The farther down he went, the thicker the smell of blood became. The first dead Patrol Guard lay where the half-basement met the basement.
The jailer was in his early twenties. He had fallen at his post, a clean-edged cut running across his throat.
Whoever had wielded the blade had a steady hand. The jailer's right hand still rested on his saber hilt, the blade drawn only two inches. He had not had time-they had not even given him the chance to draw.
Yi Yang walked past him without stopping. A few steps farther on, he found two more bodies.
One had been stabbed through the lower abdomen, half a length of intestine spilling out. He lay curled in a corner, no longer breathing.
The other slumped against the iron bars, a broken nail lodged in his right eye socket. His face still wore an expression of shock. Death had caught him utterly unprepared.
At the bend in the Stone Steps, a cell door stood wide open, the cell empty. The next one down was empty too.
He continued downward, reaching the basement's second partition door.
A figure darted out from behind a dark side wall, clutching a bloodstained dagger and stabbing straight at Yi Yang's lower back.
Yi Yang shifted his feet slightly, moving half a step sideways. The dagger scraped across the hem of his official robe at his waist, slicing the fabric open.
He struck back, the spine of his saber knocking against the attacker's weapon wrist. The crack of breaking bone rang especially crisp in the narrow passage. The dagger flew free, clattered twice, and lodged in a crack in the wall.
The man staggered back with a muffled grunt. Before he could steady himself, Yi Yang's blade swept upward across the side of his neck.