THE IMPRONSINEMENT The armory smelled like old grease and cold iron. It wasn't a room for people; it was a room for things that kill. They threw me inside, and the heavy door groaned as it shut. I heard the slide of a thick bolt.

Clack.

I was alone. The only light came from a small, barred slit high up on the wall. It was just enough to see the rows of spears leaning against the stone and the stacks of shields that looked like giant, unblinking eyes.

I sat on the floor. The stone was freezing, ...