second mark at ground level and repeated the process. On the third mark, midway between the two, the stone cracked clean.
“We will get out someday. I’m sure of it,” he lied.
Nicola didn’t speak again that day. Unsha brought their food, but no news of the other Rider.
The next morning Nicola stopped talking all together. She stopped measuring as well, and although the guards beat her, she refused to measure again.
With each new day, the guards punished her. No one was allowed to quit here, but the rules were the same: if one partner died, the other took a spear. Every night Dain used his limited healing abilities to knit Nicola’s torn skin and broken bones back together. She never cried out, but the process had to be excruciating.
Both measuring and cutting now, he should have been angry with her. He worked hard to meet the two-block quota and instead of anger felt only pity for the young girl. He held her each night, listening to her sobs.
She is just a girl, too young to be here. How could someone so young be sent to burn and kill?
The guards placed bets on how long she would last. He heard them and hated them for it. The first night he overhead their wagering, he vowed to keep her alive and to get her out of this place.
Twelve nights into Nicola’s silence Unsha finally had news. Nicola lay nearby, apathetic and recovering from the day’s beating. Most nights she simply fell and lay still after the healing. Rarely, she ate a little afterward.
Her mind has been broken , Dain feared. She seemed more dead than alive anymore, like some living doll.
“Jensen lives,” Unsha said.
“What?” Nicola mumbled.
Dain stayed silent. Here, perhaps, was finally something to bring her back to life.
“The other Rider, Jensen. She lives.”
“You are sure? Is she safe?” Nicola asked.
“Red-headed woman with fair skin and gray eyes. She’s as safe as any of us here.”
Over the past half-year Nicola’s hair had grown in, Dain noted, a dark shade of red.
“She thought you were dead all this time. She heard a young girl died just weeks after you all arrived. She gave up all hope until Dain had me ask around.”
Nicola reached for Dain’s hand and squeezed it. Her eyes were damp.
He wanted to ask Unsha if Jensen had any plans for escape, but hesitated. How far could they trust the Tyberon woman? Like them, Unsha was a prisoner; she might sell them out for a chance at escape.
Unsha must have sensed his reluctance. The stooped woman smiled.
“Jensen trusts me. She plans an escape.”
“Tell us how,” Dain said.
“I don’t know the details, but it involves the festival of Mantal.”
“What’s Mantal?”
“Mantal is the god of night. He takes the form of a tegu on the first full moon of summer.”
“What’s a tegu?”
Unsha furrowed her brow. “I don’t know your word for it. It is a great lizard, larger than a house, with thick brown scales from head to tail. They hunt the herds of bison at night and sleep during the day. All tribes fear them.”
Dain recalled the scaly tail he’d seen on the march here. The Tyberons truly had been frightened, then.
“How would the—” he began, but Unsha raised an open hand to stop him.
“I can speak no further, the guards will be looking for me. Tomorrow night we will speak again.”
The old woman shouldered her sloshing pots and faded into the night. Dain watched her lantern swing as she delivered food to the other prisoners.
“Jensen is your mother,” he said when they were alone. It wasn’t a question, and Nicola didn’t take it as one.
“Mother will get us out. She’ll have a plan.”
That night, the first in a long time, Nicola didn’t cry.
Unsha didn’t return.
Not the following day or the next. Taking Unsha’s place was a new woman, one far younger. Dain tried to talk to her, to feel her out and see if she could or would pass along a message to Unsha or Jensen, but this proved impossible. When he tried, she shook her head
“We will get out someday. I’m sure of it,” he lied.
Nicola didn’t speak again that day. Unsha brought their food, but no news of the other Rider.
The next morning Nicola stopped talking all together. She stopped measuring as well, and although the guards beat her, she refused to measure again.
With each new day, the guards punished her. No one was allowed to quit here, but the rules were the same: if one partner died, the other took a spear. Every night Dain used his limited healing abilities to knit Nicola’s torn skin and broken bones back together. She never cried out, but the process had to be excruciating.
Both measuring and cutting now, he should have been angry with her. He worked hard to meet the two-block quota and instead of anger felt only pity for the young girl. He held her each night, listening to her sobs.
She is just a girl, too young to be here. How could someone so young be sent to burn and kill?
The guards placed bets on how long she would last. He heard them and hated them for it. The first night he overhead their wagering, he vowed to keep her alive and to get her out of this place.
Twelve nights into Nicola’s silence Unsha finally had news. Nicola lay nearby, apathetic and recovering from the day’s beating. Most nights she simply fell and lay still after the healing. Rarely, she ate a little afterward.
Her mind has been broken , Dain feared. She seemed more dead than alive anymore, like some living doll.
“Jensen lives,” Unsha said.
“What?” Nicola mumbled.
Dain stayed silent. Here, perhaps, was finally something to bring her back to life.
“The other Rider, Jensen. She lives.”
“You are sure? Is she safe?” Nicola asked.
“Red-headed woman with fair skin and gray eyes. She’s as safe as any of us here.”
Over the past half-year Nicola’s hair had grown in, Dain noted, a dark shade of red.
“She thought you were dead all this time. She heard a young girl died just weeks after you all arrived. She gave up all hope until Dain had me ask around.”
Nicola reached for Dain’s hand and squeezed it. Her eyes were damp.
He wanted to ask Unsha if Jensen had any plans for escape, but hesitated. How far could they trust the Tyberon woman? Like them, Unsha was a prisoner; she might sell them out for a chance at escape.
Unsha must have sensed his reluctance. The stooped woman smiled.
“Jensen trusts me. She plans an escape.”
“Tell us how,” Dain said.
“I don’t know the details, but it involves the festival of Mantal.”
“What’s Mantal?”
“Mantal is the god of night. He takes the form of a tegu on the first full moon of summer.”
“What’s a tegu?”
Unsha furrowed her brow. “I don’t know your word for it. It is a great lizard, larger than a house, with thick brown scales from head to tail. They hunt the herds of bison at night and sleep during the day. All tribes fear them.”
Dain recalled the scaly tail he’d seen on the march here. The Tyberons truly had been frightened, then.
“How would the—” he began, but Unsha raised an open hand to stop him.
“I can speak no further, the guards will be looking for me. Tomorrow night we will speak again.”
The old woman shouldered her sloshing pots and faded into the night. Dain watched her lantern swing as she delivered food to the other prisoners.
“Jensen is your mother,” he said when they were alone. It wasn’t a question, and Nicola didn’t take it as one.
“Mother will get us out. She’ll have a plan.”
That night, the first in a long time, Nicola didn’t cry.
Unsha didn’t return.
Not the following day or the next. Taking Unsha’s place was a new woman, one far younger. Dain tried to talk to her, to feel her out and see if she could or would pass along a message to Unsha or Jensen, but this proved impossible. When he tried, she shook her head
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