you must know. I came here, and this wench managed to reach through the cage and knock me out. And if you breathe a word of it, I'll slit your throat. Now unlock this blasted door. I have to track her down or it'll be my hide!"
He walked up to the door, withdrawing his keys. A slight smile curved his mouth as the pieces fell into place for him, however misguided they were. Darsal's heart thumped loudly. It was actually working. In the dim light he mistook her for a Scab.
Because she was one.
The latch fell open. "I would make haste," the guard said. "If Sucrow finds out, you'll pay."
Darsal stepped out of her cell. "Sucrow? Not Marak?"
The Scab hesitated, then turned away. "You know what they say."
"No, I don't know what they say."
But the guard just walked away, clearly not eager to expound. Jordan and Xedan were still imprisoned. She heard them stirring. But Rona wasn't here. Jordan would never leave Rona.
She'd have to come back.
"Hey, give me your overcloak, I can't be seen in these clothes."
He turned back, offered a grin and a chuckle, then pulled off his hooded cloak. "Next time Marak might be better off sending a man to do his bidding." He tossed the garment to her.
"What's your name? I'll tell him what you think."
His grin softened. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No? Then I'll keep the cloak, if you don't mind."
He grunted at the veiled threat. "It's yours."
"And your sword."
He frowned, looked about to say something, then thought better of it and handed it over.
"Thank you," Darsal said. "Now leave me before I decide to test it."
The Scab guard left her alone in the dungeon, free from her cage.
She stood still for a long minute, trying to contemplate the meaning of her sudden fortune, grasping at the tendrils of a plan that might lead to her survival. She looked at the back of her hand again.
Jordan went up on his knees. "Go."
"Jordan-"
"Go now!" He pointed at the door. "Now!"
He wanted her to leave them. To what?
She had no key. If she took out the guard, she'd draw attention.
There were two possible paths ahead of her.
One led to this drowning the albinos had filled her mind with.
One led to life as a Scab among the Horde.
Both were death.
She was as well off in the cage behind her.
Unless ... unless the drowning really did lead to a new kind of life, as they had insisted. But even that life would likely lead to death because the Horde now ruled Other Earth. Albinos were nothing more than hunted animals.
And yet ... the idea of living as a Scab ...
She let her mind wander. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe she could be happy as a Scab. Within a day she wouldn't know the difference. The disease would take her mind and make her believe the Horde was right and the albinos were wrong.
She would be utterly deceived.
But what was so wrong about that, if you no longer realized that you were deceived?
As they said back on the other Earth, ignorance is bliss.
"Don't give in, Darsal," Jordan warned. His voice was tight. His eyes . . . "Get out of here."
Darsal grunted. No, she would not give in to the scabbing disease, not yet.
"I'll come back," she promised.
Jordan didn't comment.
"I promise."
"Drown, Darsal. That's all that matters." His voice was firm. Jaw set. Eyes expressionless and resolute.
What was he not saying?
She would flee this putrid Horde city, find the red pool they'd told her about.
And then ...
She shrugged into the oversized cloak and pulled up the hood.
And then she would decide.
"I'll come back," she repeated. "I promise. I'll get you out of here. All of you."
Quiet. Darsal started out.
"Elyon's strength," he called after her.
Elyon, what was she doing?
She tightened her grip on the sword. She would not desert them.
Small consolation.
It took her only a few minutes to navigate her way through several halls, up a long flight of stone steps leading to the surface, past the iron gate, and into the Horde city.
Night shrouded her. And no one paid her the
He walked up to the door, withdrawing his keys. A slight smile curved his mouth as the pieces fell into place for him, however misguided they were. Darsal's heart thumped loudly. It was actually working. In the dim light he mistook her for a Scab.
Because she was one.
The latch fell open. "I would make haste," the guard said. "If Sucrow finds out, you'll pay."
Darsal stepped out of her cell. "Sucrow? Not Marak?"
The Scab hesitated, then turned away. "You know what they say."
"No, I don't know what they say."
But the guard just walked away, clearly not eager to expound. Jordan and Xedan were still imprisoned. She heard them stirring. But Rona wasn't here. Jordan would never leave Rona.
She'd have to come back.
"Hey, give me your overcloak, I can't be seen in these clothes."
He turned back, offered a grin and a chuckle, then pulled off his hooded cloak. "Next time Marak might be better off sending a man to do his bidding." He tossed the garment to her.
"What's your name? I'll tell him what you think."
His grin softened. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No? Then I'll keep the cloak, if you don't mind."
He grunted at the veiled threat. "It's yours."
"And your sword."
He frowned, looked about to say something, then thought better of it and handed it over.
"Thank you," Darsal said. "Now leave me before I decide to test it."
The Scab guard left her alone in the dungeon, free from her cage.
She stood still for a long minute, trying to contemplate the meaning of her sudden fortune, grasping at the tendrils of a plan that might lead to her survival. She looked at the back of her hand again.
Jordan went up on his knees. "Go."
"Jordan-"
"Go now!" He pointed at the door. "Now!"
He wanted her to leave them. To what?
She had no key. If she took out the guard, she'd draw attention.
There were two possible paths ahead of her.
One led to this drowning the albinos had filled her mind with.
One led to life as a Scab among the Horde.
Both were death.
She was as well off in the cage behind her.
Unless ... unless the drowning really did lead to a new kind of life, as they had insisted. But even that life would likely lead to death because the Horde now ruled Other Earth. Albinos were nothing more than hunted animals.
And yet ... the idea of living as a Scab ...
She let her mind wander. Maybe it wasn't so bad. Maybe she could be happy as a Scab. Within a day she wouldn't know the difference. The disease would take her mind and make her believe the Horde was right and the albinos were wrong.
She would be utterly deceived.
But what was so wrong about that, if you no longer realized that you were deceived?
As they said back on the other Earth, ignorance is bliss.
"Don't give in, Darsal," Jordan warned. His voice was tight. His eyes . . . "Get out of here."
Darsal grunted. No, she would not give in to the scabbing disease, not yet.
"I'll come back," she promised.
Jordan didn't comment.
"I promise."
"Drown, Darsal. That's all that matters." His voice was firm. Jaw set. Eyes expressionless and resolute.
What was he not saying?
She would flee this putrid Horde city, find the red pool they'd told her about.
And then ...
She shrugged into the oversized cloak and pulled up the hood.
And then she would decide.
"I'll come back," she repeated. "I promise. I'll get you out of here. All of you."
Quiet. Darsal started out.
"Elyon's strength," he called after her.
Elyon, what was she doing?
She tightened her grip on the sword. She would not desert them.
Small consolation.
It took her only a few minutes to navigate her way through several halls, up a long flight of stone steps leading to the surface, past the iron gate, and into the Horde city.
Night shrouded her. And no one paid her the
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