It was two weeks later when the guard named Nimod threw himself off the stone parapet. There was some discussion of how he'd even managed to get up there; the last anyone knew, he'd been asleep in the barracks. Still, there was little question as to how he died; nearby guards rushed over immediately in response to his scream, one of them close enough lean over the wall and watch him plummet to his death. They all swore that there was nobody else on the stretch of wall that he must have fallen from.
Then again, he hadn't been known to walk in his sleep and his friends among the other guards swore that he wouldn't have killed himself.
Caracas, securely trapped in his oubliette, learned this in passing from the friendly guard, who spoke sotto voce as he lowered the evening meal of vegetable mash and bone broth.
"Why are you telling me this?" Caracas had asked, equally quiet.
The boy had shrugged. "It makes me nervous, that's all," he said. "Can't say that to the other guards; I'd never hear the end of it. But I wanted to tell somebody, and I thought you might like to know."
Well, thought Caracas, once the young guard had gone, that was interesting.
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