Tess strained against the bonds that held her, but only succeeded in rubbing more flesh off raw wrists. She felt rivulets of warm blood slide down the back of her hands and drip onto the dirt floor.
"Drane's teeth," she muttered.
"Don't swear," her sister whispered.
"You think the gods are paying any attention to us down in this hellhole?" Tess demanded.
Her sister just looked at her silently.
Tess subsided, muttering under her breath softly enough so her sister couldn't hear. She twisted, digging her heels into the floor and managed, finally, to push her buttocks through her bound arms. Grimacing, she thrashed about until she was able to draw her legs through and lay, panting, her cheek digging into the dirt and pebbles, but with her arms in front of her instead of behind. She had tried that maneuver uncountable times in the twenty-four hours since they had been captured--either a day's worth of starvation had lost her enough weight to manage it, or desperation had managed to overcome the growing stiffness in her limbs. Or maybe Drane had decided to punish her for blaspheming with his name by adding the exquisite pain of nearly dislocated shoulders to the already considerable tally of bruises, bumps, blood, and hunger she had accumulated. Whatever.
She lay there and gradually caught her breath, grimly ignoring the waves of pain. Not too bad. No worse than the time Master Broda had decided to take her arrogance down a peg and given her his personal attention for a full hour of sword work, back when she was a pup in training. Or the time ... no, she wasn't going to remember that. Think of Master Broda, she thought to herself. Those were happy times, for all she had complained about him and the hours of weapons cleaning, footwork practice, stomach exercises, and all the other things she and her fellow trainees had felt were sadistic excuses to make them suffer. Lying on the floor of her cell, Tess smiled, thinking that the times she had had cause to thank Broda and his rigorous training must, by now, outweigh her adolescent complaints two to one. Even the excruciating maneuver she'd just completed had been learned at Master Broda's feet, amidst a rain of pointed, sarcastic comments and the thrashing of twenty similarly bound trainees. Thank you again, Tess thought silently.
Where before, they had no chance, now she thought they might at least have a slim one. With her arms in front of her, she might be able to untie the ropes that bound her feet or strangle the guard when he came into the cell or ... or staunch the slow but steady flow of blood that was draining the life out of her sister.
She thrust her nearly numb hands into the dirt and levered herself up into a sitting position. Then she hunched her way over on her butt to where Sasha lay. Her sister's eyelids flickered and opened in the dim light filtering down from the barred hole high up on the wall. She smiled at Tess weakly.
"I'm glad we've had these last few weeks together," she said faintly. "Growing up, we were always together. I've missed that, first training in separate ways, then all the years of assignments in opposite ends of the kingdom. At least we got one mission together, for all it's ended like this."
"Don't speak like that," Tess said curtly. "We'll have lots of time together. All we have to do is get out of this blasted dungeon."
A sudden clang and the sound of footsteps on stone made her freeze. The sisters looked at each other in silent fear. They began to breathe again when the footsteps passed the cell door. Tess began to work on the knots on her ankles a little more vigorously.
"How long before they begin to torture us?" Tess wondered out loud.
"I don't like it that they haven't even questioned us," Sasha said.
"What do you mean?" Tess had been glad of the reprieve. Her biggest worry was wondering how badly Sasha was hurt, and what would happen to her if Korl's torturers so much as moved her.
"It's as if they've already made up their minds about us," Sasha replied.
"Uhhh." Tess thought about that. She didn't like the sound of it either. "Maybe they're just too busy," she said with false, automatic optimism. Sasha just gave her a look.
Daylight faded into night, and still no one came to their cell. Tess managed to free her feet and hobbled stiffly over to the corner where she spied what looked like a water jug. She bent and sniffed. Smelled all right. She managed to grab the lip of it with her still bound hands. She dragged it over to Sasha.
"Here," she said, tipping it enough so some ran onto her hands. "This smells like water."
Cautiously, Sasha licked some off Tess' hands. "Even fairly fresh," she confirmed. "I wish I could use my Power to make sure there's no sleeping potion or other drugs in it. But there's no bitter taste. It should be safe."
)
