Soulwoven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

~28~

Skitter.

Chirp.

Snuffle.

Skritch.

Leramis Hentworth listened to the sounds of two rats through the wooden wall to his left.

“Eating well today, are we?” he murmured.

The dank, musty smell of wet stone filled his nostrils. The ceiling above him dripped slimy water into puddles on the floor. A tallow lamp over his head lit the dingy corners of his small cell. A wooden door across from him stood closed and barred.

Two days.

The Aleani had kept him locked up for two days.

No one had spoken to him since his initial interrogation. He’d had only the rats for company.

If only I had been a little faster.

He’d been late in arriving to Du Hardt—had caught just the dying whispers of Ryse’s eddy in the River as she’d disappeared underground. And the collapse in the tunnels had cut him off from the prince and his party before he’d been able to make himself known.

He was glad they’d survived the mountains without his help.

Ryse is alive.

The thought brought a smile to his face.

Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside of his cell. A gruff voice spoke in Aleani. The lock on the door rattled and turned.

Leramis turned his eyes upward to watch it.

The door creaked open. His neighbors through the wall stopped their snuffling. A halberd-bearing Aleani in a half helmet eased himself into the dimness of the cell.

A dark-skinned young man with a scab across the bridge of his nose followed.

The young man wore long gloves, fine trousers, and a rich, silver-lined black doublet. He was short, but he walked like a tall man. His eyes were brown and sharp.

Leramis had been waiting for him for two days.

The door creaked shut. The rats began to scritch and scratch again.

“Prince Quay,” Leramis said. He slipped his hands inside his sleeves. “What can I do for you?”

The prince shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His doublet bunched and folded as he crossed his arms. His companion fidgeted.

For a moment, Quay remained silent. One of the rats next door hissed at the other. A draft blew across the floor and rippled the puddles.

“Tell me why you’re here,” the prince said at last.

Leramis licked his lips and spread his hands. “Have the Aleani shared what I told them, or—”

“Tell us where D’Orin Threi is,” the guardsman growled. His eyes flashed.

The prince glanced briefly at his companion. His hands tightened on his arms.

But he made no move to overrule the question.

“Ah,” Leramis said. Quay’s motions did not escape him. Neither did the import of the Aleani’s words. Leramis was not Rhan the Eye, but neither was he blind. “I’m afraid I do not know, Fenuani Heramsun.”

“Do not play games with me, boy,” the guardsman said. He leveled his halberd at Leramis’s chest. “And do not speak that name again, if you value your tongue.”