Lucian didn't have a nursing assistant uniform.
He had the gray novice tunic, empty hands, and the face of someone who clearly didn't belong down there.
So he improvised.
He found an abandoned metal cart at the first crossing of Level 1, with dirty rags and a bucket of water smelling like cheap disinfectant.
He pushed it in front of him. The cart squeaked at every joint in the stone floor.
SQUEAK. SQUEAK. SQUEAK.
It was enough to sound like he had a reason to be there.
Level 1 was different from the corridor where Raziel was.
The cells here had barred doors instead of solid wood, and light came from torches every thirty feet.
It was enough to see the faces.
Lucian would have preferred not to see the faces.
The first man was sitting against the back wall, back straight and mouth open.
Like he had started saying something weeks ago and never finished.
He had his fingers over the strings of an imaginary lute, moving them slowly in a repetitive pattern.
Lucian stopped.
