Bracing himself on his elbows, Ilissos looked down. His arms were trembling and his head hurt, but peering into the dimness he thought he could make out a mass of thick foliage. He judged he was directly above a large veranda that had once been cultivated as a small garden from which to overlook the city. Val-zajjhak seemed to have taken the same care with this as with the rest of his house, and all seemed to be a tangle of tree, shrub, and creeper, left to grow and choke each other as they pleased. Vines and ivies had begun the ascent of the wall as if their aim was to smother the house entirely. Ilissos listened for a moment to the caressing murmur of the leaves. It was natural, fresh, a call to freedom. He glanced to his right and hope leapt up afresh. Some sturdy vine had scaled the wa
