After two days it became clear that the need to get out of the prison was urgent. Prisoners didn’t get any food. Rusk was feeling weak and spent after having done nothing but lie around and scheme. He banged his foot against the bars without any enthusiasm.

“Guard,” he called.

Gedresial sighed in the cell beside him. “They aren’t going to come. It’s not their job to wait on us.”

“Figures. I’m starving though.”

“Me too.”

“Any way out of here?”

“You do realize you’re in a prison, right?”

Rusk grumbled under his breath. He’d tried to reach into the Elva multiple times, of course, but it kept forsaking him. He didn’t know what to do. Feigning illness wouldn’t work if feigning hunger didn’t. Not that he was feigning. He really was hungry, but starving was a stretch. His hero training had prepared him for hunger at least. Long journeys with little supplies could do that.

The guard fidgeted.

And by a miraculous change in luck a roll of bread rolled right into Rusk’s cell. The guard had thrown it underhand like a bowling ball, and he stood there with pity in his eyes as he pretended to notice nothing awry.

With a smirk Rusk plucked the roll from the dirty stone slab of floor, ripped it in half, and slipped the other half to Gedresial.

Gedresial ate hungrily, wincing between bites. Sometimes he’d let out a pathetic whining noise that sounded like his lungs weren’t obeying him, and that made Rusk nervous for his health. He still didn’t know what the necromancer had actually done to the guy.

“How you feeling?” asked Rusk.

Gedresial rubbed at his chest. Then when he realized Rusk couldn’t see he cleared his throat and answered verbally. “Not dead or anything. Thankfully. Might be later.”

That was not very comforting to Rusk. But he didn’t press the issue. Instead he eyeballed the guard. Why help them? Why? The guy wouldn’t have offered a bread roll out of nowhere. Surely there would be a price, some sort of bargain.

“So why are you helping us?” asked Rusk, always with the direct approach.

The guard remained silent for a time, but then suddenly, as if realizing himself to be alone in the room with the prisoners, crouched down to sit on his haunches with his spear pointed up toward the ceiling rested upon his shoulder. He studied Rusk with glimmering eyes behind the slits of his armored mask.

“Well?”

Gedresial refocused his attention too.

Rusk ripped off a bit of bread and put it in his mouth. He chewed, staring down the guard.

“I had a friend in here once. You two remind me of her.”

“Her?”

“Oh,” said Gedresial. “That kind of friend.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Sure it wasn’t.”

The guard sighed. Was it Rusk’s imagination, or did he sort of slink back a little bit into the wall? Was that shame? That was shame. Rusk decided that was shame. So it was guilt that edged the guard to help them.

How boring a motive.

But hey, Rusk would take boring over no motive at all. It made the help that was offered less suspicious.

“What was her name?” asked Rusk.

“Iraiah.”

Didn’t ring any bells.

“She was a sneak.”

Sneak. That rang bells. Didn’t Etoile or Loretta or Felix mention something about a sneak? Of course there was no telling if it were the same one, or even if that sneak was still alive. Or even aware of Rusk’s situation. Not to mention the whole nobody knows a sneak’s motives thing. In the back of his mind Rusk wondered if he might be getting a little paranoid, being cooped up in here with barely any stimulation.

And after only a few days.

Pathetic.

He’d trust the guard for now, until proven otherwise.

“I’ve heard of Iraiah,” said Gedresial. “There were rumors she was friends with that merchant in Capital Square.”

Merchant? Rusk for no reason whatsoever as far as he himself could discern started paying better attention.

“Yeah,” said the guard. “Mandy. Has the best bows and arrows in all the land. Custom made my tunic too.”

Rusk forced his eyes not to widen too far. If he let down Mandy’s cover just because he happened to know her, he didn’t know how he or the King or the guard would handle it. He pretended to know nothing, as much as it pained his heart. “Sounds like a lovely lady.”

“Oh she is.” The guard got this lilt in his voice. Admiration. And a little bit more. “Gorgeous too.”

That twist in Rusk’s heart was hammering.

“Too bad she doesn’t like men,” said Gedresial in good humor.

“A true tragedy,” said the guard.

Doesn’t like men. Well, it’s not like that was all that surprising to Rusk. But that knife was twisting deeper in his gut. If Mandy was involved, then he really, really, really needed to get out of here.

That’s it.

He was getting out of here.

If this guard was friends with Mandy’s friend, there was a chance Rusk could convince him to join the cause. Usurping the king from within his kingdom would definitely put some reins on his reign.

“So this sneak. You were friends with her.” Rusk swallowed the last morsel of bread, and realized with dismay that he was still very hungry. He didn’t ask for more. “Why?”

The guard looked through those slits and scrutinized him before answering. “She gave me information once, on the king.”

Not King Ehrryn. The king. It was rare for a guard to refer to the king they served by title alone. Even Rusk with his forest territory origins knew that much about his home country. That settled it.

This guard had no respect for his ruler.

Perfect.

He could trust this guy.

“I know Mandy,” said Rusk. “Grew up with her.”

Gedresial’s fingers curled through the bars. Plus the tip of his nose. He was trying to turn toward the conversation and not doing a very good job of it. He eventually gave up with a tiny childlike sound of disapproval for the lack of results and sat back on the floor.

“Did you now?” said the guard. “Seems to me you might be right where you need to be then.”

“Explain.”

The guard smiled. There was an opening to show the teeth. “Iraiah’s been known to sneak past even the king’s top security.”

From the ventilation shaft at the top of the cell, a jangling of keys could be heard.

Rusk would know that noise anywhere. Mandy’s keys.