Raven's Will

37. Let's Talk, If You Would

It felt like a dungeon.

The room was small and dark and little more than a concrete box. There were two lanterns and a flashlight, so he had plenty of light, but the lanterns' flickering yellow flames only added to the eerie gloom of the room. There was a bed for sleeping and a table with two chairs for sitting. A tray with a bowl and spoon sat on the table. Beside it was a half-empty bottle of water. And in the corner, a bucket with a rough-hewn wooden lid served as a toilet.

It was enough to serve his most basic needs, but even Troit cells had better amenities provided to their prisoners. Jett knew this for a fact.

Perhaps the worst of it all was the solid metal door that was the only exit from this place. It was locked. He'd knocked on the door, then called out for anyone to respond, then had taken to trying to break out. Sadly, all the above had proven futile and he'd given up on escaping.

Now he sat at the table in sullen silence, head resting on folded arms. There was nothing he could do now but wait. And wonder - why am I here? Where is Raven? What happened?

His memory was foggy, so he remembered little past wandering the tunnels with Alainna. That seemed so long ago. It felt like he'd been here for days. Maybe even weeks. He'd eaten whatever grainy gruel had been left in the bowl, cold and tasteless as it was, and now he was hungry again.

He hoped they hadn't forgotten about him. Starving to death in a dungeon room didn't sound very appealing. And he very much wanted to demand why they had thought it to be a good idea to throw him in here in the first place.

A bone deep exhaustion numbed most of his ire. He'd spent a lot of time sleeping, yet it had done little to ease the weariness that had settled around him like a heavy cloak. He gazed blankly at the far wall, watching shadows dance across the concrete wall with unfocused eyes.

How long have I been here?

The sound of a deadbolt being pulled back came from the door. Jett started badly, heart leaping into his throat. He stared at the door with wide eyes even as the faintest of hope began to stir.

Raven?

The door creaked open with an awful groan and a man stepped through. It was not Raven. With a hand pressed flat against the door, the man pushed it shut. Almost immediately, the sound of a deadbolt being slid home came from the other side.

Jett frowned deeply at that, discontent rising. But before he could even start to question, the man turned and fixed him with a pair of sharp green eyes.

"Hello, little crow," the man spoke in an oddly lilting tone, though the movements of his lips were obscured by the strips of white cloth obscuring the majority of his face. His voice carried a slight rasp. "How does it go?"

Stunned, Jett found no words. He could only stare at the bandaged man who'd just intruded into his dark little prison. Seb, his mind eventually supplied the man's name. Raven had introduced him as his "eyes and ears".

The shape of Seb's eyes changed slightly, hinting at a smile. Somehow, he didn't seem as creepy as he had when they'd first met. Jett watched warily as the bandaged man gestured at the empty chair at the table.

"I am Seb, I'll admit. If you would permit, I would like to sit."

Jett eyed the man, wondering if he was partially crazy. Never in his life had he heard someone talk so strangely. He glanced at the door, wishing that it had remained unlocked. At least then he could have attempted to make a run for it. Surely a guy who dressed up like a mummy wouldn't be able to run very fast.