beng Kishi persisted in ringing but Jen Jorah’s ice drills pierced pitilessly from temple to temple.
Along with the other miscreants, drunks, petty thieves, and brawlers dredged from the gutters of the runnels of Oxonium I waited for my doom to b
