The jail cell was dank, dark, and cramped. Condensation on the walls convinced Poxig that he must be in some sort of grotto. He could hear the shouts and shrieks of other prisoners in the cell block. John Carr paid them no mind, but he beckoned to Poxig to draw nearer.

“I know of your great exploits,” continued Carr, ” and of how you converted the great vampire to the light. Master control, of whom I have deep knowledge, has told me of this.”
Poxig wondered how this could be so. He had hardly told the mage of his life at all, and he knew about Conrad and his son. Perhaps there was something to this ersatz magician.

“He has brought us together, because he knows of your great deeds. “
“I’m afraid none of these exploits you refer to will gain us egress from this cave,” replied Poxig.

“Nevertheless, we are kept here for master control’s appointed purpose. You and I will see the daylight again.”
“I envy your optimism, but I’m not sure you are correct, sir,” said Poxig.

“Once the king learns that we are light warriors, he will grant us freedom,” Carr retorted.

“But until then, the light grows dimmer, and our food grows stale,” said Poxig.

The day turned into night as the two discussed the possibility of escape. A red mage could scientifically pick the lock with a ‘epingle’ , but the pin might cause a noise that would rouse the guard. Then, of course, there was a greater problem of trying to leave the dungeon. Heavily armed guards were around every corner, and without weapons, they couldn’t overcome them.

In the back of his mind, he was sure that Er. Seljuk had heard of his capture, and was trying in some way to secure his release. But Poxig reasoned that Er. Seljuk’s loyalty to the king made it difficult to oppose him, and perhaps that was the reason that he could not get his aid.

In the back of his mind, he was sure that Er. Seljuk had heard of his capture, and was trying in some way to secure his release. But Poxig reasoned that Er. Seljuk’s loyalty to the king made it difficult to oppose him, and perhaps that was the reason that he could not get his aid.

“Perhaps we ought to find the ‘sanctus descendit,’ and give the mole a chance to emerge from his hole,” said John.

Poxig could no longer believe his foisting of his magic art.