Two-Thirds Blue

Chapter Eight: Room Service

The meals were Cress Avan's favorite part of her lodgings.

She quickly found herself looking forward to the clanks and scrapes that heralded the arrival of her daily feast. She didn't even need to get up for it– the service was excellent. For at least a month now, she'd been fed every day, like clockwork, whether or not she did anything to request it. Free of charge.

She didn't actually recognize the meat on her tray, but it was quite alright. She could appreciate little adventures like that. Some days, it was even cooked. These days were celebratory occasions. On the other days, she found that the cold chunks of flesh went well between the scraps of bread that accompanied them. But she'd savor the blackened meat on its own, not wanting to mar the rare treat. The bread would be appreciated separately, and the few swallows of water made for a fine dessert. And of course, everything was presented in efficient, bite-size portions, perfect for a quick but enjoyable meal.

She had the entire room to herself, too. It was just the right size for a person of her stature. Long enough to lie down; tall enough to stand up. And of course, she had no roommates to bother her. No obligations, no responsibilities, no distractions– nothing but peaceful solitude and daily meals. She had all the time in the world.

Her only complaint was the occasional sound of screaming that permeated the granite walls. It was unnerving.

Granted, the screams weren't as common or regulated as her meals. They would only happen once every few days. During quieter times, she could almost forget what lay in store for her. But every time she heard the terrified howling and those desperate pleas, she would be reminded that she was herself a meal.

Well, she wasn't a meal yet, but she would be. Everyone here would be. She could sometimes hear the rozkod talking outside her cell, making threats and laughing at their captives' bargaining. She could hear them taunting the victims in their final moments as they were dragged from their cells to whatever monster the rozkod kept in their stronghold.

She often wondered which meal would be her last. Each time a tray was shoved through the hatch in her door, another thread of unknown quantity was severed, and she was one meal closer to her fate.

But the meals were her favorite part. So long as she ignored the screams, the knowledge of her looming death, and the fact that this tiny stone cell was utterly inescapable.

She was stirred from her usual torpor when she heard a number of rozkod guards escorting a captive into the cell adjacent to hers. She ignored the noises coming from her left and tried not to wonder how long this newcomer would last, instead resting her head on the wall beside her.

Several minutes later came a sound she hadn't heard in many weeks.

"Hey."

She jolted away from the wall and stared at it. She'd grown unused to polite greetings. Especially from walls.

"Is anyone there?" the voice continued. "The wall is cracked a bit. Thought you might be able to hear me."

The word yes nearly rolled off her tongue before she stopped herself. She didn't want to think about her neighbor, or his voice, for that matter. Forming attachments would destroy her. She wouldn't torment herself with a response.

"Talking to a wall, huh?"

Something in his voice weakened her resolve. It wasn't fear or anger. Just sadness. Resignation. Did he already know he was doomed?

Get it over with, she thought. "They're going to kill you eventually."

"Oh. Hello." The stranger paused. "You're awfully grim for a wall."