Frost by Robin W Bailey Page A

immovable.
    She cursed, smashed a fist against the door.
    A sound, a shuffle in the corridor, and Frost sidled back into the darkness out of the faint torchlight that filtered into her cell. The shuffling stopped; Orgolio, the jailer, peered through the bars. She crouched in a corner, holding her breath, making no sound.
    â€œYou all right, little woman?"
    She kept still. Orgolio could not see where she hid; maybe he would come inside to find her.
    â€œOh, so you not talk to Orgolio, heh? Well, that all right. Lots of people don't talk to Orgolio, but he not mind much."
    She was almost touched by the loneliness in his voice, but the bruises on her breast were reminders of his potential for cruelty. No pity, then, for this simple-minded brute. If he opened the door she had to hit him hard and run, and pray it worked better than the last time.
    Orgolio sighed. “Well, you be a good little woman, and pretty soon Orgolio come play with you nice."
    The face withdrew from the window. She cursed again to herself and shuddered. Play nice , indeed. She crept silently to the bars, watched the ponderous jailer drop into a chair a few paces down the corridor beside the table that bore her clothes and weapons. He appeared to fall asleep almost at once.
    As she observed him a dangerous plan took shape in her mind. She had to get free and find Kregan if he still lived, then get the Book of the Last Battle away from Zondu. The hour must be very late, and she felt in her soul that Zarad-Krul would attack before dawn. Still, her plan bordered on madness; she shivered at the prospect of failure.
    Well, there was no more time to think. She pressed her face to the bars and called.
    The jailer's eyelids fluttered. “Eh? Who calls Orgolio?"
    â€œWake up.” Her voice was silken, tempting, she hoped.
    He looked, but did not get up. “Is it you, little woman? Don't be impatient—Orgolio come play with you soon."
    â€œOpen the door, Orgolio. I'll come play with you out there."
    The jailer's smile disappeared. “Dumb woman.” He spat on the opposite wall. “You think I open door and let you out. You think Orgolio stupid like everybody else. Well, dumb woman, Orgolio never let you out. But you not be unhappy cause Orgolio will play with you lots. Uh huh, you be plenty happy woman, soon.” He settled back in his chair and fell asleep again.
    She licked her lips, wiped the sweat from her palms, then called his name yet another time.
    â€œWhat now, dumb woman?"
    This was it. No turning back now. “If you set me free I'll give you something very beautiful, very valuable."
    He snorted, rubbed his enormous nose. “Little woman have nothing for Orgolio. Guards take everything away from you."
    She gripped the cold bars tightly. “It lies among my clothes right there beside you. I can see it from here. It's yours if you let me go."
    He sat up, interested. His sleepy eyes fluttered like nervous birds. “Well, what is it, dumb woman?"
    â€œA dagger,” she whispered tensely, feeling weak in her stomach for what she dared. “Of purest silver."
    The fat jailer wiped the corners of his mouth, stared at the pile on the table, considering.
    â€œGo on,” she urged. “Look at it."
    Orgolio rummaged through her belongings and found Demonfang. The belt gleamed in the amber light. As he examined it, turning the sheath slowly, a broad smile split his thick-jowled face.
    Then, a new sound startled her—the rasp of her own quick breathing. She forced herself to be calm. “Look closely,” she said. “Look at the blade."
    Orgolio leered, showing broken, yellow teeth. “Dumb woman thinks Orgolio will let her free now. Uh huh, no. He will keep pretty dagger and not let you go."
    She banged her head on the bars, nearly screaming her frustration. “Look at the blade, you stupid cow's ass!” She hadn't meant to hiss. The jailer stared back with a stone expression that made her