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the ruins of the northwestern bastion。 'We shall either offer their black souls to avert ill fortune； or we shall sacrifice them as thanks for our victory。' He would prefer the latter； and he imagined killing the two men on the very same day that he first ascended thesilver steps of his tiger throne； the throne he had sworn never to use until his enemies were destroyed。 He felt a fierce pang of anticipation。 The redcoats would e to his city and there they would be seared by the fires of vengeance and crushed by falling stone。 Their groans would echo through the days of their dying； and then the rains would e and the sluggish Cauvery would swell into its full drowning spate and the remaining British； who were already low on food； would have no choice but to withdraw。 They would leave their guns behind and begin their long journey across Mysore and every mile of their retreat would be dogged by the Tippoo's lancers and sabremen。 The vultures would grow fat this year； and a trail of sun…whitened bones would be left across India until the very last red…coated man died。 And there； the Tippoo decided； where the last Englishman died； he would erect a high pillar of marble； white and gleaming and crowned with a snarling tiger's head。
The muezzin's call echoed across the city； summoning the faithful to prayer。 The sound was beautiful in the silence after the guns。 The Tippoo； obedient to his God； hurried towards his palace with one last backward glance at the damned。 They could make their breach； they could cross the river and they could e to his walls。 But once at the walls they would die。
'T…I…K；' Sharpe said； scratching the letters in the dust of the cell's floor where he had cleared a patch of straw。 'L…O…K。'
'Picklock；' Lawford said。 'Very good； but you've left out two CV
'But I've got the picklock； sir；' Sharpe said； and produced it from his coat pocket。 It was a small cluster of metal shafts； some curiously bent at their tips； which he quickly hid once he had shown it to Lawford。
〃Why didn't they find it？' Lawford asked。 Both men had been searched when they had been taken to the palace aftertheir arrest； and though the guards had left the page of the Bible in Lawford's pocket； they had taken everything else of value。
'I had it somewhere it couldn't be found； sir；' Sharpe said。 'Colonel Gudin thought I was scratching my arse； if you follow me； but I was hiding it。'
'I'd rather not know；' Lawford said primly。
'A good picklock like that can take care of those old padlocks in seconds； sir；' Sharpe said； nodding at the lock on their cell door。 'Then we just have to rush the guards。'
'And get a bellyful of lead？' Lawford suggested。
'When the assault es；' Sharpe said； 'the guards will like as not be at the top of the steps； trying to see what's happening。 They won't hear us。' Sharpe's back was still painful； and the wounds inflicted by the jetti were crusted with dried blood and pus that tore whenever he moved too quickly； but there was no gangrene and he had been spared any fever； and that good fortune was restoring his confidence。
'When the assault es； Sharpe；' Colonel McCandless intervened； 'our guards are more likely to be on the walls； leaving our security to the tiger。'
'Hadn't thought of that； sir。' Sharpe sounded disappointed。
'I don't think even you can rush a tiger；' McCandless said。
'No； sir。 I don't suppose I can；' Sharpe admitted。 Each night； at dusk； the guards left the cells； but first they released the tiger。 It was a difficult process； for the tiger had to be held away from the guards with long spears as they retreated up the steps。 It had evidently tried to charge the guards once for it bore a long scar down one muscular striped flank； and these days； to prevent another such attack； the guards tossed down a great chunk of raw goat meat to satisfy the tiger's hunger before they released it； and the prisoners would spend the night hours listening to the creature grinding and slavering as it ripped the last pieces of flesh from the bones。 Each dawn the tiger was herded back to its cell where it slept throughthe heat of the day until its time for guard duty came again。 It was a huge and mangy beast； not nearly so sleek as the six tigers kept in the palace yard； but it had a hungrier look and sometimes； in the moonlight； Sharpe would watch it pacing up and down the short corridor； the fall of its pads silent on the stone as it endlessly went up and down； up and down； and he wondered what tiger thoughts brewed behind its night…glossed yellow eyes。 Sometimes； for no reason； it would roar in the night and the hunting cheetahs would call back and the night would be loud with the sound of the animals。 Then the tiger would leap lithely up the steps and roar another challenge from the bars at the head of the staircase。 It always came back down； its approach silent and its gaze malevolent。
By day； when the tiger twitched in its sleep； the guards would watch the cells。 Sometimes there were just two guards； but at other times there were as many as six。 Each morning a pair of prisoners from the city's civilian jail arrived in leg irons to take away the night…soil buckets； and when these had been emptied and returned； the first meal was served。 It was usually cold rice； sometimes with beans or scraps of fish in it； with a tin jug of water。 A second pail of rice was brought in the afternoon； but otherwise the prisoners were left alone。 They listened to the sounds above them； ever fearful that they might be summoned to face the Tippoo's dreaded killers； and while they waited McCandless prayed； Hakeswill mocked； Lawford worried and Sharpe learned his letters。
At first the learning was hard and it was made no easier by Hakeswill's constant scoffing。 Lawford and McCandless would tell the Sergeant to be quiet； but after a while Hakeswill would chuckle again and start talking； ostensibly to himself； in the far corner of his cage。 'Above himself； ain't he？' Hakeswill would mutter just loud enough for Sharpe to hear。 'Got hairs and bleeding graces。 That's what Sharpie's got。 Hairs and graces。 Learning to read！ Might as well teach a stone to fart！It ain't natural； ain't right。 A private soldier should know his place； says so in the scriptures。'
'It says nothing of the sort； Sergeant！' McCandless would always snap after such an assertion。
And always； every daylight hour of every day； there was the sound of the besiegers' guns。 Their thunderous percussions filled the sky and were echoed by the crack of iron on sun…dried mud as the eighteen…pound round shots struck home； while； nearer； the Tippoo's own guns answered。 Few such cannon had survived on the western walls； but closer to the dungeons； on the northern rampart； the Tippoo's gunners traded shot for shot with the batteries across the Cauvery and the sound of the weapons punched the warm air incessantly。
'Working hard； them gunners！' Hakeswill would say。 'Doing a proper job； like real soldiers should。 Working up a proper muck sweat。 Not wasting their time with bleeding letters。 C…A…T？ Who the hell needs to know that？ It's still a bleeding pussy cat。 All you needs to know is how to skin the thing； not how to spell it。'
'Quiet； Sergean