Logan was walking right behind Mark. “Uh, which way, pal? ” he asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Mark had been thinking about the same question, but Logan beat him to it. He hesitated. He wouldn’t always get this lucky with wild guesses, would he?
“Well?” John sounded exasperated.
Mark’s head swirled.
“Answer me,” said his lordship, “descendant of Ealdakin!” This time John’s voice was somewhere nearby, getting closer.
Mark cleared his throat loudly, trying to think of something to say, but his stomach betrayed him. It lurched uncomfortably, unwilling to let him concentrate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw John coming this way.
Mark quickly peered into the tunnel and pretended to examine it.
The truth was, the tunnel wasn’t much to look at. To the right was nothing but inky darkness. To the left seemed more familiar: a stretch of torches, starting from the wall before him and extending all the way to the very end. But that was all there is to it.