Of Heroes and Happenings

Rowan, Chapter 5

Stepping through the iron hatch into the compartment, Rowan expected to see an open room with rows of benches set with chains. Instead, four cells were separated by iron bars that had been reinforced with multiple iron bands. Narrow alleys divided the cells from each other, preventing occupants from reaching each other.

Behind the first two cages of the brig, the alley jogged at an odd angle between the other pair of cells as one stretched wider than the other. In each of the first two cells hung six hammocks in two stacks of three. The third, largest cage held no less than nine, while in the last, smallest cage, a single hammock hung far above the floor and set so that the occupant might, if careful, see out of the compartment's lone porthole window.

Straw covered the deck of each cell, for both absorbing spilt liquids and for cushion. Each cell was solid on two sides and set with bars on the others. One barred side of each cell was set with a door, while the other side, set in the main aisle, was fitted with a small, sliding hatch that allowed guards to place food atop a lipped tray, and a second hatch adjacent to the solid wall, that would access a lidded pail clearly meant for waste.

Though the scent of sweat and waste hung in the air, it wasn't as heavy as Rowan had expected, telling her that the brig was cleaned and maintained regularly. It was far cleaner than the island's slave corridor. For the first time since her mother had hung the jade around Rowan's neck, Rowan felt a tiny bit of hope for her future dawn.

The two cells closest to the hatch seemed full of prisoners that clamored at the sight of Rowan and her guard. Hands reached out, grasping toward Rowan. She shrank in fear, but from behind her, her guard protected her, unexpectedly slapping at the threat.

"Leave off, you lot!" the dwarf growled, smacking at a few more appendages, "mind your manners!

The hope she felt only grew as the dwarf ushered Rowan into the single cell and locked it without bothering to chain her, as the others were. "You'll be safe here, Lass, with none to bother ye," offered the dwarf in that gravelly voice so common to his kind. "There be a pail fer yer slops, and we bring wash water every morn, separate from yer drinking pitcher."

Rowan was shocked by the luxury. "Thank you, Master Dwarf!" she blurted, then covered her mouth with a hand.

"Right," he drawled, seeming embarrassed, "be right back."

Rowan watched him retreat. When the hatch to the brig had shut, she touched a hole in the ragged garment that had once been her robe, hoping the magic within would mend it, the way it sometimes did if she concentrated. Nothing happened. Though she could feel a small reserve of the magic within her, it would not, seemingly could not, manifest.

Delighted, Rowan tried something a little more flamboyant, a motion guaranteed to result in an unwelcome result. Again, nothing happened. The magic remained but seemed contained within her.

A voice from the largest cell made Rowan jump. "Give it up, Mage," the voice advised. "Magic won't work if you're locked in these cells. See the symbols stamped into the bars?"

Rowan looked and finally did see a careful script she didn't recognize stamped into several of the bars. She nodded in answer.

"Those are sigils against magic. There's one on each side and in each corner. You won't be using magic here."

"I won't shoot fire if I sneeze? Or snore?"

"Ah, you're one of them." The voice held a faint sneer that warred with understanding. "No, Sorcerer, you've nothing to fear."

"I'm grateful," Rowan informed the unseen voice as she finally allowed herself to sink into the thick straw.

The dwarf returned presently, bearing a pitcher and a tin plate. "Oi!" the unseen voice demanded of him, "why does the halfling warrant a private cell while we're all forced to share?"