Jessa’s head throbbed in accusation that once again, she’d failed to anticipate the knockout blow. So much for plotting with Sarnd to execute a daring escape.
A low humming noise resonated throughout her body—probably an after-effect of being hit on the head. She could only hope she was still able to see and think. And run.
She opened her eyes. At least she could see, even if it was only a wall. An arm’s-length from her face, it failed to provide any clues about where the Enjeb had brought her this time. Grey or red stone, though in the low, flickering lamplight it was difficult to be certain. She was close enough to see individual pits and cut marks on its surface, so different from the smooth render typical of the houses in Naerun.
She sniffed. Definite notes of disuse and dustiness, mixed with rancid old sweat. She was inside a building, though the air in here was imbued with a deep chill.
She had always loathed being cold, and here she was colder than ever before. It was more than an absence of warmth, and it would sap her energy and her ability to think if she stayed here too long.
She could hear nothing at all, not even the tell-tale rustle of clothing or soft breathing that indicated anyone else was nearby. That did not mean the Enjeb had left her here alone.
She was lying on a heap of cloaks, or rags. They were probably the source of the horrible sweaty smell, and she tried not to think about what might be crawling around beneath her.
She focussed on breathing in and out in attempt to banish her pervasive headache. She needed to be ready for anything. Urzed would be nearby, biding his time until it suited him to appear.
Fleeing was not an option, even if she could find a way out. Her gut told her Sarnd was not far away, and Jessa could never abandon him. She forced herself to remain immobile, though she longed to get the blood flowing through her limbs before the chill invaded her bones.
Whatever the humming was, it reminded her of bees or wasps.
“Come to me.”
That sighing, whispering, pleading voice sounded nothing like Sarnd, and her anxiety about him redoubled. He might be badly injured and in need of help. If any of the Enjeb were here at all, they could all go jump into a Fissure; she was going to find her brother and give him whatever assistance she could, even if it meant she would run afoul of Urzed and his followers.
Jessa sat upright, and had to wait a few moments while the slight dizziness faded. Not completely, but to a tolerable level.
She was alone in the room. That was odd, she could have taken an oath that Sarnd was there, only a few paces away at the most. His cry for help must be an echo from somewhere else in this strange building. She knew she had to get to him immediately.
No windows were visible anywhere, and only more darkness and dim torchlight showed through the doorway to the room—her cell—so it was impossible to establish how much time had elapsed since their meeting with the councillors. How far away could the Enjeb have taken them this time? Even if Betharad and Kavilas were aware of what had happened in that shed, they might spend days searching. It was best not to plan on rescue arriving any time soon.
She climbed to her feet, pleased the buzzing in her head had no effect on her balance. The murmurs of her careful footsteps, the occasional scuff of her sandals as she moved over the uneven floor, were far too loud, but she reached the doorway without anyone coming to investigate.
Fissures! There, against the wall about ten paces to the right, slouched one of the Enjeb. The nearest torch was too far away to help her guess how much of a fight they might put up. The usual dirty cloak made it hard to determine if they were strong and muscled, or possibly a little overweight; probably the former, with the way her own fortunes had been turning out lately. Their face was turned down and away, so all she could see was fair hair that appeared to burn as it reflected the light of the guttering torch in a niche opposite. She estimated they were several hand spans taller than her, but she was used to standing up to people who towered over her.
Though the people she normally had to confront were never holding a sword the length of her own torso, and wearing a studded club hanging from their belt.
Jessa swallowed. Her usual approach of rushing in and going by instinct might not be the best idea. She had to take time to consider her options.
She could creep up behind them, and deliver a knock-out blow to the back of their head. At no time were they even bothering to look towards the doorway of her cell, and seemed oblivious to the fact that she was standing there. Some guard. It would be easy.
And yet, she had never delivered a knock-out blow to the back of anyone’s head in her life. She would probably miss whatever secret spot she needed to hit and end up annoying them instead. They would turn around and knock her out, then drag her back into her cell. And they’d make sure they were watching her if she ever plucked up the courage to try again.
Beyond the guard, the corridor turned sharply to the right, tantalising her by suggesting all sorts of unknown possibilities. There could be freedom that way. Or Urzed and the rest of his followers.
She looked in the opposite direction. The corridor ended in the tantalising darkness of another doorway. It might be a dead end, but it seemed like as good a place as any to start looking for her brother, or at least learn something about the layout of the building. Unless she tried she would never know.
It was only about twenty paces away. Although when she really thought about it, planned her movements in her head and tried to imagine what could go wrong, it was about nineteen paces too far. She would never make it all that way unnoticed, and she would end up with a sword in her back, or the thud of a club on her skull.
Getting out seemed beyond her own capabilities. Was she really going through with this?
Yes she was. Sarnd needed her.
She slipped her sandals off, hoping bare feet would be quieter, already cringing in anticipation of some sharp object on the floor driving itself into her sole when she stepped on it. Her life depended on being utterly silent, no more than a shadow herself. She took one pace, heart hammering so loud her guard must be able to hear it, then another, then—
The guard moved.
Jessa tried not to jump backwards, and put out an arm to steady herself against the nearest wall. She had been discovered before she could do anything.
Then, without so much as a glance in her direction, the Enjeb sauntered down the corridor and looked around the corner. They stayed there a few moments, then with a grunting sigh that was audible all the way down the corridor, they trudged back again.
They were going to come down and check on her. She dashed back to the pile of cloaks and lay down, doing her best to feign unconsciousness even as her heart thumped and her breathing refused to quieten down. Trying not to cough and sneeze as the stink of those unwashed cloaks stormed over her once more.
But no one came. Not even a single sound from the corridor to indicate anyone was interested in looking. After what seemed an eternity, but was probably only a few minutes, she got up and crept back to the doorway.
The guard was back at their post by the wall, looking down as they used a knife to clean their fingernails.
Why had Urzed assigned such a lazy, incompetent person to keep an eye on her? She wiped perspiration from her brow and relaxed a little.
Not too much; they were still going to see her if she went anywhere. And she knew Urzed would visit her before long.
It seemed too lucky to be real, but the guard soon grew bored of their manicuring and started to walk towards the bend again. This time, she was ready.
The moment they looked around the corner, she flitted across to the other doorway, sandals in hand and heart in her throat. She hardly made a sound. She slipped inside, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She was in another chamber, about the same size as the one she’d left. She was about to turn and try somewhere else when it struck her that a figure lay over by the far wall.
She crept closer, hoping it was Sarnd and not one of the Enjeb taking a nap. The shape resolved itself into someone of short stature, with dark hair. It was him! She crouched down and checked his pulse. He was alive. She let out her breath, relieved beyond measure. But he was unconscious, and in the darkness she saw an even darker mark on his forehead, which could have been blood.
Her mind raced. If she woke him up and he cried out, he would attract the attention of the Enjeb. If he was unable to walk, or needed to lean on her to do so, they would be too slow to escape. And if she was unable to wake him up at all... she refused to think about that.
The only practical option was to leave him here so she could go and find someone who could help them. That could take hours, possibly even days, depending on where they were. In that time her absence would be discovered, and the Enjeb would make sure Sarnd was well guarded to prevent him escaping or being rescued. Or—she swallowed—they might take out their frustration on her brother as he lay there, unknowing and defenceless.
All she could do was to stay with him, to protect him to the best of her abilities.
But she had no idea what Urzed wanted, no clue as to what would happen to them when he finally put in an appearance. Nothing good, she suspected. She had to choose between both of them remaining in this place of danger, or leave her brother to the mercies of the Enjeb. If they had any.
She wanted to beat her fists against the wall, both at her powerlessness, and her foolishness that had got them in this terrible plight in the first place.
But that would do nothing but hurt her hands and create unwanted noise. Her time for doing anything proactive was fast evaporating like a puddle of rainwater in the sun. She stood, turned and walked to the doorway, readying her muscles to flee, to run as fast as she could for as long as she could to find whatever help was nearest.
She stopped. The idea of leaving her brother alone and vulnerable was ripping her heart in two. She could not go through with it. She went back to him, resolved to wait beside him for whatever was to come, with as much patience as she could muster.
But that was far harder than she could bear. How could she just sit and do nothing at all to get them out of this? Help might be closer than she realised, and if she made no attempt to find it, she could be condemning both of them to a terrible fate. Her earlier assertions to Sarnd and Betharad that Urzed would do them no harm seemed delusional.
She jumped to her feet and moved towards the door again.
I’ll be back, Sarnd, I promise...
And there, at last, filling the doorway, was Urzed. He watched her with a half-smile, his clear eyes studying her as a source of his own inscrutable amusement.
In his hand was a knife.
Her time and her luck had run out.