really hard.”
Drogan nodded, gently prodding the lump on the back of his head. “Give me a minute to get my bearings and I’ll see if I can do anything for your hand,” he muttered.
She nodded, looking helplessly at her broken hand.
A few minutes later there was a loud pounding at the door.
“Open up in there,” an angry voice said.
When they didn’t immediately respond, the pounding grew louder.
“Open up, right now!”
Lacy looked at Drogan, then at the corpse on the floor as the door burst open and two men entered, followed by the captain.
“I heard a scuffle,” a sailor said. “Came to you with it straightaway, Captain.”
Lacy thought the voice sounded familiar.
“I’ll not tolerate murder on my ship,” the captain said.
“But he was possessed,” Lacy protested.
The captain eyed her with a confused frown.
“I’ve heard a lot of excuses in my time, but that’s a new one on me. Take them to the brig. We’ll sort this out once we’re sure they can’t do any more harm.”
***
They spent the night in cold, cramped cages that shared a wall of bars. Dinner was a moldy piece of bread and a cup of water. Lacy was miserable. Her hand throbbed with pain that wouldn’t let her sleep. The guard ignored her pleas or threatened her when she didn’t relent.
Drogan just curled up on the floor and went to sleep. She didn’t understand him, but she had to admit to herself that she was glad he was still with her, even if they were locked in cages.
Morning came and two men hauled her out of her cell to face the captain. They took her to a little room and sat her roughly in a wooden chair. The captain and first mate sat behind a table facing her. Both guards took positions behind her on either side of the door.
“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” the captain asked.
“The man came to our quarters and attacked us,” Lacy said, holding up her broken hand as evidence. “He was possessed by a creature that’s been hunting me for weeks.”
“Possessed?” the first mate said. “By what, a shade?” he laughed.
“I don’t know,” Lacy said. “He tortured me and threatened to kill Drogan.”
“She’s crazy,” the first mate said.
“Perhaps,” the captain said. “You killed a good sailor. He just brought you a meal, now he’s dead. Justice must be served.”
“I say we hang them and be done with it,” the first mate said.
“I’m inclined to agree,” the captain said. “Unless you can explain yourself more … rationally, I will pass sentence.”
“Could be she’s someone important,” one of the guards said, “fine stitching in her clothes and all, good steel in her blade, and she paid in gold.”
Lacy’s mind raced. She thought she almost recognized the voice of the guard, but she was far too afraid of hanging to do more than grab hold of the lifeline.
“My name is Lacy Fellenden, Princess of the House of Fellenden. I’ve been sent by my father on an urgent mission to speak with King Abel Ithilian. If you kill me or my companion, you will face justice, Captain.”
The first mate guffawed, but the captain eyed her carefully.
“Not that I believe a word you’ve said, but I think I’ll leave the dispensation of justice to the constable at port. It’ll be another few days. Until then, I hope you enjoy the accommodations.”
Chapter 8
Time passed. Lacy lost track of day and night in the poorly lit hold. Pain was the only constant. Her hand was useless, but that didn’t stop her from trying to use it out of habit, only to remember a moment too late when the constant aching flared into sudden agony. Her only consolation was that the captain had ordered her belongings locked in a strongbox near her cell. At least she knew where the black box was.
Imprisonment gave her time to think, to recall every word of her conversation with Rankosi. He said that the box contained a keystone, to what she had no idea, but the fact that he wanted it was
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