Voiceless

Three years before…

A young girl is led into a large stone chamber. Her hands are chained together in front of her. Her face is pale but resolute and she waits calmly for the jailer to remove the cuffs on her slim wrists. When they are removed she rubs them. The cuffs were on so tight that her wrists are all black and blue, and the man winces and looking at her pityingly. She looks away and doesn’t acknowledge it, though she pulls the too short sleeves of her gown down to cover the bruises. The guards file out except for the jailer who is now rummaging through some simple necessities in one of the many alcoves along the wall, making sure the girl has all she needs. He finishes and walks over to her.

“Is there anything you need in particular for you’re um…err… stay?” He finishes weakly. She stared at him for a moment than regally lifted her chin pointing at his keys.

He reddened a bit and said, “I’m afraid I can’t give you those. And I prefer to be addressed with words not gestures missy.” He said suddenly trying to treat her the way he did the rest his prisoners.

She stared at him for a moment with big, sad, sea green eyes and a hopeless look flashed across her features. She put a hand to her throat and shook her head. The jailer flushed again.

“Oh. You can’t talk, can you?” he said feeling terrible. She shook her head and her hand dropped to her side her features like marble again. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know miss.” He apologized sincerely. She turned away and glanced around her prison. She shivered wrapping her hands around her arms, head bent and shoulders rounded in defeat.

He felt so bad just then he forgot she was a prisoner and said, “I can get you a shawl. And some material to make a different dress with, and… and some paper and charcoal!” he said getting a bit carried away.

She turned toward him and made a valiant effort to smile. It came out more like an attempt to hold back tears as she nodded gratefully at him.

“Dan! We have to get to the walls, could you hurry up?” The jailer, Dan, grimaced and hurried to the door closing the three inch thick steel and iron door and sliding home the various bolts and mechanisms. He winced at how cruel and final the clicks sounded.

The girl watched him go then turned away looking about the dusty prison desolately. It looked like no one had been in here for years. She walked to the window at the far end of the room and looked out. There was little to see, just an abandoned market square with no sound but that of the white petals of an Apple Wood tree blowing along the deserted cobbles.

Silence and abandonment, both within and without.

The breeze reached the window and she closed her eyes to hold back tears. The wind washed over her cooling the two glistening hot diamonds that slid down her face. She will remain here in this musty room with nothing but silence for company, the guards that guard her, and the occasional visit from her worst enemy for the next three years.

Chapter 1

“So this is why they call him the Weasel.” thought Jasper Holt. He was being marched between six guards down a long and elegant great hall that was now used as a dungeon in the old part of the castle. The grand room they were walking in was high above the ground suspended in space arching between two stately towers, and would once have been used for summer balls. Now it was used a prison. There were bars over the high airy openings and the townspeople below would have been told it was to keep out brigands and thieves.

It was actually to keep brigands and thieves in. The huge place held well over two hundred rooms and half of those had been converted to hold criminals of every sort: the highest to the lowest. But most of those a hundred rooms/cells had been on the lower floors. The one he was headed for was halfway up the second tallest tower in the building. Holt would have felt honored… except that at least on the lower floors you had a chance to tunnel out. Up here climbing would be the only way out and he’d seen the outside of this tower. It was so smooth you might as well just dig your own grave and crawl into it. Terribly impolite of them not to even give him a sporting chance to escape.

They entered the tower at the far end of the Great Summer Hall and they entered a hallway that went round in a circle. In the center of this architectural ring was round cylinder made of stone that disappeared into the ceiling. They walked down the left hand side of this cylinder stopping at a lone door placed in it. This was it. This was his last chance.

“Look here fellows, I really haven’t done anything to deserve this and I think maybe we could come to some sort of agreement…” he trailed off as no one paid attention to this speech and the head guard mercilessly unlocked the door that had no key instead some sort of a complicated looking mechanism which gave a rusty creak as it opened. There was a small barred window in it through which Holt could see a vast stone chamber.

Then the door creaked open and they thrust him in. He turned as the door was pushed shut groaning heavily and clanging against the frame with a very ominous and very final sounding bong. He looked through the bars at the silent blank faced guard.

He decided to make one last attempt at bargaining, “Please sir I’m sure we could come to some sort of understanding. You’re a man of intelligence. (Holt actually thought the man was denser than a fence post, but he was willing to not call him what he was if it got him out of the slammer.) I’m sure you’d like to make a little profit for yourself. I happen to know the way into the castles secret vaults-” he stopped because the guard had slipped his sword through the bars and it was resting uncomfortably close to Jasper’s left eye.

The man leaned forward, “You’d do well to keep your mouth closed and your opinions to yourself, kid. Clear?”

“Crystal.” Jasper answered his eye fixed on the blade. The man withdrew the sword barked an order and they all marched away. Holt looked down and sighed at the nearly useless keys he’d pinched off the guard as he stumbled once on the long walk here. Hardly worth the trouble as the door didn’t open with keys. However he snapped open the cuffs and then stuffed the keys through the bars on the window.

Maybe the guard would think he’d dropped them. Though that was doubtful when they were lying outside the prison door of the thief who’d broken into the king’s secret vaults and nearly gotten away with it. He put the chains in his pocket though… they might be useful later.

He began walking around the room. It was an odd one. Even though he knew it had been converted to a prison cell he couldn’t guess what it might have been before. There were wide arched alcoves all around the room one right after the next. The arches went right up to the vaulted ceiling growing narrower, and narrower, and curving decoratively overhead. He counted eighteen smaller ones and one larger one at the far end of the room directly across from the door.

It was sunk further into the wall and this one had a barred window in it. The cylindrical room must connect with the outer wall somehow. He immediately walked over and tested them. They were rock solid and when he looked out the window the effect was dizzying. All that was there was an empty street with a bare Apple Wood tree which creaked and moaned as a chill autumn wind whistled through its stiff branches.

“How cheery.” thought Jasper with gloomy sarcasm. He turned a surveyed the rest of the room. All the other alcoves except two had bars which slid out of ceiling and rested in opening in the floor where they undoubtedly were locked even more. Four massive stone pillars held up the ceiling, and in the very center of the room a huge rectangular stone table rested. It was carved with strange curling animals and had odd words written in some other language on its sides.

On either end of this table two smaller octagon shaped tables stood. No, not tables he realized: fire braziers. He walked over thing they might be useful for an escape. No such luck. The bowls had been removed and they were cover with iron bars instead. The place for the fires were sank down into the floors like wells and he could see the door for feeding them was closed and most likely locked from outside. Cripes! Did they have to bolt everything?

“It wouldn’t do you much good anyway. You’d never get out of those fires unscathed and anyway the doors are probably too small to fit through.” His logical mind informed him. “Ah yes. My position is looking brighter all the time.” He thought back at this pessimistic logic sarcastically. Then he realized he was having a conversation with himself. “Already having a conversation with yourself and you’ve barely been in here five minutes. I predict being moved to the madhouse before the week is out. You’re still talking to yourself. You know that don’t you?”

Aggravated he turned and walked one of the open alcoves on the right. In it he found a cot and a chamber pot. Glancing suspiciously at the raised bars which yawned like a bear trap. He decided he wouldn’t go in.

He slowly began walking around the circular room peering into the barred rooms which contained the same thing the opened one did: a bed and a chamber pot. He tried to guess what the room had been again and decided maybe it was crypt. Not at all cheering but maybe that was what the table was. Or rather wasn’t. Maybe it was a mausoleum and contained the bones of somebody important from long ago. “Or maybe this rooms last occupant.”

He swallowed and continued walking. He passed the door and the empty hallway outside. As he walked he realized the room was more oval than circular but as this presented no assets to him he dismissed it. Next to the door a strange spigot looking thing poked out of the wall and seemed very out of place in the cavernous room. He reached out and twisted the lever then jumped back as water began splattering out of it. He felt stupid and quickly twisted it off. This must somehow connect to Marranan’s (pronounced Mare-Ran-nan) main source of power in a siege. The old castle had been built around this source and a huge tower protected it from its enemies.

The source was water. A huge natural spring which had never stopped producing. This would have been a big deal anyway with Marranan’s neighboring kingdoms eyes fixed greedily on the fertile little kingdom of Marranan, but when the neighboring kingdoms all were desert-like and had few natural water sources Marranan suddenly became better then gold. If all the kingdoms outside Marranan had banded together and launched an attack on the miniature kingdom, eventually they might have succeeded.

Fortunately for the kingdom of Marranan its neighbors were an untrustworthy, greedy, backstabbing lot who didn’t want to share with each other, and were always trying to invade each other anyway. So as long as this continued Marranan had nothing to worry about.

Not to say Marranan hadn’t been invaded before. It had. It just never fell. When you’re the only source of water and you can keep that source locked up and safe from your enemies, eventually they have to find water or die. So Marranan had never lost a fight defending their lively hood. They made negotiations with their dehydrated neighbors and sold them all the water they needed… as long as they paid the right money.

Jasper continued on looking into the nearly identical rooms on the other side of the chamber. There were nine rooms/alcoves on either side of the chamber and of course the last nineteenth which stood across from the door. The four pillars were stationed around the rectangular table in the middle rising endlessly into the gloom, the muted glow of the two braziers barely lighting the gloomy tomb of a room.

The window helped little because of the dark storm clouds that had rolled in. It was probably going storm soon. That would be unpleasant. The wet would get in and cover the cold stone floor making it colder, and when the weather cooled down even more he’d probably be waking up to an ice covered floor. If he didn’t have a bad case of the Damp’s before a month ended it’d be a miracle. Not to mention how this room would probably echo the booms and crashes of the storm. Hopefully it didn’t get to violent and shake the whole thing down. Though with the way his luck had been going lately it’d probably all come down except for the spot he happened to be standing on and he’d still be a prisoner. Or the roof would just happen to cave in on him and him only.

Unable decide which was the worse alternative Jasper arrived at the other open alcove and froze gaping. He hadn’t realized someone else was in here. They’d told him he’d have a roommate but since it was so quiet in this mausoleum-converted-prison he’d assumed they were moving one from another cell to this one.

Years later Jasper reflected he must have looked quite comical as he stood there mouth ajar, eyes popping out of his head, staring at the other prisoner as if he’d never seen another human being before. He just couldn’t believe the sight that met his eyes.

A girl with curling black hair was curled up on her side, back to the wall sleeping peacefully. She wore a dark green-black wide-necked top that had hints of gold when the light hit it right and the sleeves that came to a little above her elbows. Her dark garnet colored skirt came to mid-calf and had was made very full so she could run if she had to, and she had a sturdy pair of boots that disappeared under her skirt as well.

But these were secondary things Jasper saw only later because the girl was really pretty. No, ‘really pretty’ didn’t do her justice. Jasper had never encountered anyone who he would call beautiful before except from a great distance (and usually far above his station in life) but in that moment he stood less the two yards from the absolute most captivating person he’d ever seen or could hope to see.

This was the other prisoner?! Instantly guilt crashed down on him and he wished that he’d never agreed to this. This was going to be more than difficult; it was going to be impossible.

He suddenly realized his mouth was hanging open and he was staring at a female while she was sleeping. He quickly turned away and started walking towards the center of the room, troubled that someone could turn his head and distract him so fast. Not to mention embarrassed he had been gaping like a fish at some girl who was asleep.

“And if you were a girl, you’d probably be humiliated to find out some bloke had been staring at you while you were asleep. And extremely disturbed!” He thought ashamedly. “Well it’s hardly my fault! (he defended himself mentally) How was I to know they were going to ambush me with a Queen Anastasia the Beautiful instead of a gang member?” He knew that was a poor excuse and told himself to shut up.

He couldn’t help another glance over his shoulder at her as he walked hurriedly away, (he told himself he was just making sure she was actually breathing) and as she appeared to be perfectly alive he kept walking. He reached the table and decided to investigate it; these old palaces were notorious for secret passages. And… ok he wanted to make sure it wasn’t the final resting place of the deceased. If it turned out it was though that wasn’t going to put him at ease. Sleeping in place that housed a sepulcher didn’t appeal to Holt much.

Kneeling down to examine it Holt was struck at how precise and detailed the carvings were. The table was about nine feet long and four feet wide. The corners were sharply cut and the table was not made of the same stone as the rest of the room. It was a darker color very smooth.

He explored the top first and came to the conclusion it was not a lid of any sort after pushing at it trying to lift it. He inspected the base next and saw nothing alluding to it being some sort of way out. He tried shoving it but it didn’t move in the slightest so he deducted either it was not meant to be moved, or it was held in place by something a lot stronger then he was. Or the thing was solid all the way through and he was unable to move its sheer weight. Which meant it was not, a mausoleum. Well that was a relief.

He tried to find some sort of pattern in the twisting animals and the intertwining letters but if there wasn’t one he could pick out by sight. Holt was interested to find that there were magical creatures along with normal ones as well. There was dragon, a griffin, and a phoenix. The normal animals included a lion, an eagle, and a wolf. There were many other creatures both magical and un-magical.

He glanced in the girl’s direction several times and finally got very annoyed with himself and concentrated on not looking at her, which was hard to do and still study the carvings. After about twenty minutes he had found nothing except for some chains which had been attached to one side of the table. That disturbed him. Maybe this thing wasn’t a table, a mausoleum, or a secret way out. Maybe it had been used for human sacrifice. He felt a little sick before he saw that the chains were quite new compared to the rest of the things in the room. They must be for prisoners. “Or to hold prisoners while they’re tortured.” He thought darkly.

On further reflection he thought no, probably not. The girl’s alcove was the only one that had been used for what looked like a long time and she looked to be alright. Too thin, (probably from low rations) but not abused. In fact she looked remarkably well for a prisoner who was locked up in the most secure dungeon in Marranan. He was looking at her. Again. He forced his head to turn away.

He stood and stepped back to survey the stone from a distance and suddenly a slight sound caught his attention. He glanced in the girls direction and saw she’d woken up, and at the same moment he realized he could see her but she couldn’t see him because when he’d stepped back behind a pillar which hid him from her.

She stood silently bringing her shawl with her and pulling it on as she walked to the barred window. The wind had kicked up since he’d last looked out and she caught her breath as it rushed through the window tugging at her hair and clothes. A blast of lightening suddenly lit the sky and turned everything a ghostly gray white for a moment before leaving him blinking in inky darkness while his eyes readjusted.

When he could see again he saw the girl had spun around and was staring at him in horrified terror. He suddenly realized his position in her eyes was not a pleasant one. She had not seen him when she awoke, he was a male, and he was blocking the only exit. Put that all together and what does any sensible female get? Scared.

Her eyes darted between him and the door and she clutched at her shawl with trembling fingers. She didn’t cry out though, so she must have had remarkable self-control. “Or she’s just so scared she’s lost her voice.” His mind said cynically. He decided to try talking to her.

“Madam I assure you there’s no need for alarm.” Holt said holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. She looked like she very much wanted to scream but couldn’t, so he continued calmingly, “I won’t hurt you, I promise. (He felt guilty at that. He knew that before this was over she’d hate him) I’m a prisoner here too now.” She looked a little interested at that and encouraged he took a step forward and started to say, “I’m Jasper-" The girls mouth opened when he took the step and she darted sideways and flew past him to the door where she started pounding on the iron as hard as she could.

But the weird part was this: she hadn’t screamed. Even now she appeared to be screaming bloody murder but no sound other than her hands beating the door in a flurried panic. Not even a squeak.

It hit Holt like a bucket of ice water, “She’s a mute. No wonder she’s so scared!” He watched helplessly as she beat on the door.

A man came thundering up to the door and reached through the bars and grasping one of her small hands in his own massive one. She grasped it gasping, shoulders heaving and eyes wide with fright, “Shh Capriana shh. It’s alright, Old Dan’s here now. What’s the matter-” The man’s eyes fell on Holt.

“You. If you touched her I swear…” He trailed off as she touched his hand and shook her head.

“He didn’t hurt you?” the big man growled. She shook her head. “Didn’t even touch you?” He asked. She shook her head again.

“Blast it girl, what are ya carry ‘in on for? I about had a heart attack running to you! Did he threaten you in any way? ‘Cause if he did I’ll make sure he pays for it. By Marranan’s water mines I will!” He glared at Holt.

She shook her head again but shrank against the door as if to get as far from Holt as she could. ‘Old Dan’ (as Holt guessed he was called) sighed and unbolted the door, calling a guard as he did. Stepping in he closed it firmly behind him and the guards face appeared and stood waiting for trouble. The girl stood close to him as he entered with the trust of a daughter to her father.

The older man’s stiff features grew a bit softer and he held out an arm to her. “Did he frighten you? Well I’ll make sure he doesn’t do it again lassie.” He said gently. Then he turned to Holt like a bull ready to charge.

“So the king put you in here eh you mongrel? Well you listen to me. Caprianna is under my care and protection here and you lay a finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do. Clear?”

Holt didn’t think it was fair for the man to threaten him without even hearing his side of things first, but Holt knew what it looked like. A young, pretty, but mute female scared out of her wits, and cowering from the only person in the room who happened to be male criminal.

So he nodded at the big man and said, “Yes sir. Understood.”

The man didn’t look in the least convinced as he turned to the petite black-haired girl. “Now you take this,” he said drawing something out of his pocket and handing it to her, “and blow it if you need help. Even you can do that.” He added softly. The girl held up a whistle on a chain.

Holt groaned inwardly. She was so flighty she’d probably get him killed before midday tomorrow. Death by meaty-handed Dan. Great.

She looked up at Dan and tears came to her green eyes. She gave him a quick hug and stepped back quickly wiping away tears as she slipped the chain over her head. He nodded a bit misty eyed himself and then turned back to Holt.

“I understand you’ll be here a while.” Dan said distastefully looking Holt over. “And as such I expect you to treat Maid Caprianna like the lady she is. Only the highest respect to her will satisfy me. I find she’s been mistreated I’ll have you drawn and quartered.”

Holt gritted his teeth and nodded feeling a heat rise to his face. As if he’d bother her like that! He nodded so as to keep from sounding rude by speaking. The man glared at him for a moment then relented a bit. “Hand that bag here.” Said to the guard outside the door. The man opened the door from the outside and handed it to Dan.

Dan tossed it to Holt who caught it deftly. “You’ll need that. And here’s yours Cap. He said handing an identical bag to her. She took it and sat straight down on the floor excitedly. Her shining enthusiasm and look of appreciation to Dan was obviously all he needed. His weathered face broke into a sad smile, but a smile nothing less as she began pulling what were obviously treasures to her. It wasn’t much, just some tins of dried meat and vegetables, some long lasting biscuits and (and this item obviously pleased her a lot) a tin of tea. Each item was carefully slid into one of her pockets except for the biscuit tin which was too large. Then last of all she pulled out a box of pencils and some paper. She looked up at Dan with gorgeous, overjoyed smile on her lips that took Holt’s breath away.

The moment was broken suddenly, because a series of coughs racked her lithe frame, and she bent over shoulders jerking with the ominous hacking. Dan knelt beside her as she rocked back and forth waiting for the bout to pass. She finished and Dan gave her a fresh handkerchief hers being covered with something red sticky looking. She quickly crumpled it up before Dan saw it and slid it into another pocket (which she seemed to have hundreds of).

Uh oh. She was sick. And this wasn’t just any sickness. This was Bloodcough.

The name described its outward effects perfectly but it said nothing about the havoc it wreaked on the inside. A rare and un-contagious disease, contracted by spending too much time in cold, damp places and allowing any small colds to go unattended.

The victim would weaken, and if not removed from the moist environment immediately, the sickness could gather in the chest, breed, and become infected. It started at as a small cough and didn’t seem like any concern but as the lungs became coated with the damaging and acidic mucus, it then became a fungus which ate away the lung tissue. That in turn bled into the lungs and began to drown the victim, who began coughing it up so as to breath better.

By the time they were coughing blood up they had about a seventy percent chance of survival if it were treated right and they were moved somewhere very dry. But this girl obviously had had it awhile now. The longer it went the less chance you had. She was in trouble. Holt estimated maybe a fifty/fifty chance now.

Dan looked concernedly at her, “You need to see a doctor Cap. I wish there was some way…” he sighed. She put a comforting hand on his arm and smiled shaking her head.

“I know, I know. You’re not worried. Well I hope it doesn’t turn into Bloodcough.” He said. Her smile disappeared and she gravely nodded, as if agreeing with him. Holt barely managed to keep from shouting out that she did have Bloodcough.

“Well I have to get back to my duty. You sleep well alright? I’ll close the bars so you won’t have anything to worry about.” Dan gave Holt another glare. Holt tried hard not glare back.

A boom of thunder interrupted them and they watched the lightening that followed crackle across the sky. They all glance at each other and Dan said, “Well we’re in for one tonight. Not many will sleep through this one. I hope it doesn’t leak too much on you.” He said looking at ‘Cap’. “It won’t do that cough of yours any good. Well goodnight. Whistle if you need me.” He said and left locking the door behind him.

The girl gathered up her things and warily edged past him clutching the whistle at her throat like a protective talisman. Once she was past she scurried to her alcove and began arranging things as best to keep them dry. Holt decided to do the same and that his best course of action would be to pretend she wasn’t there so he wouldn’t scare her again.

So he walked over to his side of the room and she watched him carefully, like one would a snake. He began moving stuff around in his alcove and finding where what fit best and trying to avoid even turning in her direction. He could feel her eyes following his every move and this made him uncomfortable and ill at ease. He finally could stand it no longer and risked a glance at her.

She was standing by one of the fire columns heating a cup of water. He startled visibly and looked from her to the water spigot in the corner and back to the cup in her hands. How had she done that? Holt hadn’t heard a sound and yet she’d obviously gone from one end of the room to the other and back.

The girl (Cap) was studiously avoiding looking at him in general but she watched him out of her peripheral vision distrustfully. She finished heating the water and dropped some tea leaves in and retreated to her alcove quickly.

She sat there sipping at it, shawl pulled tight against the chill as the thunder crash outside, lightning occasionally lighting the room starkly. She stared at the window an intense look in those creepy green eyes of hers. They seemed to glow eerily as if the lightening was charging them, and she almost seemed to be enjoying the tempest outside. Wide eyed and fearless she listened to the explosions that shook the building to its very core. It disturbed him and he finally lay down to try to sleep.

He started up once when the metal grill slid out of the ceiling and clanged into the floor, and the girl startled a bit too but then went back to watching the storm. He lay back down but still couldn’t sleep with that restless catlike person still awake. She was weird, and a little scary. He couldn’t sleep for a long, long time.

Chapter 2

Jasper woke to the sound of running water. He sat up quickly momentarily having forgotten where he was. He looked wildly around the room before it all rushed back and he flopped back on the bed weary, and disgusted. Ow. There was very little padding between his back and the floor.

The water went off and he raised his head a little to see the girl at the water spigot drying her hands on a rag and watching him closely. A gray light filtered duskily through the barred window that overlooked the deserted street and he divined it was still raining. What a marvelous morning.

Nice cozy jail cell, mute girl who was scared stiff of him and a hulking jailer for company, and canned rations. What a joyful start to the prison life.

“Well it’s your own fault you decided to break into the best secured place in Marranan. That’s what landed you here, and it’s time to face the music and do your time. Look on the bright side. If you don’t you’ll go bonkers. The prison does have heat so that’s one good point. Your fellow prisoner isn’t a dangerous bloodthirsty criminal. You’re out of the rain and you have food. There, see? Lots of good points.”

Holt gave a snort as he sat up again and pulled his boots on. The girl had moved to the big table silently (as usual) putting some meat and dried vegetables into a small pot full of water. She added some sort of powder to it and walked to one of the fire columns, setting it down in the very center of the metal grill. Clearly making soup. Then she went and picked up a broom from one corner and began methodically sweeping the floor.

Occasionally she coughed while she worked but she paid it no mind, and avoided Jasper’s side of the room like it was a pit full of snakes. He paid her an equal amount of inattention and though both went about their business painstakingly pretending the other wasn’t there, they both snuck glances at each other occasionally, and turned away self-consciously when the other caught them at it.

Jasper ate some dried biscuits and drank water for breakfast sitting on his bed, staring gloomily at the floor as the rain trickled down the sides of the window and formed a puddle on the floor. The girl swept as close as she dared (twenty feet) to his side of the room and it was clear she wanted to sweep where he was but dared not get any closer. Jasper sighed and stood which made her scurry back clutching the whistle with one hand.

He raised his hands, “I’m not going to hurt you. I’m moving out of the way so you can sweep right here since you obviously don’t trust me not to pounce on you, even though I’ve sworn not to touch you.” He said a bit irritated.

She cocked her head at him and for the first time looked him up and down without the revulsion of someone who’s just caught site of snake. He slowly moved along the wall, facing her and she did the same, clutching the broom like a weapon with one hand and the whistle in the other. Jasper was struck by how funny this scene might look to an outside observer but he didn’t feel much like laughing. It was aggravating to be treated like this.

“Well maybe so but at least you don’t feel physically threatened by your fellow prisoner. She fears you for your gender. Before yesterday she might have been imprisoned but she didn’t feel menaced.” He thought grudgingly, not liking to see it from her point of view but knowing he had to factor it in before he could get mad at her.

He reached the other side of the room and she set about her sweeping, not turning her back on him for an instant. After a few minutes she swept the floor clean and deposited the dust on a sheet of paper with the other dirt she had accumulated. Carefully she picked it up and walked to the fire pit slowly to avoid dropping any dust. With a practiced hand she curled up the sides of the paper and deftly rolled it into a funnel, before with a smooth motion, she tipped it upside down and let the dust fall into the fire below. Jasper almost laughed at this interesting way of disposing of the dust.

She glanced up at him quickly and he gave her a smile. “That’s clever.” He said gesturing at the fire pit. She frowned back at him but flushed a little. She started edging back to her side of the room and he took the point and moved back to his.

She went to check on the stew lifting a thin metal plate she’d set on top for a lid. A delicious smell blew towards Jasper and his stomach promptly growled. She glanced in his direction an amused half grin making her look almost like a normal village girl. Jasper scowled back at her and her smile vanished as she ducked her head. She tasted it with a spoon and Jasper’s stomach growled again.

She paused setting the spoon down and looking at him. Then she pulled a folded up piece of paper from a pocket and scribbled something down. She looked at him held up the paper and walked gingerly towards him, laying it down about twenty feet in front of him and quickly retreated back to the fire pit.

He looked her then at the paper, then back at her suspiciously. Was she baiting a trap for him? Hoping he would come for the paper so she could whistle and that massive jailer friend of hers would come running to pound Jasper into the floor? Well he wasn’t going to pick it up, thank you very much. He looked at her narrowly crossing his arms and settled back against the wall. Two could play the I-don’t-trust-you game.

She watched him for a moment then shrugged, scooped up the soup with a rag, and walked off to her side of the room. Jasper watched the soup go wistfully and then pulled at string on his shirt, wondering why he hadn’t gotten a pot or a spoon. Just one measly plate and a cup.

The girl paid him no mind and finished hers up quickly. She set the dishes aside and pulled something out of a brown burlap bag. It fell into her lap with a shimmer of white. He caught his breath, it was a dress. A half-finished dress anyway, as the top part was not connected to the bottom yet. She stood and walked to the table in the center laying it out on the flat surface. She pulled yet another piece of paper from her pocket and it unfolded with the ease of many folding’s and un-folding’s. She studied it seemingly completely absorbed, but her slightly tense shoulders showed she’d not forgotten he was there. Then she pulled out a spool of thread and a needle and went to work piecing it together.

She eventually grew tired of standing and after a moments consideration and a look in his low-spirited direction she climbed on top the table and sat cross-legged carefully pulling the needle in and out. She stayed that way all rest of the morning and into the afternoon, before the thunder clouds rolled in making it difficult to see. She set her work down and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Her coughing made the work more difficult and she’d had to stop several times, turning away from the dress and holding a handkerchief to her mouth.

It started up again now and unable to stand the silence second Jasper broke out, “Why don’t you tell him?” She startled so badly she nearly dropped her shawl. He hadn’t meant to do that but he ignored it and continued. “Dan said he didn’t want it to turn into Bloodcough, and you nodded, but you know that you have it already. Don’t you?”

She didn’t answer of course, just stared at him. That didn’t matter though, he didn’t expect an answer. “You’ve got it bad too.” He said. “I don’t know if a doctor could help you now, but at least you could ask Dan if you could see one. I doubt that the king wants you dead since he hasn’t already killed you. Surely he’ll let you see one, if only to keep you alive…”

It hit him like a ton of bricks. “Oh. Oh. You don’t want to stay alive. He wants something and you’re afraid if you stay here much longer you’ll break and let him have it. That’s why you don’t care. It’s your way out. I’m not sure whether it’s brilliant or stupid. No, it’s neither. You’re crazy. Completely insane.” He finished out of breath.

Caprianna had the look of a hunted animal in her eyes. She rolled the dress into a ball stuffed her pattern, needle, and thread into a pocket and slid off the table. She backed up into alcove, practically tripping over herself in her hurry. Her fear of him which had seemed to dissipate somewhat over the day had returned, with even more force.

She refused to look at him, tucking her things away with trembling hands and her coughing grew more and more violent, because she seemed to be trying to stop it. Every time she started coughing her eyes darted towards him and she tried to silence it.

Jasper felt like an idiot. She was scared of him now more than ever and she probably hated him into the bargain too. Of course that was her plan. And no one likes to have their plan busted. It makes the plan obsolete, and then you have to come up with a new one or surrender.

She stayed in her alcove the rest of the day. She even strung a blanket up between him and herself. She really did not like him.

Well he didn’t blame her. He’d discovered her plan, scared her to death, and made her cough more. If he were her, he’d hate him too.

So he didn’t talk to her. He didn’t even look in her direction. He was miserable he’d made her miserable, and he didn’t want to make it worse for either of them.

Finally evening fell and Dan came, which despite not really liking the man, Jasper welcomed as a relief. Caprianna must have heard him, because she emerged from behind the blanket as the man walked up. She wasn’t wearing her shawl and she walked silently across the floor in a very subdued fashion. She greeted Dan with a smile but it was a rather melancholy smile and Dan noticed.

“What’s wrong Cap? That scoundrel hasn’t given you any trouble has he?” Dan looked through the bars past Caprianna and at Jasper with a look of complete dislike. Jasper had had enough.

My name’s Holt.” He growled, standing. Cap watched him a trifle nervously and Dan glared at him. “I don’t care what your name is, and you’re a criminal. I’ll call you what a like.” Dan growled back.

Jasper gave him a hard look, “Fine. I don’t care what you call me. I just want her-” Jasper nodded at Caprianna. “-to know since I’ll be here for the rest of my miserable life. And I’m sorry I scared you.” He said looking her in the eyes (which was difficult). “I didn’t mean to you know.” He said feeling like the most treacherous person to ever walk the earth.

Ok, so he wasn’t guilty of lying just then. He’d meant what he said. But it was the reason he was in this mess that made it seem like he was lying. He didn’t want to be her enemy, but before this was over he most likely would be. He groaned inwardly wishing he had never decided to raid that stupid treasury.

The green depths had a dubious look in them. She wasn’t going to buy it. She wasn’t stupid and her trust would have to be won. Not given to him. This just got harder and harder all the time. Her steady gaze seemed to penetrate his very soul and Jasper had a feeling she was seeing all the lies he’d told and all the misdemeanors he’d committed. He didn’t dare look away for fear she would guess how guilty he was now.

Then she bent her head and turned away. She didn’t believe him. She might wish she could but she knew better than that. She knew that trust was not something that you gave to just anybody. He would have admired her for it if gaining her trust and not gaining it hadn’t meant the difference between life and death for him.

Jasper sighed and sat down on the bed. Dan ordered Caprianna to her own alcove and let the bars slide creakily out of the ceiling and into the grooves on the floor. Darkness took over soon after that and the rain continued. And he knew that Caprianna wasn’t asleep, he could practically feel her fear, even from here. The only thing that made it a little more bearable was the soft glow of the fires. Jasper lay down and for the second time in two days did not sleep for a long time.

Chapter 3

The next morning started much like the first. Caprianna was awake before Jasper and standing at the water fountain. He’d slept fitfully because it had rained all night, the temperature had dropped a considerable amount, and he’d felt rather guilty all night. And he woke with a start.

She jumped and nearly dropped the pot of water she was filling at his sudden movement. Then she scurried off to her side of the room throwing nervous glances at him. Jasper felt a pang.

She seemed like she could be so nice. Jasper had scooped up the paper she’d left lying on the floor yesterday and she’d written she would make him some soup too if he gave her a few ingredients. Even though he made her so frightened she’d tried to be polite. And all the while he was planning on ratting her out.

Jasper squashed the thought mercilessly, “It’s your only way out. And since when did you have a conscious? It’s way past time for that, and besides, you can NOT afford one right now. Why do you care anyway? She hasn’t done anything but given you trouble since you heard about this deal.”

Jasper rolled to his feet, and walked to the water spigot. It wasn’t her fault, and he knew it. He felt like a traitor because she seemed good. Sure she was a prisoner in the best secured prison on earth. Sure she hadn’t been very nice to him. But that didn’t make you a criminal. Especially in Marranan.

Everyone knew the king of Marranan wasn’t to be trusted. The way he’d acquired the throne was sketchy to say the least. To say the most would get you thrown in prison for treason. King Weasel, they called him. Sneaky, clever, and quite ready to smile at you while waiting for you turn around so he could knife you in the back. Some said that’s what happened to the old king. Others said he’d poisoned him, and still others said that he’d been killed with magic. But all agreed: the old king definitely hadn’t died by natural causes.

Only behind closed doors in whispers were these things discussed though. Even speaking about the old king’s death could get you followed. So people rarely spoke of it, and many people who did, disappeared and were never heard of again.

So for all Jasper knew Caprianna could be totally innocent. From his point of view anyway, Jasper doubted the Weasel saw her as innocent. Whatever she’d done to get stuck here might have been good for everyone other than the king. This was getting more and more complicated all the time. He twisted the knob and washed his face and hands with the block of soap that had come in the bag.

He dried off and turned to find Caprianna heating her pot of water. But she seemed to have a different plan for it today. She had a large ragged looking piece of material and a small container that looked like something like the tins that poorer women kept homemade beauty creams and soaps in. Jasper deduced she planned to wash her hair.

Caprianna caught him looking and blushed a little. She waited until he moved off to go to the water spigot and twist it on letting it splatter through the small drain in the floor. She threw the towel across her shoulders and stuck her head under the water gasping a bit at the cold.

She proceeded to wash her hair thoroughly, but still managed to keep one eye on him as she did so. Jasper felt a bit embarrassed to be watching a girl wash, so he carefully pretended he didn’t notice. Eventually he walked to the window and stared out until he was sure she was done and then he turned around.

She was standing of the fire letting her hair dry. She watched him carefully as he started to pace up and down his side of the room. He was already tired of being here. He ran his hands over his dark brown hair (which could use a trim) and tried to think of a way, any way, he could get out of here that didn’t include lying to her. There wasn’t one. He was stuck with the lot of his own casting. And it was a rotten hand alright.

***

The next three days passed in the same silent, apprehensive, way as the second one had. Jasper thought he would go bonkers with it. The strain showed in Caprianna’s face too, for she grew paler and looked tired and worried. And she still wouldn’t get within twenty feet of him.

She started nodding off over the dress she worked on and would wake with a start and wildly search the room for him. In fact they were both jumping like scared rabbits every time the other made a sudden movement, and their nerves were wearing thin from it.

On the fifth day of Jasper’s imprisonment something happened. When he woke that morning Caprianna was awake before him as usual, but she wasn’t next to the water spigot. And the bars were still closed on him.

Caprianna was sitting on the table (Where someone had placed four torches, one at each corner) her face paler then it had ever been. She didn’t look good. She had dark circles under her eyes and they were wide and scared looking. Her hands nervously clasped and unclasped in front of her and then tapped out rhythms on the table. She straightened her skirts (which didn’t need it) and then ran her fingers restlessly through her midnight colored hair. She didn’t even notice he was awake, (which was really out of character) distractedly pulling at a string on her sleeve.

But that didn’t change the fact he was still locked up. He sat up quickly, “What’s going on?” he asked groggily forgetting she couldn’t answer him.

Caprianna startled to her feet so quickly she practically toppled over. She relaxed a little when she realized it was just Jasper and her expression went neutral. Jasper had noticed that she could do that: completely hide her emotions if she wanted to. She probably had a hard time doing it since it was pretty much her only way of communication (Dan couldn’t read) and she had to rely on it a lot.

She held out a calming hand, which surprised Jasper. She’d barely looked at him with anything less than the complete revulsion a person gives a spider. She pulled a piece of paper from her pocket and wrote something quickly, walked over, and set it down in front of the bars. She shoved it closer with the toe of one shoe before returning to her seat on the table. She was obviously waiting for something. And judging from her odd behavior, something that scared her a lot more than he did.

Jasper slipped a hand through the bars and snitched the scrap of paper. It read in her neat, flowing script:

This won’t take long. Then Dan will let you out. Don’t worry,hewon’t bother you and as you keep quiet you should be fine.

Which made Jasper more nervous than ever. The way the ‘he’ was emphasized in spikey letters as if writing it made her angry. And if Caprianna was telling him—someone she didn’t trust anymore then a wolf—not to worry, then whoever was coming couldn’t be good. And Jasper had a pretty good idea who it was.

The door started clicking and making rasping sounds as Jasper struggled up pulling on his boots. Dan hurried in and closed the door behind him and it immediately was relocked by a guard on the other side. Caprianna stood and watched him approach with the dignity of a queen, none of her fluttering anxiety showing.

Her back was ramrod straight, and she swept her eyes over Dan with the grave, detached, grandeur, of an ambassador. Right now Dan was not her friend, but nor was he her jailer. He was a servant, which she considered neither her enemy nor her friend.

He reached her and looked her up and down with troubled expression. “Are you alright?” he asked concernedly. She arched an eyebrow with cold reserve. Dan sighed, “Not the act, please not the act. It makes him very angry, you know.”

She smirked slightly and for the first time, Jasper caught a glimpse of the daredevil rogue who hid under a mask of fear. It went well with her gypsy appearance, and though it passed in an instant and was replaced by the icy aloofness he found himself wishing to see it again. It was much more companionable then her other expressions.

“You should have been part of one of those performing troupes.” Muttered Dan. Jasper got the feeling Dan did not approve of the gypsy bands that traveled around performing for money.

Caprianna spun and walked with long stately strides to the part of the table where Jasper remembered the chains were. She daintily held out her wrists and glanced expectantly at Dan.

Dan looked pained and said, “You don’t make this any easier you know.”

She turned head closing her eyes. When she reopened them even Jasper could see the determinedly emotionless look in them.

Dan heaved a sigh and walked over snapping the cuffs on with a wince. She watched him with frosty indifference and Dan said nothing in the face of the freezing impersonal-ness that seemed to exude from her. A wintery atmosphere descended in the room and Jasper got an idea it wasn’t totally his imagination. As if an icy aura really was flowing from Caprianna.

He shivered. Jasper knew that some people had magic and knew how to use it, but the subject had always made him nervous and he avoided it. He wasn’t sure if this is what magic felt like but if it was, Jasper wanted no part of it. That cold, creeping, chill made his hair stand on end and an uncomfortable prickle ran up his spine.

Dan must have felt it too because he took an uneasy step back. Caprianna didn’t seem to notice the glacial sensation. Instead her head tilted toward the doorway and Jasper and Dan both realized that the marching footsteps of many guards could be heard in the passage outside.

Dan mumbled something and trotted to the door. He glanced back at the lone figure standing at the edge of the table facing the door. She stood tall and motionless, her beautiful features hard. But Jasper’s practiced con-man’s eye picked out the tense look in her eyes, and anyone could see the rigid white knuckled grip she had on the table. She was tough, but even she couldn’t entirely hide the apprehension she felt.

Dan opened the door. The marching footsteps came to a stop and a tall man in a black robe over an expensive tunic and custom made boots, and trousers strode in. The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few more degrees. He had a cruel smile on his lips. Black hair which was just starting to go grey was neatly trimmed, and he might have been handsome but for the cruel, pitiless, wolf-like expression on his pallid face.

The wolfishness was heightened by the amber eyes which held no compassion, and made you get the feeling your death would please him greatly. The man’s malicious, sneering smile immediately made you loath him and Caprianna watched him approach with grim distaste. Her manacled hands released the table slid into her pockets. Jasper guessed they were probably shaking and she didn’t want the Weasel—for it was indeed the vicious double-crossing king of Marranan—to see how much he frightened her.

Jasper could feel hands turning into fists at his sides. He hated King Varian. He absolutely despised the man. They’d met before; in fact it was Varian who’d struck Jasper this horrible deal. Of course he’d failed to mention to Jasper he was supposed to charm the information he wanted from a girl.

That was the deal: if Jasper got the information and handed it over to Varian, than Jasper was free to do as he pleased. The information was a word, a passcode of some type which only Caprianna knew. And Jasper was supposed to supply him with it soon or the deal was off and Jasper was executed for breaking into the royal vaults.

Jasper hated himself for agreeing, but he hated Varian even more for giving him no choice. Well, no reasonable choice any way. Why in the name of Marranan had he had to go try and raid the royal treasury?

“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite little conjurer. Hello Lady Caprianna Madaleina Snow. What? What’s that? Nothing to say? Oh that’s right, you never talk.” The man laughed

Caprianna’s cold mask didn’t flicker for instant, but Jasper felt like strangling him. How could he torment a mute like that? Especially a girl!

“Evil?” Suggested an annoying voice in his head. “Oh, shut up.” He told it. The king was speaking again.

“It’s been a while since I was last up here, and I must say you look a little thin. And much paler than usual. Of course the prison life can do that to you. You could end this with just one little piece of information.” Varian waved his hand as if erasing something. “Return to decent society with a clean slate. All it takes is you, writing down the passcode to the FateAgeian.

Caprianna was unimpressed. She arched her eyebrows and her expression said, ‘You really think you can tempt me that easily?’

King Varian sighed and purred out, “Well I see you won’t give in for a deal so cheap. Ah, but how about this?” He lifted a small glass bottle on a chain out of his pocket. It glowed an eerily, a ghostly, white light in the gloomy room, and all of a sudden a spooky humming sound filled the air.

The air came alive with energy and Caprianna’s gaze fastened on the bottle longingly for just a moment before she turned her head away.

“Oh, come now Caprianna. Don’t pretend you don’t want it! You can have it in exchange for one little word. One simple little word can set you free, voice and all.”

Caprianna’s gaze snapped back to Varian forcefully, and suddenly an ice cold tingle filled the room with a roaring sound like water that made your head pound like a sledgehammer. The guards around the room whimpered and clapped their hands over their ears. Jasper winced and stepped away from the bars and even Varian looked uncomfortable. He seemed to struggle with an invisible force for the bottle he held. The bottle was humming even louder now and Caprianna’s hand was out of her pocket shaking as it beckoned to the bottle.

The bottle seemed to pull against Varian. It wanted to go to Caprianna. Then suddenly Varian made a sign with his left hand and Caprianna lurched as if shoved. The sounds and the cold were gone and Varian hung the bottle round his neck sticking it inside his tunic.

“Ah, ah, ah! Naughty, naughty! That’s no way to act Caprianna. You know the rules. And you will get hurt if you don’t stick to them.”

Caprianna was breathing hard and her eyes were wide as she watched the bottle slip out of sight. Shaking off the emotion she drew herself up and threw back her shoulders rebelliously, eyebrows arched with dignity of an empress.

“Don’t you dare look at me that way girl!” growled Varian.

Caprianna simply lifted her chin a bit. Varian snarled and stalked around the table. The guards moved back nervously but Caprianna was impassive. She didn’t flinch when touched her throat, didn’t even blink.

“Come now Cap. Don’t act like you aren’t terrified. I know you are.” Varian said in a sing-song taunt as his thumb dug into her neck. Caprianna closed her eyes and a slight frown creased her brow but she didn’t make a sound or even pull away. His features grew livid and he pressed harder. Her eyelids fluttered open and the pain she felt was unmistakable in those green depths.

But it was equaled by the stubborn way her lips pursed and she glared at the king through that pain.

Varian’s expression changed from livid to outright fury. He released her neck and grabbed a handful of hair. “Tell me!” he whispered with so much hatred in his voice it made Jasper’s blood run cold.

He yanked Caprianna’s hair violently and Jasper felt a rage like he’d never felt before flood his body. It went through him like white hot lava and before he could help himself he shouted out, “Stop! You’re hurting her! What sort of man hurts a girl? She hasn’t done anything to you! And even she has that’s still no way to treat a female!”

Varian had released Caprianna and was looking stunned. The guards' jaws were open in shock and horror. Caprianna’s calm had broken and she was staring at him with a mixture of shock, fright, and… and was that admiration?

~By Gyp-Z