Monk Zen didn't like what he had to do. He didn't like that they all hated him now, and he wanted to argue with them, to show them what they were going to become. Like her. Like the true evils.
Gnawing the ropes was easy. But the archers had hurt him, and his back was flayed raw. It took time and pain. He paused and rested. Paused and slept. Awoke when he heard voices coming into the cellars from below. He gnawed his bonds again, mad with fury like a trapped animal. When he exhausted his muscles, he made himself pray. He overcame the pain. He was good at pain.
After hours and more hours, he had the ropes off. Then he got through the scuttle – a trap door to the next cellar room. He moved carefully, and he only passed out once and woke again minutes or hours later. He made it to the base of the main cellar ramp, where he could hear a pair of archers on duty.
