Jimmy the Hand by Raymond E. Feist, S. M. Stirling

walls,
wondering what to expect.
    He missed the
first few grains of falling mortar but then a stone fell, hitting him
on the thigh. It hadn’t occurred to him that there would be
falling stones; then he remembered the iron grate above and hurriedly
climbed back down again, some little part of him wailing in
discontent. He’d have to go up again after all.
    In less than a
minute the heavy iron grate that had covered the shaft fell down with
a crash on top of the dislodged stones and the heap of sand that had
once been sturdy mortar.
    Jimmy noted a
cracked stone beneath it and blew out a relieved breath. Then he
re-wet the rag he pulled over his mouth and nose with vinegar, rolled
his shoulders to loosen the muscles and began climbing again. He
found a ring of faces waiting for him when he got to the top and
hands reached out to pull him up. He blinked for a moment; even the
twilight dimness of the big cell seemed bright, after the passageways
below. Feet rustled in the damp straw that covered the floor, and he
could feel more than see the inmates gathering around him.
    ‘Jimmy!’
    That was Flora’s
voice; she elbowed her way through the crush and embraced him,
recoiling instantly, her eyes wide, her pretty mouth contorted into a
rictus of disgust. Considering the condition of the dungeon and its
inhabitants, that said a great deal.
    ‘I know,’
he apologized quietly. ‘Quiet, unless you want the guards here!
The smell can’t be helped.’ He pulled out the bundle of
rags and the vinegar. ‘This will cut the smell, but it’s
the only way out we could find.’
    ‘I can’t
get down there,’ a legless beggar said.
    ‘Get down
where?’ asked one of the blind ones.
    ‘Anyone
who needs help getting down we can lower them with this rope,’
Jimmy said.
    He slung it off
and looked around for something to anchor it to, settling on the bars
of the cell. He glanced anxiously out into the dim corridor but saw
no one.
    Good. If
the excitement caused by his arrival hadn’t brought the guards
running they were probably safe. At least for now. But then, why pay
attention to a dungeon with no exit?
    ‘Why are
you doing this?’ Flora asked him in a whisper. She smiled and
shook her head, clearly embarrassed for him. ‘They aren’t
going to keep us in here forever, you know.’
    ‘No
they’re not,’ Jimmy said grimly. ‘Tomorrow or the
next day they’re planning to hang the lot of you girls, and the
beggars get fifty lashes apiece.’
    Flora stared at
him in horror. ‘What for?’ she asked. ‘What are we
supposed to have done?’
    ‘Only what
you’ve always done,’ he told her. ‘It’s just
they changed the law.’
    She closed her
mouth and her eyes grew cool. ‘Because of the Princess,’
she said.
    ‘Or just
because del Garza’s crazy,’ Jimmy said with a grin.
‘Doesn’t matter. In a few minutes there’ll be
nobody left for him to hang. Unless he wants to hang his own guards
for letting you go.’
    She returned his
smile slowly, a wicked glint growing in her eyes.
    ‘Well,
then. Let’s get to work, shall we?’
    Once they heard
the news, the other Mockers and even the few strangers pitched in
eagerly. When the rope was tied firmly, Jimmy said, ‘As soon as
you get to the sewers, scatter. Don’t wait around, unless
you’re helping those who can’t get away alone. By the
time I get down last, I want you all gone. Make your way as best you
can to your flops or back to Mocker’s Rest, but be careful.
Once they find you all gone, things in the city are going to get even
worse for a while.’ Jimmy sent Gerald, Larry the Ear’s
young brother, down first. Mostly to soothe Larry’s fears,
partly to show the girls and everyone else how easy the climb was.
Except for the smell. Wisely, he didn’t dwell on that part. And
once the escapees encountered it they certainly weren’t going
to climb back up, although if they’d known what was facing them
some of them might have preferred hanging.
    Finally it