"It hasn't changed that much since I was a girl," she remarked. "I wonder when they stopped using it."
He grabbed her by the arm, and she turned to look at him. Her dark eyes were empty as if she didn't see him.
"You were imprisoned here," he said.
"I was born here."
"Ghost." Rokhlenu thought furiously. "That thing. Wurnafenglu. He is your father."
"No, I don't think so. I hope not. He didn't think so. My mother was one of his wives, but she became pregnant by another male. So he insisted, anyway. He had her thrown in prison and tortured her for the name, but she never told. Or maybe she did, and it didn't matter; they kept on torturing her, anyway. I grew up here. When I was a few years short of my first heat, Wurnafenglu bartered me to a rich old pervert of the Goweiteiuun Pack. He was an eminent ghost-sniffer, and smock-sniffer, too. I learned so much from him. My first, extremely late husband."
Rokhlenu noticed that he was gripping Wuinlendhono's elbow rather tightly. He relaxed his grip and put his hand along her forearm caressingly.
"I cannot stand," whispered Wuinlendhono, "that you know when to talk, and when not to talk. That you are as beautiful as a moon at new rising. That you are strong as iron, as cunning and lively as a flame. That I can trust you. That I can turn my back on you and know that I am safe, know that you will die defending me, that I would die defending you. Your love will make me weak and I cannot be weak. I can't be weak. Stop making me be weak."
"I wouldn't want you if you were weak."
She was in his arms by then, sniffing his hair and nipping at his neck. "Lying son of a never-wolf cow," she breathed in his ear.
"And don't talk that way about my mother. She was a very respectable rope weaver, may the ghosts leave her alone."
Wuinlendhono drew in a long sobbing breath and stood away from him.
"I'm sure she was," said the First Wolf of the outlier pack. "Eminently respectable. How sorry I am that I never got the chance to meet her."
"You'd be sorrier still if you did have the chance. She never was very kindly to my meathearts."
"And neither will I ever be, so we have that in common."
She took his arm and they climbed the dark stair in silence.
When they reached the ground floor, the other werewolves (including the four who had been left outside) were crowded around Morlock and Hrutnefdhu. Morlock was holding a large codex in his right hand and raising high the shining glass in his gloved left hand. Hrutnefdhu, standing beside him, was reading from the book in low tones.
"Interesting story?" Wuinlendhono inquired, when they were close enough not to shout.
"Many stories," said Morlock. "All grim."
"It's the prisoner registry," Hrutnefdhu said. "Names, crimes, dates of admission, dates of-well, departure, I suppose. And notes on their final disposition."
"They are all dead or sold," Morlock said. "The ink on the latest entries looks to be five years old at least."
"Five years." Rokhlenu shook his head. "This was a fool's errand. They must have decided years ago that selling their prisoners was more profitable than housing and feeding them."
"Why just female prisoners?" Morlock asked.
The irredeemables looked embarrassed on Morlock's behalf, the goldtoothed bodyguards amused at his lack of sophistication.
"There are more unmated males than females in the wild packs," Wuinlendhono explained. "Every female knows she can get a mate by leaving the city. Not that many want to."
"Would all the female prisoners over a stretch of five years or more be salable on those terms?" asked Morlock coolly.
"Depends on how desperate they are out there, Khretvarrgliu," Runhuiulanhu said philosophically. "You should see some of the stale biscuits, male and female, they have down at the day-lairs off the market. But people pay for their company all the time."
"Never you, of course," said a gold-tooth slyly.
"Yes me, you stupid bag of marrow-sucked bones. Me with my monkey hands and feet, even when all three moons are up, and everyone knowing about it on account of they call me Ape-fingers. You think females are lining up to mate with me? If I get it, I have to pay for it."
"Couldn't you find a female in the same condition?" asked Morlock.
"Mate with an ape-fingered female?" cried ape-fingered Runhuiulanhu. "I can do better than that!"
"Shut up, for ghosts' sake," Rokhlenu hissed. "We'll have the Sardhluun down on us and there's no point to that, now."
"Be quiet, by all means," the First Wolf agreed. "But," she continued, this was not a fool's errand. That book will be very useful. Very useful indeed."
Confused looks on most faces except Morlock's-he may have been still pondering the plight of the ape-fingered werewolf for all Rokhlenu knew. But light began to shine in Rokhlenu's understanding. "Not every female sent here was to serve a life sentence. No female was sent here for a death sentence. People will want to know what happened to them."
"There's that," Wuinlendhono agreed. "Then there's the money. The Sardhluun have been taking money every year for tending to the city's pris oners. The citizens of Wuruyaaria will be curious to know how that money was spent."
Nods all around, fierce grins. Morale had been falling ever since they found the prison was an empty stone box; now the warriors were standing straighter. His intended was good at chieftainship, Rokhlenu thought (not for the first time). It was one thing to realize what she had said; it was another thing to know that her fighters needed to hear it.
"Then we can declare victory and get out," he said aloud.
"I'd better get that pulley," Morlock said. "It'll look bad when they see we broke into an empty prison."
"Not worth the time-" Rokhlenu began, thinking of Morlock shuffling up and down all the stairs above them, but Morlock was already headed out the front gate.
The werewolves followed him out. Morlock walked over to the lines hanging down the wall, found one of the knots in the rope, and pulled it apart.
"Stand clear," he said belatedly, standing clear himself.
The long cord began to fall, piling up on the dark ground. A few moments later, the glass pulley landed in a shower of bright fragments. Morlock quickly stowed the fragments in a bag he had been carrying on his back, coiled up the rope, and did likewise. He looked up to see the werewolves staring at him.
"I don't like strangers handling my stuff," he said.
This was a universal instinct among werewolves, and they all nodded sagely in agreement. But what Rokhlenu had really been wondering was how Morlock had gotten the pulley to fall into pieces. He must have shattered it somehow beforehand, but kept the fragments from separating with some spell. Now the spell had been broken and the pulley followed suit obligingly.
"Morlock, you're the best of makers!" Rokhlenu said. "Ulugarriu can yodel up his own tail, if any."
"Like to see them fight it out," Yaarirruuiu said. "Morlock against Ulugarriu in a maker's challenge."
"Yes!" cried Hrutnefdhu, his eyes shining with admiration. "What a game it would be! Skill against skill, with life and bite on the line."
The gold-toothed guards looked sidelong with disdain at the pale castrato's enthusiasm, but the irredeemables chuckled and Yaarirruuiu clapped him on the shoulder. They liked the ex-trustee, and even respected him a little, though he would not wear (or could not keep) honor-teeth.
"Shut your noisy word-holes, my champions," Wuinlendhono said cheerily. "Let's get clear of this place so that the Sardhluun can start paying for our fun soonest."
This strongly appealed to all of them, and Rokhlenu had no trouble ordering them for a quick run back to the ropes they had left hanging from the Long Wall. He put Morlock and Hrutnefdhu at the end, where they would wind up anyway, ape-fingered Runhuiulanhu at the front, in case the ropes were gone and they had to rescale the walls, and Wuinlendhono carrying the book in the center of the company, where it was safest.