I crawled over to my water. I will not enumerate the pains it cost for me to lift it and drink. My initial attempts to defend myself had left my hands swollen and sore. I tried vainly to keep the edge of the water pot from bumping against my mouth. Finally, I managed to drink. The water strengthened me, to make me all the more aware of everywhere I hurt. My half loaf of bread was there as well. I stuck the end of it in what was left of my water, and then sucked the soaked bread from the loaf as it softened. It tasted like blood. Bolt’s initial battering of my head had loosened teeth and cut my mouth. I was aware of my nose as an immense area of throbbing pain. I could not bring myself to touch it with my fingers. There was no pleasure in eating, only a partial relief from the hunger that clawed at me alongside my pain.

After a time I sat up. I dragged the cloak around me and considered what I knew. Regal would batter at me physically until I either manifested the Wit in an attack his guards could witness, or until I dropped my walls enough that Will could get in my mind and inspire me to confess. I wondered which way he would rather win. I did not doubt he would win. My sole way out of this cell was by dying. Options. To try to make them beat me to death before I either used the Wit or dropped my Skill barrier to Will. Or, to take the poison I had made for Wallace. I would die from it. That was definite. In my weakened state, it would probably be faster than I had planned it for him. Still painful, though. Wretchedly painful.

One kind of pain seemed as good as another. Laboriously I folded back my bloodied right cuff. The hidden pocket was secured by a thread that should have come loose at a slight tug. But blood had matted it closed. I picked at it carefully. Mustn’t spill it. I’d need to wait until they gave me more water to get it down. Otherwise I’d just gag and retch on the bitter powder. I was still working at it when I heard voices down the hallway.

It did not seem fair they would come back at me so soon. I listened. It wasn’t Regal. But anyone coming down here meant something to do with me. A deep voice, rumbling along in a rambling way. The guards replying briefly, in hostile tones. Another voice, interceding, reasoning. The rumbling again, getting louder, and the belligerence plain. Suddenly a shout.

“You’re going to die, Fitz! Hanged over water, and your body burned!”

Burrich’s voice. A strange mix of anger and threat and pain.

“Get him out of here.” One of the guards, speaking loud and plain now. She was obviously an Inlander.

“I will, I will.” I knew that voice. Blade. “He’s just had a bit too much to drink, that’s all. It’s always been a problem with him. And he had the boy as his apprentice down there in the stables for years. Everyone’s saying he should have known about it, did know about it and didn’t do anything, maybe.”

“Yessss.” Burrich drew out the angry affirmation. “And I’m out of a job now, bastard! No more buck’s crest for me! Well, by El’s ass, it hardly matters. Horses are gone. Best damn horses I ever trained, gone inland now, given over to fools! Dogs are gone, hawks are gone! All that’re left are the scrubs and a couple mules. Don’t have one horse I’d admit to owning!” His voice was growing closer. There was madness in it.

I scrabbled up the door, clung to the bars to see. I couldn’t see the guard post, but their shadows were on the wall. Burrich’s shadow was attempting to come down the hall while the guards and Blade tried to drag him back.

“Wait. Now, just wait a minute,” Burrich remonstrated drunkenly. “Wait. Look. I only want to talk to him. That’s all.” The cluster of people surged down the hall, halted again. The guards were between Burrich and my door. Blade was clinging to Burrich’s arm. He still showed the marks from the brawl, and one of his arms was in a sling. He could do little to stop Burrich.

“Just get mine in before Regal gets his. That’s all. That’s all.” Burrich’s voice was deep and slurry with drink. “Come on. Just for a minute. What’s it going to matter anyway? He’s good as dead.” Another pause. “Look. I’ll make it worth your while. Look here.”

The guards were exchanging glances.

“Uh, Blade, you got any coin left?” Burrich was digging through his pouch, then snorted with disgust and upended it over his hand. Coins fell in a shower, spilling past his fingers. “Here, here.” There was the chink and rattle of coins dropped and rolling on the stone floor of the passageway and he flung his arms wide in a gesture of largesse.

“Hey, he doesn’t mean it, Burrich, you don’t bribe guards like that, you’re going to get yourself tossed in a cell, too.” Blade stooped hastily, making apologies as he hurried to gather up the spilled coins. The guards stooped alongside him and I saw a hand make a furtive trip from floor to pocket.