text: [Themes: mystery / thriller]
  
  Wulf nodded slowly. "There is a tunnel, a hidden passageway that connects to Leofwine's room. His guards are long gone, but, if they were telling the truth that they saw no one enter his chambers, then the murderer must have come underground."
  
  "And where does the tunnel lead?"
  
  "A merchant's house...I didn't learn the man's name."
  
  Aldric clasped his hands together. "I see. You are right that Leofwine's guards are gone. I tried to question them myself, and I will, assuming they return from scouting alive. But let us discuss Grimbold. Did you learn anything about his murderer?"
  
  Wulf stared up at the young ealdorman. His voice was still cold and polite, but there was a hint of something else there. He couldn't place the tone precisely. "Not really," he said. "I spoke with the cook that probably killed him, but that was a happenstance and anyway, it was before Grimbold died. I have no idea where he might be hiding."
  
  "No one does," Aldric said. "The man was fat, but he's managed to elude all the guards in this city. Is that all you've discovered?"
  
  There was the strange tone again, more obvious this time. Wulf could not tell, but Aldric's eyes were shining very brightly, and he had to try quite hard to keep his voice cold. Wulf thought about the little heretical book and everything else he had seen and done over the past few days. "That's everything important."
  
  "Very well. You're a clever man, you know. Cynehelm was right to rely on you. It's funny, between Osfrid's cook and Cynehelm's clerk, the servants in Winchester are proving quite unreliable."
  
  Wulf scratched his arm. He was sure one of the many bugs in the cell had bitten him, but something about what the young man had just said caught his attention. "Cynehelm's clerk?"
  
  Aldric swallowed, and Wulf realized it was the first time he had been at a loss for words. "The man steals from his master," he said quickly. "It's an open secret in the castle, known to everyone but your employer."
  
  "My associate," Wulf corrected, his eyes fixed on Aldric.
  
  The ealdorman had taken a step back, and then he opened the door again and locked it behind him. "This has been most interesting," he said, his voice once again completely cold and flat. "Thank you for an excellent conversation." Wulf bowed his head a little as he left, but his mind was focused solely on Cynehelm's clerk.
  
  It was hard to tell how much later the jailor and the three guards came to his cell. Wulf had run through his conversation with Aldric so many times and had tried to remember every detail of what he had observed during his search for the murderer, but he kept remembering new details. What was important, he wondered? Which books had Father Leofwine had in his room, were there any obvious weapons in the heretic's house, had the cook said anything suspicious?
  
  The jailor interrupted these musings. "Come on. Don't keep the king waiting." Wulf stood slowly, rubbing his legs, and the weedy man barked again. "I said hurry up. It's bad manners to make the king wait to execute you." He gave an ugly leer and unlocked the door.
  
  The guards made to grab Wulf's arms and drag him out, but he stepped forward willingly. "Execute me?"
  
  The jailor chuckled, but the lead guard shook his head. "Beorn's a little bloodthirsty. King Alfred and his council have assembled to interrogate you. Apparently, you have important information about the murders." Wulf nodded, not entirely reassured, and followed the guards through the dismal dungeon.
  
  They soon left the dimly-lit corridor behind and ascended a narrow staircase to the castle's main floor. "I already spoke to Lord Aldric," he told the lead guard.
  
  "I don't know any more than what I've already said," the man replied, "but the king himself has summoned you. I suppose he probably wants to hear your testimony himself. Of course..."
  
  His voice trailed off, and Wulf stopped to look at him. The guard coughed and continued awkwardly. "Of course, if you are the murderer, then maybe Beorn was right, and Alfred is planning to sentence you to death."
  
  The possibility was alarming, and it drove all thoughts of his conversation with Aldric from Wulf's mind. There would be no way to escape execution, not once he arrived at Alfred's council chambers. He glanced at the guards beside him. Their eyes were facing forwards, and their weapons hung at their sides.
  
  They kept walking, and suddenly Wulf realized that he knew this part of the castle. It was very near the abandoned room with the chimney, the one he had used to sneak into the castle before. The room was in the next corridor, he was sure of it, which meant his best chance to escape was as close as it was going to get. The guards weren't paying much attention, and Wulf was fairly certain he could at least break free and make it to the room.
  
  > Run
  Without warning, Wulf shoved the guard to his left and sprung away, his feet moving like lightening across the floor. The other two set off immediately after him with drawn swords. "Don't you dare kill him!" the fallen one shouted, struggling to rise again.
  
  Wulf raced around the corner and spied the right door. It had been unlocked before, and he prayed that it would be again. He gave it a great push and it opened. He could hear the scramble of the guards behind him, but he ignored it, diving straight for the fireplace. It was rough stone, and he hoisted himself up as best he could, his fingers sweaty and clumsy in his haste.
  
  The guards must not have seen which room he had entered, which bought a little time. It was very difficult to climb the chimney, far harder than it had been to descend, but, inch by inch, Wulf worked his way up. He could see a little patch of faint light above him, though it was hard to tell whether it was day or night.
  
  He reached, trying and failing to find a good handhold above him. He kept searching, his arm flailing and sending a small cloud of old soot into his face. Wulf coughed and tried to muffle the sound, but it was too late. "I heard something!" one of the guards shouted, and he clawed desperately higher. At last he found a hold and heaved himself up. He was a little more than halfway up the chimney.
  
  Wulf heard the door slam open and someone run in. He reached again, but then his foot slipped, just a bit at first and then, suddenly, he completely lost his grip. He fell in a moment, crashing to the bottom of the chimney and sending a huge burst of ash out of the fireplace. The guard began to cough and fought his way through the dust, but by the time he reached Wulf it was too late.
  
  He lay, his body unnaturally twisted, in a dirty pile of ash and blood. "Damn it," the guard said, and he gave Wulf a little nudge with his foot. He did not move, and the guard touched his neck. It was broken, snapped by the cool stone of the old fireplace. "Poor bastard." He called the other guards in, and they stood in a small cluster around the corpse.
  
  "Poor bastard," they agreed.