Having disposed of the vermin, Garald looked around instinctively in the dark, trying to pinpoint the source of the voices. They were nearer now. Singing he might have called it. Poor singing. Then pale light caught his eye. It drew his gaze upward.

A pale Illuminance cast a silhouette of a ledge and highlighted an arched brick ceiling far above his head. He could see that he was in some sort of long channel — an immense one. About thirty feet up was a ledge halfway between the muck festooned wet floor where he stood and the ceiling beyond that. The immense passage continued beyond sight.

But the light and voices grew until he saw cowled figures at the ledge. They peered down into the gloom.

“Shhh!” came a voice. Then another. “What is that?!”

Garald realized they were likely referring to him. He stood surrounded by the carcasses of vermin with his hands covered in gore.