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Back in the Cage/The Natives Are Restless

Pair by pair, after their allotted time was up (even if, like Tobias, they seemed to have spent most of their time in the latrine and had very little actual exercise), they were returned to the Cage and were looked in again. As each person entered the Cage, the guards checked that their manacles were secure with a cruel yank, followed by a shove that sent many of them sprawling. The guards laughed.

Finally, once they were all returned, the next thing that happened was a changeover of the guard.

The new detail were different from the old - perhaps beccause they were fresh. Whereas the old detail had become almost relaxed about handling the prisoners, laughing at their discomforts and making crude jokes and remarks, the new detail were wary, almost unbelievably tense. When two of the prisoners kicked a haybale apart, so that those who wished to sleep might have something other than the cold hard stone to lie on, several of the guards tensed and jumped, some training their small bows on the prisoners, another pair grabbing their daggers, and a very young guard moving to grab one of the wall torches for a weapon. A barked order from the Sargeant stopped him - and the rest calmed slowly - but the Sargeant looked in little better case than the rest; his eyes were red-rimmed, and he was sweating profusely. From time to time he pulled out a big kerchief and mopped at his face, sending sidelong looks at the prisoners that suggested his extreme unease.

With purpose in his stride, Lazarus walked to the side of the cage closest to the Sergeant. With a tilt of his head, he pressed his face close to the cold bars. His eyes searched out the red-rimmed eyes of the Sergeant, and he stared... a cold and hateful expression now on his face.

For his part, Seth inclined his head at the sergeant, favoring him with the same smile. Bingo, he thought. He tilted his head slightly, stared at the man, and leaned in to whisper in Lazarus' ear. "You know, then," he said to Lazarus. "Good. Seems we have some similar talents...I'm thinking we should have a little talk with everyone, pool our knowledge, get a plan together. You game?"

Lazarus pulled away from the cage and gave Seth a strange look, then leaned close and began a brief (whispered) conversation with him.

Later, Seth moved to the center of the cage and motioned everyone to get close.

"If we're gonna get out of here," he said, "we need a plan. Now that we've all seen what's out there, I think the best thing to do is share what we've got- no matter how large or small- so that we've got the best chance..."

Jenever nodded. "In that I must disappoint you all," she said stiffly, hating her own weakness. "I had no knowledge of what I was carrying and do not believe I have any talents as yet related to such things. I am a decent warrior, however, and have some skill in medicine. Those are not exceptional nor uncommon skills, but they are all I can offer, so... as difficult as it may be with my hands where they are..."

She went for one of the leather waterskins, unstoppered it with her teeth, and dampened a strip of cloth with it.

"At the least," she murmured, "I ought to be able to clean out Seth and Opal's wounds a bit, maybe keep them from being infected. We might even be able to fashion cloth shoes for those with softer feet to avoid further injury."

Morgan shrugged, looking over at Jenever. "I'm not doing much better, lady. I, too, am more of a warrior than a planner. Although I have, perforce, had to plan in my past, such plans did not usually include escape from prisons controlled by madmen."

He sat, cautiously, eschewing any hay for the stone itself, seemingly unaffected by the lack of cushioning, and sat, listening intently.

Seth said, "I can start with a little tidbit before the main course- there's a barracks where this last guard detail came from. I couldn't place it against our position, not yet. One door of it leads to us, the other leads out and to freedom."

Dot cleared a space on the floor and gathered some of the scattered hay. Laying it out carefully she gave a good representation of what was known. She laid out the best probability for the location of a barracks based on her observations. The effect was eerily realistic, with certain straws even representing estimated structural integrity.

Morgan, quiet throughout the trip back to the cage, let the others seek to unnerve the guards. He preferred to watch how they held their weapons, what kind of training they'd had.

As Seth pulled them all together, he nodded briefly, speaking as softly as he was able. "The difficult part is getting out, of course. Unfortunately, my skills don't lend themselves to escape from fortresses, and I don't know if I have any information to provide. I've been trying to see if I still have any connection with the earth besides the touch of my feet, but I haven't felt anything yet."

Opal watched quietly as Dot laid out the straws. Then when Dot appeared to have the main layout, Opal extended her good foot and tapped her toe on an area outside of the schema. "Here," she said very quietly. "We need to get here. That's where they put them." Her toe left a small smear of mud on the stone where she tapped.

"What, the plantaxy?" Seth made a face. "Damn it... sneaky bastards. This is gonna be a lot harder without them- I had hoped to grab 'em quick and use them to help get out."

Opal looked around at the guards watching them. "They won't be easy to get to," she continued in her quiet voice. "They're shielded, which means something significant protecting them. Maybe a vault or a safe. Something... like this cage, maybe." Opal grimaced at it. "It is definitely resistant to... influence."

Jenever shrugged, listening intently to the planning session as she moved toward Seth.

"It's none too clean," she explained in a whisper, "but it will be better than nothing. I am sorry I did not do this sooner."

She stood in front of him, where he sat, and was tall enough that by contorting her body painfully she could get her hands up to the level of his face. Twisting her head and upper body she had a fair idea where her hands were going and carefully patted at his injury, wiping away the dried blood.

Her touch was a good deal more gentle than her usual brusque manner would indicate.

Seth nodded in response. "Thanks again," he said. "Don't worry about infection... if we get out of here, and I get the chance to really sleep, it won't be an issue. I can take more punishment than it appears."

Jenever smiled at him. "I believe that," she murmured and moved on towards Opal. She had to rip a new cloth and soak it carefully.

"It has to be a little better than the filth outside," she murmured and knelt in front of Opal, twisted around to see where her hands were. "We'll wrap your foot and see what we can do to keep it as clean as possible."

"Now... if we could get the cage open, could we escape the guards?" Opal looked around at the other occupants of the imprisonment for their opinion.

"It's almost as though they don't *want* us to escape," Haakon murmured dryly.

Standing off to one side, not looking at the map so as to avoid drawing undue attention to it, Haakon spoke while barely moving his lips. "If we're doing this under our own power, we'll need to do it when they bring us all out together; we'll need the numbers. Any pair of us outside during exercise would be cut down before we got anywhere, and those left inside would probably be killed immediately afterwards. That means we're probably only going to have one chance, when they bring us back to the throne room.

"We do have one chance of outside help, and that's Simon. I wouldn't bet on it, but there's a faint chance we can crack him. He's got some kind of fascination with you, Opal; use it any way you can. He's damned smart, so it's not going to be easy; but I'm willing to bet you are too, so we have a shot." He grinned faintly, briefly.

Seth smiled the same tight smile. "There's another shoe I was going to drop. The sergeant of the guards over there...he's had a pretty rough night. Full of nightmares and fear. He's really jumpy around us, and he's dreamed that maybe we'd spare them if they made things...easier... for us. I don't know how far that compulsion will go, but at least they'll be more prone to break if we try to take them out."

He tried to sit a little more comfortably; the cage seemed to close in on him..."This is all fantastic, more than I hoped for. Is there anything else? If not, I thought we'd put a plan together." He looked around.

"All kinds of things we have to overcome. The manacles. The bars. The guards. Simon. Getting our plantaxy. Getting out. What to do if the Hunter or Lady show up. What to do if we make it outside." He shook his head.

"And Simon...I don't know. I thought at first that he was actually sympathetic, but now I don't. I think his attitude is more like a guy in a white coat watching the rats run around in the maze. I get the feeling that he's more arrogant than kind. Maybe I'm wrong, but I like to go with my instincts." He paused.

"That's a lot. At least, we have a place to go and the means to get our crystals. We get the plantaxy, we can get into Shadow, and they may even be afraid to follow. I'll certainly be making it hard for them, if no one else. One other thing I can do; I can maybe deflect some of the arrows and bolts, if it comes to that. Easier with plantaxy, and this place is harder to use my talents, but I'll do what I can. Any suggestions for the other stuff?"

Opal looked up at Seth from where she sat. "I don't know about Simon," she said, glancing at Haarkon. "But I suspect he hasn't been given specific orders to stop us if we try to escape."

She slid down off the pile of hay she'd been sitting on and stretched her legs out in front of her. Her hands and manacles now out of sight because of the pile she leaned against. "I wonder... if Simon had an element, what would it be? Water, maybe?"

Lazarus stayed close to the bars of the cage, and kept giving the sergeant cold looks. When he spoke, it was low and quiet. "Let's not even think on counting on anyone but ourselves. Getting a plantaxy for each of us is a must. I think if we each had our plantaxies, our psychological advantage alone would be great. They would truly fear us if we were 'armed', as such."

Jenever pursed her lips, considering as she worked with Opal's foot. Finally she said, "Manacles. I can see three options, but none are very good, for various reasons, so please jump in with others if you can. One, we manage to get the keys somehow - either from Simon or when that bastard Sergeant drops them on the ground... Not likely, but the easiest way to free ourselves. Two, we might manage at least to get our manacles in front of us during this detail if someone made a big enough distraction. It wouldn't free us of them completely, but it would help considerably. Three, if you people can really do - for want of a better word - magic, then perhaps one of you could weaken the elements in the manacles so that they might be cracked open. I do not suppose that is particularly likely without plantaxy, however."

"I've never tried it without a crystal," Haakon murmured, "but if we can get enough water into one of the locks, I might be able to crack the mechanism. Unfortunately, our only source of water would appear to involve spitting, or..." He looked around at the ladies present with a wicked grin. "...or otherwise making water.

"Still, it's worth a try."

Despite himself, Seth had to smile at that one. "I'm not prepared to discuss methods of water production here at this time," he said. "Wonder what the guards would think at that one."

"Can't use power on the manacles," Opal whispered. "They're made of some material that resists our elements." She winced as Jenever started to clean between her toes. "No, we have to do this the hard way..."

Seth thought a moment, and his eyebrow raised. "Wait a minute...completely off the subject, but I remember ...the Hunter said four of us were in Bogatina. I was there, I know two more, but who else was there?"

A figure moved to Jenever's side, then sat in one graceful, careful motion. Tobias, arms once more pinned behind him. He studied her work on Opal's foot, then glanced upwards, smiling faintly at the nervous soldiers on the crosswalk.

"Do you think it was something we said?" he asked lightly, then returned to a semi-concerned study of Opal's foot.

"My manners have abandoned me here... I couldn't help but overhear..." He paused, then looked up again.

"You wouldn't happen to be up for practicing, would you, Opal? I don't know how you might affect the things you talk about, but... in the heat of battle would be a hell of a time to find out you were lacking, would it not?"

Dot had withdrawn from the group, and was sitting quietly, if slightly uncomfortably, on a hay bale. She was listening carefully.

Opal smiled faintly. "The main thing to remember is your power doesn't come from your plantaxy," she said softly, but loud enough for everyone in the cage to hear. "The plantaxy amplifies, but it doesn't give you the power in the first place. That comes from within you. So... you could maybe cause the water sitting out in the exercise area to.. maybe start flooding in here and cause a distraction."

Opal shifted slightly, and it was obvious that she was doing something with her hands. "Or you could at least sit next to me and give me some cover from the guards. I'm... starting to get there. Seth? Come sit on the other side of me. I could use a good luck charm right about now."

Morgan shook off his reverie and looked casually at the others. His voice, when he spoke, was little more than a breath. "I have had precious little luck with the stones. Are the rest of you feeling a barrier around here? I initially thought so, but some of you seem to have gotten information from outside the area."

Opal nodded. "The cage, like the manacles, is resistant to our abilities. However, with some discipline you can slide your power out through the bars without interacting with them."

Morgan shook his head slowly, speaking softly still. "No, Lady, I do not think it's the cage - at least, not solely. This is a barrier deep beneath us, and around the room, not merely the cage. I felt something similar in the exercise yard."

Then he shrugged and smiled. "I believe I might manage to break my manacles, given time. Possibly the rest, but I'm not sure we'd be given time once one pair broke. And no, not by affecting them directly. One thing I've learned to do is draw the strength of the stone into my very bones. With my strength, and bones that are nigh unbreakable, I should be able to break free. The concern, however, is that it will take a great deal of time, and I am not certain how draining it will be, or even if it will work as it would with a Plantaxy."

"The shadow may be corrupt, but maybe the concrete beneath our feet isn't." Opal winced again as Jenever cleaned her toes. "Try to pull from just that material, not from the shadow itself. Precision is our best chance with our powers now."

Morgan smiled. "Oh, I know the stones beneath our feet are not corrupt. They're ancient. Incredibly ancient. As I say, I am not certain of the outcome, should I attempt it. I would not make promises that I am unable to keep. I will try, however. As soon as we know when we're to begin our attempts."

Opal looked at Haakon "Water in the locks is a good thought. The air is very humid right now, with the rain and all. Maybe one of the air people can condense enough moisture from the air into the lock. The guards wouldn't see that. Then you could freeze it and snap it open."

Seth moved to sit on the other side of Opal, blocking the view of the guards as best he could. Softly, he said, "Not I...I can't affect temperature. Wind is my expertise."

Opal nodded, then whispered "Then maybe when we get the door open you could blow the guards off the catwalks?" she suggested. "Or at least create a wind that'll throw their aim off."

Tobias listened, creeping over to Opal's side and settling in, as chummy as if they were old school mates.

"I can make a martini to die for," he offered airily, trying to keep his attention diffuse and vaguely bored. "And you should see my fly fishing... And if anyone wants a property in the East Atlantic, I am your man."

Lazarus turned back to the cage, pressing his pale face against the cold bars. "Sergeant," he called, "come here." He beckoned to the man with his pale hand.

The Sergeant looked at him warily. Then he signalled to two guards to flank him on either side before advancing towards the cage. He stayed a good five feet away from it, however.

"What do you want?" he asked suspiciously.

The bleary red eyes of the Sergeant became Lazarus' focus. His own pale eyes burned with an inner fire as he locked gazes with the nervous man. "Doom" he barely whispered (almost only mouthing the word) and switched to a commanding tone: "These chains," he rattled his chained hands, "must go. Now, get your key out." His expression didn't change as he whispered it again: "Doom" Not pausing for a moment, he continued in a commanding tone: "Now, I said! Are you ill? Are you not listening?"

*Doom* he mouthed the word.

"You look like crap, man.... now hurry up and get your key out."

"Doom..." he whispered again.

The Sergeant gave a gasp - and took a step back.

Then another. He began to wheeze, like a man having an asthma attack.

"You ... " he said. "You ... stay away from ... me!"

He was gasping now, wheezing for air. The two guards with him exchanged nervous looks, then looked back at Lazarus.

"Sergeant," said one, swallowing nervously, "should ... should we shoot him?"

The Sergeant drew another wheezing breath, then straightened, to glare at Lazarus.

"Yes," he managed to get out.

The archers on the walkways lifted their bows, taking aim. Their fingers flew to the crossbow triggers, their aim steady and true despite the pounding of their hearts.

Tobias looked over his shoulder, eyes widening with the command to kill. "Opal," he said under his breath, "If you could make with some of that magic soon... It would be appreciated..."

"No." A voice cut into the room, soft but cold as ice, and like the frigid snap of winter it seemed to freeze the room into a still life, a tableau filled with tension. From the dark corridor that led to the castle proper, Simon swept into the chamber of the Cage, still wearing the same aristocratic garb he had had before, and still with the same black mantle, now billowing out behind him with the force of his entry. With him now was a young woman, simply dressed but beautiful nonetheless, her black hair pulled back from elegant and demure features with a bejeweled hair clasp. Her eyes, a startling violet, surveyed the room with obvious concern.

To some within the room - to Morgan, Jenever and Tobias, she looked very familiar - Anaka, the girl that had seemingly led the Hunter to them. She looked nervously away from Simon and the Sergeant to the inhabitants of the Cage - but her eyes passed over all the prisoners without recognition. She seemed apprehensive, and moved closer to Simon again.

At the girl's appearance, Jenever, who had been kneeling in a rather protective fashion in front of Opal rose with a cold, regal grace. Her face might have been carved in stone for all the emotion that showed on it, and somehow that made her rage all the more apparent to those who might have grown accustomed to her mercurial moods, all perfectly obvious on her face before now.

Simon still seemed very calm, despite the tension of the situation, and his gaze was still a flat, lifeless black as he glided up towards the sergeant and the men at the Cage. "Sergeant, what has happened here?" he whispered softly, and though there was nothing of an air of menace in his voice, the hapless man looked like he might flinch under the words.

The sergeant, red-faced, was gasping for air. He managed to point in the direction of Lazarus and gasped, "Him!"

Almost timidly, one of the guards spoke. "He called the sergeant over to speak with him, Sir. And he was talking about doom ... and that the sergeant had to let him go ... "

"And then the Sergeant started gasping for breath," supplied the second guard.

"Couldn't ... breathe ... " gasped the sergeant. "Like ... my dream!"

"Is that so," Simon remarked mildly. He took a sidelong glance at Lazarus, but said nothing else.

"You men should get him to a Doctor, he looks sick... hope he's not contagious..." quipped Lazarus, "... could be fatal."

"Sergeant, you are relieved," Simon continued, peremptorily, returning his attention to the men outside the Cage. "Dismissed. Corporal, what else have the prisoners been doing in my absence?"

"Talking, Sir," said the corporal nervously. "Sitting together, playing with bits of straw and ... talking."

For the first time, the slightest trace of annoyance showed on Simon's otherwise bland expression. He glanced over to the inside of the Cage, looking hard at the diagram of sticks and straw on the floor. "Talking. What about?" he asked, his voice still mild.

Morgan's visage, calm and attentive, changed dramatically when he saw the girl with Simon. At first it seemed as though he had gone bestial, as raw, hating rage filled his face. The effect passed almost as quickly as it came, to be replaced with a wry, sardonic smile by the time the girl's eyes swept over him. As she showed no recognition, he frowned slightly in confusion, then turned his gaze back on Opal - until Simon spoke. Then, with a cold, cutting tone, he answered Simon's query. "Oh, tea ceremonies, dances and musical arrangements. The usual fare for such soirees as we've found ourselves invited to. Do join us, my good man. I would quite enjoy discoursing on various subjects with you."

"I am afraid I cannot," Simon answered, evidently choosing to ignore the sarcasm. "I am here on my Lady's business. Perhaps another time, Master Morgan."

Opal, who had looked up at the entrance of Simon and the lovely girl, suddenly started to chuckle. It had an almost bitter tone to it. "We were just speaking of your Lady's hospitality and generosity," she said in a voice that carried through the room. "I confess to being most impressed with the quality of the accomodations," she said with a touch of irony to her voice. She raised her dirty, bloody foot, roughly bandaged, for Simon and the girl to see.

Seth sat forward now; instead of talking, he was glancing back and forth at the guards; up, left, right...he was the picture of unresolved tension, waiting, checking each of the guards' bows before moving on. Occasionally, he would spare a glance back to Lazarus. He frowned as he calculated the distance between those outside and inside...

The Corporal swallowed. "We caught the occasional word, Sir. They were talking about dreams - and Plantaxy. And ... stone, Sir."

"We didn't listen too much," said the other guard. "Lest it was a spell. Like the one they set on the Sergeant. He be mortal afeared."

Lazarus chuckled and wiped his face with his shoulder. He flinched, perhaps at the roughness of the cloth, or something else.

"He's right, Simon. We've been talking about escaping. We're going to dig our way out though the stone floor, and we're going to do it with shovels made of straw... and we're going to use powerful magic spells to get our plantaxies back." Lazarus smiled. "That pretty much sums it up."

That being said, Lazarus moved to the center of the cage and sat down on a bale of straw.

"So I see, corporal," Simon murmured, looking at the chastised figure of the former sergeant. "Your epaulet, please." Simon held his hand out to the officer, and, after a long pause, the sergeant removed the braided lanyard of his office from his shoulder with a look of cold fury writ large on his sweating face, placing it in Simon's unmoved palm with obvious loathing, and equally obviously avoiding touching the young man. Without further ceremony, Simon slung it over the corporal's shoulder. "You are dismissed, as I said. Return to your quarters," he added, not looking at the hapless, frightened man as he backed out of the chamber, his face a mask of conflicting emotions. "Did they discuss anything else?"

He inclined his head slightly, sweeping one hand back to indicate the girl he had entered with. "Permit me to introduce Lynx, another of my Lady's attendants. The Lady has asked us both to implement - her wishes in this matter." He took a step closer to the Cage, making sure to meet everyone's eyes within as he spoke slowly. "I must open the Cage now, and remove three of you to the exercise yard; Mistresses Jenever, Opal and Dorothy, in fact. As you can see, the guards here are still quite tense, and are likely to shoot at the slightest provocation." As if to reinforce those words, the newly-promoted sergeant and the other man with him stood back from the Cage, moving back to the wall and hefting their weapons, bringing them to bear - on Lazarus, most specifically. "And as you can also see, there are many of them, more than enough to seriously injure or kill most of you in the first volley. Your cooperation would be most appreciated."

Opal frowned, then slowly stood up. "Remember what he said," she spoke quietly to Jenever and Dot. "There are too many of them right now. Don't lose your tempers. Don't volunteer anything. And don't be afraid." Opal smiled at Dot as she whispered the last.

The blond woman walked to the cage door, favoring her right foot. She stood there and waited, her face showed calm resolution.

Jenever nodded, although her expression was still that of a statue, her gray eyes as cold as shadow on snow. In a tone of icy command she said, "I take it this 'exercise' is a bit special? It cannot have been a day since we were out last."

Morgan nodded, his face tight with the calm of holding back too much to bear. "That is, of course, the only reason he and that trollop beside him can approach us safely, and he knows it."

He stood then, careful as always, and turned away from Simon and Anaka, breathing evenly but tense with unresolved action.

"Indeed, Master Morgan," Simon commented blandly as he bent to the task of unlocking the door. "Given your situation and the obvious hatred I engender, I do not doubt that you would swiftly tear me limb from limb if it were not for the fact that these men would kill you." He swung the door open, standing back to allow the ladies to come out.

"Lynx?" he queried, looking almost puzzled at her. "Some of these good Masters and Mistresses seem to know you. I was not aware of such."

"Trollop?" said Lynx to Simon. "Why does he call me that? What does he mean?"

Her apprehension seemed to be growing.

"I am afraid I do not know," Simon mused, apparently equally puzzled. "Have you met Lynx before, Master Morgan?"

Morgan merely chuckled softly. "No, of course not. I always greet those I've never met with killing anger. It has absolutely nothing to do with betrayal of trust. And, no, I do not, even briefly, accept the posed excuse that she does not know us. I have met players who could convince one that they're your long-lost sibling. Somewhat more difficult than pretending you don't know those you've betrayed."

Lynx looked at the angry prisoner - and then shook her head.

"I've never seen him before, Sir," she said earnestly to Simon. "How could I - when they were all brought to Karadon from Shadow? I have never left Karadon in my life - the Lady will tell you so!"

Her face was turned earnestly to Simon, and she added, "Why would she send me into Shadow - when she needed me here?"

"I think the word of the Lady may mean little to our prisoners, Lynx," Simon commented dryly, folding his hands carefully in front of him. "And it would hardly be unlike her to keep things from me." He shook his head. "It is of little import, at any rate, since they will hardly take your word either, or mine, for that matter, and whether they know you or not changes nothing. Come, ladies, please" he continued, addressing the Cage. "I am required to take you outside."

Jenever found she could stand it no more. As she walked forward to take her place in front of Simon, she said to Lynx, "Unless you have a twin sister, I am afraid I cannot believe you do not know us. Indeed, your indifference seems rather callow in the face of what you claimed at our last meeting - that I had murdered your grandfather."

"Grandfather?" said Lynx bewildered. "But ... I am one of the Lady's maids. I have no grandfather - I never have had. I only have my Lady."

Jenever looked at her carefully, searching for signs of difference between Lynx and Anaka. "Never mind," she said finally, "whether it is true or not, you are an enemy."

With the exchange between Morgan and Lynx, Opal had started to look at the young woman with some puzzlement. With the last statement from Jenever, Opal shook her head. "Jenever, stop please. Something else is going on here..."

"I wouldn't discount the possibility of a twin, or perhaps more," Simon murmured thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing slightly, as he gestured for three guardsmen to come forward and escort the ladies out. They approached cautiously, weapons trained, and motioned for their charges to precede them down that dark passageway, while they followed well out of arm's reach and with bows trained squarely on their backs. "There are more guards out in the yard, awaiting you," Simon added as they passed by, "and I will be out shortly."

Opal tilted her head, her green eyes fixed on Lynx's face. "I've seen your eyes before. But on someone else. Her very image..." With that last, Opal sounded as if she might have been quoting someone.

Then Opal turned and looked at Simon. "Must this happen?" she asked quietly, her face showing a quiet sorrow.

His expression changed again, his brows furrowing a little and an apparent growing discomfort began to wash over him. Simon swallowed, almost nervously, but he did not reply immediately, and instead looked away from those piercing green eyes, taking a moment to compose himself. "I will be out shortly," he repeated, less certainly this time.

Once they had left, Simon turned to face the Cage, and closed it firmly, locking the door. "The Lady has instructed that I separate you," he explained to the five men inside, his voice dry and melancholy once again. "She has demanded that two of you be selected for some added - questioning," and the emphasis on that word left no doubt as to what such questioning would entail. "One of the men, and one of the women." He fixed each of them in the Cage with his gaze in turn. "However, she has instructed that you are to choose which two of you will be selected for this. You five are to choose one of the ladies, and they will similarly choose one of you. If you will not or cannot choose, then all of you will suffer the same fate as the two would have." He spread his hands, almost apologetically. "I doubt the questioning will be very pleasant," he added unnecessarily, but without relish.

"You have ten minutes." Simon turned to the newly-promoted sergeant. "Sergeant, you are in charge here. Please follow the Hunter's instructions and do not speak to the prisoners. I imagine you have been told to shoot if you must, but I think their powers and prowess have been objectly demonstrated tonight, and you need no reminding to be cautious." With that, he swept out of the chamber, Lynx following behind him.

***

Evening had fallen outside in the yard, turning the mud into a cold slush that sucked the heat from the body through one's feet. A few guards were around the top of the wall, sentries, it seemed, bleak silhouettes against the grey and black sky beyond. The silver embroidery on Simon's cloak and jacket glittered as he joined them outside, as did Lynx's jewelry and gleaming eyes. Somewhat more hesitantly, he outlined the same instructions as he had within, carefully avoiding Opal's gaze.

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