Ok with this I'm looking for critiques on this snippet. Year is somewhere between 1485 and 1490, location is Calimport.
He heard the steady crunching of footfalls on the flaking mudbrick and turned to look at his jailer. He winced as the manacles chafed his wrists. “You know this place you put me in is nicer then half of the buildings in this gods-be-damned city yes?”
The man behind him laughed lightly. He then heard the man grab one of the implements off of the table and he slumped down further. The jailer walked up and suddenly a dagger flashed in front of his vision. He felt a stab of pain across his shoulder. The jailer then began to pace around him. “Why were you in the Pasha's personal chambers elf?” The jailer then stopped in front of Ranamyn and put his hand on the wound, pushing Ranamyn back.
Ranamyn sucked in his breath as both a sharp pain and a calming relief coursed through his body. “That was the Pasha's chambers? No wonder why it was so elaborate. You see, I was lost and...”
The jailer shifted his hand, and slightly squeezed the wound. “Lies.”
Ranamyn did everything he could not to scream. “On the contrary, I am one of the newest servants that were delivered in the last tenday. I truly was lost.” Ranamyn stared into the eyes of his jailer across from him.
“Those are pretty words. No doubt invented on the spot. You also are too calm to be telling the truth, considering that I am holding a dagger in front of you and that you were found in Pasha Aldemir's personal chambers with a weapon.” He flipped the dagger around and hit Ranamyn with the hilt across the face. “I will tell you why you were there elf. You were there waiting for the Pasha to walk in unawares, so you could kill him quickly and without noise. You would have been out of this palace before the guards even knew something was wrong. So. Tell me why you were there again elf?” He took his hand off of the wound on Ranamyn's shoulder.
Ranamyn paused while the jailer walked back over to the table. “Why do you think I would try and kill my master? Without him I would be killed. Why would you accuse me of such a thing, that has not even happened? It is folly to even contemplate raising a hand against one of the windsouled. You know this.” He dropped his gaze to the floor again.
The jailer walked around again, holding a butchering knife. “Then explain why you had this with you?”
Ranamyn looked at the knife as panic went through him. He stayed silent until he could think up a plausible response. “It... I am sure the cook is missing it right now. He had taken it up with him for the pasha's meal, but had dropped it on the carpet outside the Pasha's door. I was merely returning it to him and ended up in the wrong room." He then heard another person walking towards the room, someone large. Most definitely the pasha. The jailer let Ranamyn's head drop down and stepped back.
The Pasha stopped at the door and spoke. “Make sure he does not die Saban, I could still use a man of his skills.” He walked further into the room around Ranamyn's hanging form and lifted his chin. “What is the elf's excuse?” he asked as his icy blue eyes looked into Ranamyn's.
Ranamyn was about to speak when Saban cut in. “The pasty thing claims he was merely lost, trying to find the chef so he could give the knife back to him, a knife he claims the chef dropped. I hardly see how this would fit, since he managed to cut through four of your guards when he was being captured.”
The Pasha laughed a little. “So you chain him up in this room and torture him as if he is one of the firesouled? It is after all only humans that he killed. Give me the keys.” Pasha Aldemir then unlocked the manacles that held Ranamyn up. "Five days is long enough. Give him water and get him dressed. Lets see if we can train him.”
The Pasha walked around the posts and left the room as Saban the jailer smashed something into Ranamyn's face. All went dark.