It was nearly square--a hollow bubble in the age-old lava--axe-trimmed many hundred years ago.

What light there was came in through three long slits that gave an archer's view of the plain and of the zigzag roadway from the iron gate below.
It was cool, for the rock roof was fifty or more feet thick, and the silence of it seemed like the nestling-place of peace.
They sat down on wooden benches round the walls, with their soldier legs stretched out in front of them.

Alwa broke silence first, and it was of anything but peace he spoke.
"Now--now, let us see whose throats we are to slit!" he started cheerfully..