Chapter 9

Fredas, the 8th of Sun's Height, Year 202 of the 4th Era

"Well, ma'am… If by down here, you mean you mean who is in charge of the entire mine? Then, no one," said Odvan. "We're divided into three gangs. The Nord gang, the Forsworn, and then there is us. They call us the Breton gang, and that's fair because more than half of us are Bretons, but we take everyone else. I'm more or less in charge of us Bretons. I have enough men who answer to me to beat heads if needs to be done."

"I see," said Daenerys. She had also seen Odvan slip his right hand behind him. Unless she was mistaken he had a weapon in his hand now. Clearly, he was wondering if she was about to challenge him for leadership. He looked nervous, but he was standing his ground.

"I beg forgiveness, Odvan," interrupted the Redguard prisoner standing beside them. Despite the polite phrasing, his tone was firm, and he didn't sound at all sorry. "We Redguards are our own gang. We are your allies, not simply because of necessity, but because you have brought order to your people. We still follow your lead, Odvan." His eyes flicked to Daenerys and then back to Odvan. "You have done well as a leader, but I speak for my people."

"Yes, Azeem, I know your people follow you. I was merely making things simple. No offense was meant."

"I accept your apology," said Azeem.

The banter between them was amusing. There was a familiarity to it. The comfortable back and forth of friendship. It spoke of their being a society of sorts down here which was better than anarchy even if it was just the crude order of a gang. However, that did not distract her from the fact that Odvan's hand was still hidden and Azeem was gripping a mining pick tightly. They thought she was a threat to their rule. They were right. She could take them in a fight, probably without Shouting or releasing her werewolf. However, she didn't want to take over. She had no understanding of the politics down here, and no desire to lead a gang.

"My wants and needs are simple: a place here in your gang for myself and Eltrys, food to eat, a place to sleep, a clear understanding that I am no man's whore. If I have concerns, I will take them to you, Odvan. I'm sure we can come to an understanding. I will pull my weight. You have already seen that I have a talent for Destruction magic. I am not a mage, but a Priestess of Talos. I can and will heal your sick and wounded. I am can also support you if the Nords go to war as Grisvar threatened."

Both men relaxed when she identified herself as a priestess of Talos. When she agreed to support them in war, Odvan started smiling. "I'm glad to hear that. Everything that you asked for will be given to you. That's the same deal everyone gets. Everyone who works gets food to eat and a place to sleep. My people break up fights. No woman gets forced. I'm glad to welcome both of you to the Breton gang." He slipped something into his belt and offered an open hand to her. "I'm afraid that I didn't get your name."

"Danyen, Priestess of Talos." She clasped his hand and returned his firm grip.

"Glad to have you, Priestess Danyen. Glad to have you." He shook her hand and then shook hands with Eltrys. "Good to have you, too, Eltrys."

Azeem took her hand as a gentleman would a lady, holding it lightly. He bent down as if to kiss her hand, but his lips didn't touch her hand. "It will be good to have a priestess of our own."

"Yes, it will!" agreed Odvan. He either lacked the skill to hide his glee or didn't care. His smile was wide and he looked like a child that was told that he could have an ale like the grownups. "And don't worry about Grisvar. He's full of shite, unless you blew it all out of him. We all hate the Nords. The Nords hate us back, and none of us trust the Forsworn either, but no one really goes to war. It takes at least two strong men to lift those gates. While you're lifting, someone can stab you with a shiv or swing a pickaxe at ya. Doesn't mean things are peaceful. Everyone keeps their gates guarded, but sometimes we open them to trade. That's when things sometimes get bloody."

"What would you have to trade down here?" asked Daenerys.

"Corpses, for one. The damn Forsworn are cannibals. They'll eat our dead and pay us in ore or water. And water is another thing we trade. The guards never give us enough. The Forsworn found a water seep in their tunnels about two years ago. They'll trade water away for silver ore or food. Healing is another. The Forsworn had the only healer, a priestess, Eola. She follows Namira, or the Rat as the Forsworn prefer to call Namira. Eola can heal, but she charges a lot of ore – unless you agree to join her for a meal, or provide a corpse for one."

"You trade your dead away to be eaten?" Daenerys couldn't entirely repress the horror she felt at the thought of cannibalism. Tamriel was full of wonders and in many ways a better place than Planetos, but in some ways it was even worse

Odvan shrugged. "People die down here. We have to work hard to meet the quota to have enough to eat. Mining is dangerous. Tunnels collapse. Rocks splinter when you hit them with a pickaxe. Wounds get infected. Or we just get sick. We used to throw corpses in the latrine. Now we trade them for ore or healing. I don't like it, but we haven't had much in the way of choices. Most of the time we haven't been able to pay the Rat Priestess. People just have to tough it out and hope their wounds heal instead of festering. You're going to be real popular. Nobody will give a damn that you serve Talos either. It might make the Nords more likely to come pay us for you to heal them rather than go to the Forsworn. Would you heal Grisvar if the Nords paid us?"

"Heal the man who wanted to make me a whore?" She did not want to. He hadn't gotten close to touching her, but his plan had been clear. He wanted her to service the entire Nord gang. However, she didn't need it spelled out to her that the Breton gang could use the resources. She took a slow deep breath and let it out first. "He would have to apologize first, like he meant it, but I'll do it."

Odvan laughed. "He might rather suffer, but the fact that you serve Talos could change his mind."

"Do you do much trading with the Nords?" she asked, mostly to change the subject.

"A little… They'll sometimes pay us to let one of theirs come visit Gisele or Jeanylle."

Daenerys frowned. "I'm going to want to speak to those two sometime soon. I want to know just how willing they are to be whores."

Odvan held up his hands. "Hey, I'll let you speak to them. It's their choice. I can't say they're entirely happy with their lot, but none of us are. So… Eltrys, you a priest as well?"

"No, I used to supervise at the smelter, so I know silver ore, but I've never mined it. I suppose that I'm going to have to learn how and earn my keep?"

Odvan clapped Eltrys on his back. "That you will. Don't worry, we'll show you how. There's not much to explain. You hit the rocks and dig out the grey shiny ones. It's boring and hard work." He looked over to Daenerys. "As for you, we'll carry your share. If you heal our sick and injured, that's more than enough. I suppose I should show you both around and find you a place to sleep. Azeem, would you mind the gate?"

Azeem nodded. "Of course. I will stand watch."

.oOo.

Perhaps because of her experience when she was sent to the Chill, she had expected prison to be more dangerous. After all, she was locked up with criminals. However, as she got to know them, she found that most of the prisoners were simply guilty of being Bretons. Not all of them. Many of the men were in for theft, either pickpocketing or burglary. There were surprisingly few fights. Most of them were over who had the next turn with the two whores.

While Daenerys was suspicious of the arrangement with the women, she had talked with both Gisele and Jeanylle. Gisele wasn't ashamed of what she did. She even had a taunting attitude toward it. Jeanylle was bitter but resigned to her lot. She preferred whoring to mining but clearly didn't want to talk about it. Although, she would gladly talk about anything else. Daenerys was also horrified to learn that Gisele was raising a toddler in the mine, and Jeanylle was expecting. Gisele at least was due to be released soon. Her crime had been plying her trade in the alleyways. Jeanylle was in for much longer. She'd been a servant in the home of a Nord merchant, and some silver goblets had gone missing. Jeanylle had been blamed, but she suspected the younger son had done the theft. Jeanylle was also thrilled to have Daenerys present not just as another woman to talk to, but because she had been worried about giving birth without a midwife. Apparently, being a priestess automatically qualified Daenerys as a midwife even though her only experience with childbirth had been Rhaego's premature stillbirth.

After she healed everyone who was sick or injured, life in the mines proved to be mostly boring. There was no sun, no sky, and very little to do. She spent a lot of time practicing her magic. She also had many seek her out for advice. As a priestess she was expected to be wise and provide counsel. They didn't seem to listen when she told them that she was only an acolyte, so she found herself listening to the problems and confessions of strangers. The pattern that emerged was that most of them had been given the butt end of the bread loaf from the start. There were few jobs for Bretons and all the good positions in guilds went to Nords or well-connected Bretons. Elsewhere on her travels, people had been worried about the dragon threat or the Stormcloak Rebellion. These people had been too worried about scraping by to the next day to worry about those things.

Every sad story she heard made her more and more angry at the Nords of Markarth. There was much to admire about the Nord people: their bravery, the way they treated women, their love of family, and how they expected more from their leaders. However, their prejudice toward all the other races and their arrogance was just as ugly as that of the Thalmor. When Grisvar did come to ask for healing, Daenerys was tempted to let him die, but she healed him. Not because she thought he had changed, but because the Bretons could use the ore to meet their quota.

Life in the mines settled into a dull routine, but it was not entirely peaceful. While some of the Breton gang were innocents imprisoned merely for being Bretons, others were a few violent criminals, and not everyone agreed with Odvan's leadership. Two fights broke out during her first three days for stupid reasons. Partly over her special treatment although no one was foolish enough to bother or proposition her. Word about her blasting Grisvar with a firebolt got around quickly. The fact that she was a priestess and a healer probably helped as well. Eltrys didn't have her protection. He was at the center of one of the fights and got his ass handed to him. From what she could gather he had tried to defend her honor from some lewd comments about how it felt to screw a priestess. In typical male fashion, Eltrys refused to talk about it.

Without the sun the passing of days was measured by the daily exchange. Every morning the guards would come down heavily armed. One at a time each gang would have a chance to bring out their ore and receive food, water, and other supplies in exchange. The other supplies included skooma to her dismay. About half the Breton gang used skooma when they could get it, which wasn't often. The Breton gang had a little more than three score members while the Nord gang probably had a little under two score, but the Nords mined just as much ore every day. Odvan believed the Nord tunnels just had richer silver veins by chance. The older inmates claimed that the Breton tunnels had once held richer veins, but they had mostly played out. Daenerys found it suspicious that even in prison the Nords got the better share. As above, so below.

Nobody really knew what was going on with the Forsworn gang. Odvan believed they were the smallest, perhaps as little as a score because they simply didn't produce that much ore. According to the rumors that was largely because of Eola, the priestess of Namira. The Forsworn were apparently eating each other in addition to the corpses of those who died in the mines. Based on the bulging muscles and general fitness of Borkul the Beast, the bare-chested orc who guarded their door, Daenerys believed it. Everyone else in the mines was scrawny at best. Three days after she was sentenced to the mines, a messenger from the Forsworn came and stood outside the gate to the Breton territory. The Forsworn wanted to parley.

A parley between the gangs wasn't completely unheard of, but they didn't happen often. The last one had happened two years ago when the Forsworn had announced that they would start trading silver for corpses. The one before that had happened five years ago. The Nords had encouraged everyone to come together, ambush the guards, and escape. That attempt had failed miserably, and the guards had withheld food for an entire week in retribution. After some negotiating, Odvan agreed that Borkul the Beast, Eola the Priestess, and one other would be allowed into Breton territory. In return three Bretons would submit themselves as hostages and be held by the Forsworn.

Daenerys waited on the Breton side of the gate with Odvan, Azeem, and the three men that had agreed to be hostages. The absence of the sun or any way of telling time beyond the daily exchange of ore for food made the wait feel longer. The Nords clearly knew something was up as they had several men guarding their end of the tunnel, including Grisvar.

The sound of Forsworn gate going up got everyone's attention. Daenerys was impressed that Borkul the Beast managed to lift the gate by himself when it usually took two to three people to lift one. Two Forsworn moved beside Borkul and took over supporting the gate. Borkul started walking toward him. Following behind Borkul was a woman, who had to be Eola, the priestess of Namira. She wore matching facepaint to Borkul, a white skull. Daenerys wondered if that meant they were lovers. Matching facepaint was something young Nords couples in their teens or early twenties did. Or maybe it meant they both followed Namira? Regardless, Eola looked creepy which was undoubtedly her intent.

Odvan sighed. "Time to see what they want. Let's open it up."

Odvan and Azeem grabbed the portcullis and started straining to lift it. Daenerys joined them. Even with three of them lifting it was still heavy. The two men struggled to hold it open, but she was too short to help much there.

"Send the hostages," said Odvan his voice strained as he held up the gate.

Daenerys cleared out of the way. "Go on," she urged the two Nords and the Redguard that had volunteered as hostages.

"Hey!" yelled Grisvar from the Nord side. "We see you! What's going on? Showing your true colors are you Bretons? For all you claim to be different from the Forsworn, you go running for your own kind."

Eola held up a hand and shot out sparks of lightning in Grisvar's direction. They didn't reach him, but they still made an impressive display. "We are all Namira's children down here. You, too, Grisvar. We were cast out, unwanted creatures, living in the dark, existing off table scraps. We will talk to you another day. Unless you want to offer yourself as the meal, you are not welcome this day."

While the jagged arcs of electricity had looked impressive in the dimly lit cavern, Daenerys recognized it as a novice level work, a Sparks spell to be precise. She wondered if novice level spells were the limit of Eola's capabilities or if she could cast more devasting spells. Her display certainly shut the Nords up, and there were no more interruptions as the Forsworn made their way through the main cavern and to the Nord side.

Once their guests were all in Breton territory Odvan led them to a side tunnel that had played out many years ago. Normally it was used as barracks for some of the Breton gang's better warriors so they were close to the gate. The sleeping pallets had been removed and crude furniture put in place for this meeting. Some of the lumber beams that were used for shoring up tunnels had been stacked up to form two benches facing each other. A few blankets had been tossed over the benches to make them more comfortable, and an empty water barrel had been placed in the middle as a table. Several torches were lit providing more than the usual amount of lighting. It still wasn't comfortable, but for the mines it was luxurious.

As the Forsworn party entered, Daenerys finally got a good look at the third member of their party. He was an old man, white of hair with a bushy white horseshoe mustache to match. His age was hard to place. Maybe his hair was prematurely aged due to the hard life in the mines. Despite having wrinkled skin, he still had the fit body of a warrior. Even more interesting was the fact that he seemed to outrank both Borkul the Beast and Eola the Priestess. Something that was confirmed for Daenerys when they worked out seating for this parley. The old warrior sat first. Eola sat down at his right side, and Borkul walked behind the bench and stood silently and to the old warrior's left.

Odvan sat down facing the old warrior. Daenerys sat to his left so she was directly facing the priestess of Namira. Azeem remained standing and to Odvan's right facing Borkul so that their party mirrored the Forsworn envoys. The water barrel in the center was rather useless as a real table. It was too small to accommodate food or drink, even if they'd had some. However, it did serve as a useful demarcation, dividing the chamber into two sides.

For a little while no one spoke. Eola smiled at her and showed a lot of teeth. Daenerys studied her in return. The priestess was younger than she first looked, merely in her twenties, and would be pretty if she didn't have a white skull painted across her face. The dirt and grime of the mines didn't help either.

Odvan spoke first. "So, perhaps we should start with introductions. I believe that I am well known, but I am Odvan and I speak for the Breton gang. With me are Danyen, Priestess of Talos, and Azeem. Both are my counselors."

The old man chuckled. "I suppose we should observe the niceties. I believe that my companions are well-known to you, Borkul the Beast is my strongest warrior and my second. Eola is a Priestess of the Rat, and she tends to the hearts of my people. As for me, I am Madanach and I speak for all the Forsworn in the Reach."

"Madanach?!" exclaimed Odvan in disbelief. "You can't be Madanach. He's dead. The Nords killed him decades ago when they reclaimed Markarth. Everybody knows that."

The old man shrugged. "It's surprising how many things 'everybody knows' that are actually false. Like everybody knows that you're a murderer."

"I didn't kill anyone before I was sentenced down here. I was sleeping off some mead at my aunt's house. It didn't stop them from arresting me and throwing me here. I didn't even know the man they claimed I killed."

"Exactly my point," agreed Madanach. "How many of your gang have similar stories? We were all tossed down here into the darkness to work until we die."

Odvan seemed dumbstruck and floundering, so Daenerys decided to step into the conversation. "I'll agree that many of us are down here for no crime of our own, but your story is still hard to believe. Why would the Nords ever leave you alive?"

A hint of anger crept over his features. "I was betrayed by one I trusted. Nepos sold out my people to the Silver-Bloods to avoid prison. He convinced the Silver-Bloods that as long the Reachmen believed that I was still alive, that they could be controlled. To the Forsworn, he claimed to be loyal to me and to be receiving messages from me in the mine. He used that to usurp my place, to order the Forsworn to attack not my enemies, but those of the Silver-Bloods."

Daenerys briefly wondered if Eltrys would be happy when she finally told him who had killed his father and why, but it honestly wasn't that important to her. Telling him would also have to wait until after this parley was over. "But something changed, about a year ago. Nepos and his family died."

"You are quite right. I finally did manage to find a way to communicate to my people." He broke into a wide smile that showed a few missing teeth. "Nepos and all those loyal to him have been purged. Although the Silver-Blood fools still think some of the Forsworn serve them. They're fools. Soon, all the Forsworn in the Reach will once again answer to me, and on that day that I reclaim my throne we will make Markarth ours again."

Daenerys glanced over to Odvan and waited three breaths. When he didn't say anything, she asked the question that was obvious to her. "Why tell us? You have kept your survival a secret for this long. What has changed?"

Eola giggled like a young girl. "Isn't it obvious?"

Madanach gave Eola a glare that silenced her. "What she means that a part of it is due to your arrival, a healer is worth twenty warriors. Another part has to do with timing. We're escaping Cidhna Mines, and we're doing it soon. We'll have to fight our way out, and more warriors would help. The Bretons suffer under the boot of the Nord stepping on their throats as much as we Reachmen do. We're all slaves together, join us and fight. I made a mistake once, I treated the Nords with kindness. I will not make that mistake again. We will cleanse the city of their kind and reclaim our homeland! A land where Reachers and Bretons will be free from Nord oppression. War is gathering in the east. The Stormcloaks are rebelling. The Empire will gladly recognize us if we but declare for them. Now is our chance! We must seize it, or it will pass us by."

"No," said Odvan shaking his head. "I hate the Nords as much as you do, but you're talking madness. Even if we joined forces, even if the Nord Gang joined with us, even with two healers, we could never fight our way out. It was tried five years ago, and twice more before that. We know what will happen. They'll drop the portcullises and seal off the mines. Then, they'll bring in the entire Markarth Guard. They'll torture the leaders to make some examples and leave the rest of us down here to work. There is a reason no one has escaped Cidhna Mines."

All of the Forsworn started laughing. It was Madanach who explained. "Many of my people have already escaped. This city that we call Markarth is built on the ruins of Dwemer city of Nchuand-Zel. What Nords claim as their city is but the ice on the surface of a lake. Like all Dwemer cities the bulk of Nchuand-Zel lies deep below. One of our tunnels broke through to ruins of Nchuand-Zel almost two years ago. The city of Nchuand-Zel is full of Falmer, and many of the old Dwemer defenses are still functioning, but my people found a way out to the surface."

Daenerys felt her heart leap at the thought of escape. She had only been imprisoned in this mine for a few days, but already she longed to see the sun again. However, something didn't add up. "Then why are you still here? Why do you need our help? Why risk telling us?"

Madanach smiled. "Questions, questions. If I satisfy your questions, will you fight with us?"

"Yes!" agreed Odvan instantly. "Any chance at freedom is worth it."

Daenerys felt herself growing angry with Odvan. Madanach was playing them, and Odvan was falling right into it. He'd just undermined their power to negotiate. She quickly tried to claw some of that power back. "Not so fast! We need those answers. We won't blindly sacrifice our lives. Why do you need us?"

"Because, there are Falmer and Dwemer constructs between us and freedom. We cleared a path before at the cost of many lives, but now the Falmer are stirred up. We haven't had a messenger get through in two weeks. We need to push through into the city and see what happened. That's where we need your help. We have some weapons. We will arm you, but we need help to fight past the Falmer and to the outside."

"No, that doesn't explain. Why do you need our help? Yes, I'm a priestess. Yes, we have many prisoners who are willing and able to fight for our freedom, but if you've been in touch with the outside for more than a year, where are your people? Why don't you have hundreds or thousands of Forsworn pouring into the mines? With those kind of numbers, you could force the portcullises and invade Markarth."

Borkul growled, but Madanach nodded. "A fair question. The Forsworn are divided. I wanted to do just as you said, pour thousands of warriors through Nchuand-Zel, force the portcullises, and storm Markarth from the inside. However, some of the chieftans don't believe I'm alive. We only received less than a hundred warriors from the closest villages. They came and left. They were supposed to return with an army, but that has stretched out for months. I thought word of my survival would be enough, but I'm going to have to leave the mines, knock some heads together and gather the army. I can't do that in here, and we lost too many to the Falmer. That's why we need your help."

"Thank you, that makes sense." It explained why the Forsworn needed their help, and if Madanach himself was leaving with them, then it most likely wasn't a trap. However, she was curious about his plan to return. "If we all abandon Cidhna Mine to fight our way through the Dwemer ruins, the Silver-Blood guards will notice. We'll have perhaps a day, two at most until they explore and find Nchuand-Zel."

"You're right, of course," agreed Madanach. "That's why we'll both have to leave enough people behind to continue mining. When I return with an army, all who will remain will be set free. No Breton or outlander need fear under my rule. It is the Nords who will learn what it feels like to have the boot on their neck."

Daenerys nodded her understanding. That made more sense. If the Nords discovered the tunnels beneath Markarth, Madanach couldn't use them to bypass the city walls. "And how many warriors will the Forsworn be bringing?"

Madanach frowned. "I don't believe you need to know our numbers until we have an agreement."

"And I don't believe we need to throw down our lives without knowing the strength of our allies. We'll have to leave at least half our own behind or our silver production will drop too much. That's about thirty warriors. How many of your own will you be risking?"

"We will send twenty men," replied Madanach.

"So, the Breton gang will be contributing more than half the men, poorly armed and armored, against an entire city of Falmer who are 'stirred up'. Is that correct?"

"I thought Talos was the god of heroes," said Eola with a slightly mocking tone. "Are you afraid to fight for your freedom?"

"No, I'm not afraid, but I'm also not a fool. I'm not going into battle without knowing my allies and my enemies." This was just basic strategy. How did Zurin Arctus say it? "If you know the enemy and know yourself, do not fear the result of a hundred battles. If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will also suffer a defeat. If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle."

Madanach snorted, "Did you read that in a book? How about I make that simple? Know your own men. Know who you're fighting, or you're fucked. Look. I'll make it simple. We'll bring twenty men and Eola. You bring thirty men and Danyen. That's fifty men and two priestesses to heal them. Against that we have a city full of Falmer and Dwemer constructs. Fortunately, the Falmer don't do tactics. They'll hide in tunnels and ambush us. They'll come at us in waves of attackers trying to overwhelm with numbers, but they'll never bring their full might against us. With fifty men we can punch through. We'll lose some along the way, but I wouldn't be going myself if I didn't know we could make it through. Some of us will die, but the rest of us will live free. Would you rather stay behind?"

"No," replied Daenerys. "I want to be free as much of the rest of us. Now that we have our tiles on the table, we can discuss the details."

She still didn't trust the Forsworn. She also didn't like the idea of allying with cannibals and daedra worshipers. Although that last point was hypocritical given that she had dealings with Clavicus Vile, Hircine, and Nocturnal. She shouldn't judge them for their religion, but Molag Bal had opened her eyes to just how evil daedra could be. She also couldn't overcome her disgust at the thought of cannibalism, but for a chance at escape, she'd hold her nose and work with the Forsworn.

"I don't see that we have many details to discuss. Put a weapon in my hand, and I'll fight," declared Odvan. "And almost every Breton will say the same."

"And every Redguard," agreed Azeem. "And the few of the other races will agree. Only the short-timers might object."

Daenerys frowned. "We need to discuss how many we contribute. Thirty men was an estimate. Why should we contribute more than the Forsworn?" Did Odvan know nothing of negotiation? "We must leave enough that our jailors won't get suspicious when silver production drops. Also, what are we going to tell the people who stay behind? How will we keep someone from ratting us out to the guards in hopes of getting an early release?"

"We will handle it," said Azeem. "Myself and my Redguards. They're loyal to me. If we stay as a group, we can control the rest. I'll place my people near the gates, and they'll do the daily silver and food exchange. If anyone objects, we'll deal with it. If the guard question us, we'll say we had a dispute about who was in charge and some people died. They'll believe it. Especially with me being the face that will speak with them instead of Odvan. It won't be the first time one of the gangs had a bloody change of leadership."

"I like that," said Odvan. "The next one up to be released is Gisele, and she's not up for at least a month. I don't think anyone else is up to be released for another three months, so we'll have time." He looked to Madanach. "Will your troops come through before then?"

"I have to find out why they're not here yet first. I suspect some chieftan is trying to take over."

Azeem shrugged. "If it takes longer, I will just tell the guards Gisele died. I doubt we'll have any complaints that we don't release her."

Daenerys didn't like that bit. Gisele was raising a toddler in the mines who had never seen the sun. However, she also understood that they couldn't trust Gisele to keep her mouth shut once she was released. It was Gisele and her son's freedom balanced against everyone else. She was trying to do better, to be a hero, to be worthy. However, she knew that rulers couldn't keep their hands perfectly clean. Sometimes ruling was about choosing the lesser of evils.

She also wasn't thrilled with the prospect of the Forsworn taking Markarth. Yes, Nord rule of Markarth wasn't just. She knew that. She had experienced that herself. She had been looked down on and despised since she left the Temple of Dibella. This war between the Reachmen and the Nords was centuries old, but the Nords in Markarth had tended that crop of prejudice and hate. If Madanach took Markarth they would just reap what they had sown. And yet… innocent people would suffer. The innocent always suffered in war. She was trying to redeem the stain on her soul from burning King's Landing. Helping the Forsworn sack Markarth was not a good thing, but she wasn't a martyr to toil in prison when she could escape. She just wanted a better way, or at least a better deal.

"What if it takes months?" she asked. "Azeem, how long do you think you can sit on the rumors? How long until someone tells the guards? What if Madanach can't convince the Forsworn to follow him? Those who stay may stay in the mines forever. What if we just took everyone and collapsed the mines behind us? Even some of the Nords might fight with us then."

Madanch scowled. "You don't know what you're talking about, priestess. First of all, collapsing tunnels isn't easily done. It's not too hard in principle. You have to foolishly dig while standing beneath the rock, but a whole tunnel doesn't cave in that way. Probably just enough rubble to kill the one digging. We'd have to have a dozen or more people sacrifice their lives to bring down a tunnel. Even if we could, I wouldn't do it. I want that tunnel open so we can retake Markarth. No, we leave enough behind to keep up the pretense. Otherwise, none of you leave."

Daenerys knew she'd just been slapped down hard. She hadn't known that trying to trigger a collapse would require deaths, but she should have guessed that Madanach wouldn't want to expose that tunnels exist under the walls. "It seems you leave us little choice. I thought you wanted our help."

"I do. I will return. I will be leaving some of my own followers behind as well. It will not be forever, just for a few weeks, a couple of months at most. When I return with an army, I'll set all the prisoners free."

Daenerys had the sense that she was losing Odvan and Azeem. She'd lost face over her blunder about collapsing tunnels. "And when we're out we'll be surrounded by your men and dependent upon you? What guarantee do we have?"

"You have my word." Madanach spit in his hand and offered it to Odvan. "Do we have a deal?"

Odvan spit in his hand and clasped palms with Madanach. "We have a deal."