The dense odor of damp rot drifting through Tyreth’s prison cell was a constant reminder that the once great city of Rozan was now only a place of death and decay. She tried tucking her hood tighter around her neck to retain her body heat, but she couldn’t stop shivering. Hunger gnawed at her stomach and judging by the meagre scraps that had been shoved under the door of her cell each cycle, there either wasn’t much food available, or else they simply didn’t care if she lived or died.

  High overhead on an outside wall, a small window let in the only light, a barely discernable glow from the purple moss the only vestige of the famous hanging gardens of Rozan. The ebb and flow of soft light from the clumps of moss was the only thing that gave even the slightest indication of the passing of time in this terrible place.

  As a child she had heard fantastic tales of Rozan and recalled a set of intricate tapestries depicting its beauty. In one panel, a young girl was soaring past the windows of a tower on a huge rantel. Her father had said it had happened a long time in the past and Tyreth had wondered what it would be like to fly freely over the city.

  She coughed, then quickly held her breath to force herself to stop. Coughing only made her ribs ache and her throat feel even more raw. Pulling the tattered blanket closer she lay back on the rags piled in the corner of her cell. She had never been this ill and that terrified her even more than the place itself. Was this what dying felt like?

  A creature squeaked and scurried out from below her bed, but she hardly noticed the smaller rodents anymore. When the guard would shove a dish of food under bars she had to move as quickly as she could, or the little beasts they called the tarken would drag the scraps into the hallway and out of reach. It was silent in the hallway now. The last delivery of food had two days ago, and now, even if they did bring her more to eat, she was too weak to get to the food ahead of the rodents. She didn’t even want to try as the last time she caught sight of a large gray tark, with its hairless leathery skin, in the cell across the hall. She never knew that such large tarks even existed. Was it because of the state of decay Rozan was in? What did they even eat? It had watched her closely until she moved back from the door. Was it waiting for her to die so it could eat her body?

  Tyreth dozed off and on before the sound of approaching footsteps roused her. She tried to get to her feet but could not find the strength and fell back in a fit of coughing.

  This time, the cell door creaked open. A light approached in the outstretched hand of a man in a long cloak. After setting his light on the high window ledge, he turned towards her, his face in shadow. Tyreth managed to push herself back against the wall. Why had he come inside and what did he want?

  He flipped his hood back, the light shining on curly hair.

  “Morgan?” Tyreth whispered hoarsely, “is that you?”

  “My name does not matter,” a man replied, but it wasn’t Morgan. “I’ve been listening to you coughing, and I have brought you something to eat.”

  He approached and knelt down beside her. Something heavy and warm was placed in her lap. Tyreth looked down and as he lifted the lid, his light in the window fell on a steaming bowl.

  The smell of a vegetable stew filled her nostrils and Tyreth tried to lift the bowl closer, but it was too heavy for her weakened arms.

  “Use this,” the man said, pressing a spoon into her hand.

  Tyreth leaned in over the bowl to avoid spilling, the aromatic steam wafting around her face.

  “It’s not much but our daily allotment is getting smaller.”

  Tyreth nodded. It was most likely his share of their daily meal. That kind gesture after so long alone in the dark cell overwhelmed her. Tears welled up and began to drip into the bowl. Closing her eyes she slumped back against the wall.

  “I’m sorry it had to come to this.” His soft voice brought even more tears as her shoulders convulsed with quiet sobs.

  He moved in closer, knelt at her side and picked up the bowl. “Let me help you so we don’t spill any.” Gently removing the spoon from her feeble grasp, the guard began to feed her. Tyreth could not hold back the tears. She had never felt this helpless, or grateful for another person’s concern.

  The warm food soothed her throat but too soon the spoon scraped the sides. “You’ll need to drink the rest,” the man said. The lip of the bowl touched her bottom lip, tipped up, and she began to drink what was left. One final solid piece from the bottom caught in her throat, she choked and coughed, sending the chunk flying across the cell. At a scabble of tarken claws, the guard jumped to his feet. Something squeaked and thumped against the far wall. “Filthy vermin. How can he expect us to keep living like this? Someone needs to cut kick him out of Rozan so we can make peace with Kadir and work together to save both our cities.”

  Returning, he leaned in close, tilted Tyreth’s head forward, and placed something soft behind her head. A sweet scent filled the air, reminding her of one of the soap balls in her shower stall at the palace. “Keep this close and the perfume will help keep the tarken at bay.”

  He tucked the blanked up around her chin, then touched the top of her head. “Get some rest, and I will see if I can find you something to drink. I’ll be back as soon as I can get away.” Retrieving his light, he locked the cell door behind himself and strode away down the hall.

  The room grew dark but now her stomach was full, her body was warmer, the perfumed pillow eased her breathing, but best of all, she had hope. Whoever this new person was, he wanted to help keep her alive. Morgan had promised in the chamber that he would come find her, but the chance of Morgan getting through to Rozan was slim, for she had seen firsthand how many Rozan guards were at the entrance of the passage from Kadir.

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  The purple strands of moss outside her window were no longer glowing, so it was already a night phase in the Cor. Would someone be at the chamber tonight? She had hidden her medallion under a loose flagging stone beneath her pallet of rags but so far, whenever she had tried to wear it, nothing had happened. Most likely her coughing was keeping her from sleeping deep enough to go to the chamber but now that she had eaten maybe she could sleep and find out if something might ad gone wrong with Kate. At the very least Kate should have been able to open the anteroom door and speak into her mind like she had at the rebel clearing.

  Feeling beneath the rags she slid the flagstone to one side and pulled the medallion out of a shallow depression. Looping it around her neck, she covered it with one hand and closed her eyes, but her mind was going in circles.

  What if Kate opened more of the doors and Jorad and Morgan were both there at the same time? No doubt there would be an argument, but Kate should be able to sort them out since they couldn’t leave their anterooms. Maybe she could get the two brothers to make amends and heal their longstanding bitterness towards each other. Most of that was jealousy on Jorad’s part as he was the one she had been closest to when they were growing up. That had become even more true after the death of Tarran, the report of Morgan’s death, and her father going in hiding. Jorad was the brother who took the most interest in her, but he also had a strong desire to rule over Kadir. He seemed quite conflicted most of the time.

  Morgan, on the other hand, appeared to be more complex, but at his core he had a singular focus, to be loyal to the people he cared about. As a child, she had played with Tarran and sometimes with Jorad in and around the place plaza. Morgan didn’t join in their games, but he was always in the background watching over them. When she had fallen on the plaza steps and skinned her knee, she had run to Morgan, not to Jorad or Tarran for help. Morgan was gentle and kind and she loved him for that. She turned those words over in her mind and found them clicking home. Did she love Morgan differently now? She had always appreciated him as a guardian, but those feelings had matured over time. Now she was looking to him more for companionship and affection. Even though he was older and had helped raise her, could he be her counterpart? Or was she just getting confused because of the loss of Tarran and the issues with own father? She shook her head. Now she was the conflicted one.

  Tyreth dozed off and on but each time she opened her eyes she found herself still inside the Rozan prison cell. It was no use. She breathed deeply and covered herself with the ragged blanket. It was time to rest and let things unfold.

  She had just drifted off when a brighter light appeared overhead. She had made it back to the chamber anteroom but there were angry voices from inside, a man was shouting, and a woman was crying out in pain. It was Kate! She listened carefully for more, but the anteroom light winked out and was replaced by a glow to one side.

  “I am sorry to wake you.” It was the voice of her kind guard and Tyreth looked up to see him kneeling beside her, his light ball lighting up his face. “You seemed to be having a bad dream. It happens a lot in the darkness of Rozan. It is no longer a good place.” He held out his light. “I was permitted to renew my globe so you can see better.”

  Tyreth looked at face. He was young, even younger that she was. He was smiling but his face was gaunt and his eyes sunken and creased with ongoing worries.

  “I brought you a piece of bread.” He held out the rounded end of a loaf. “It’s rather dry so I have brought you fresh water as well.” He gestured with the light ball, and she noticed a slender jug hanging over his fingers by its handle. “Clean water is the one thing that Rozan has plenty of.”

  He placed the jug beside her. “I find it helps to fill up on water before going to sleep so your growling stomach does not keep you awake. I would imagine it’s not something you ever had to do at the Kadir palace.”

  Kate shook her head. “But the city has been low on food since they shut down the gardens in Molakar and the outlying settlements.”

  “That was because of our raids and our soldiers stealing their food. I would imagine the leaders of Kadir decided it was better to let their own people go hungry if they could starve us out at the same time.”

  The guard put his light back on the window ledge and leaned against the wall. “Our leaders forget how important food is to the people they are supposed to be leading, especially when they always reserve the best of what is left for themselves. Does the palace in Kadir still have its own supply of food?”

  “When I was last there the palace pantry was full, and the cooks were able to create decent meals.”

  “Do they still make those small cakes with the red berry bits mixed in? Someone from Kadir gave me one when I was younger, best thing I ever tasted.”

  “I like those too,” Tyreth said. “If I could, I would bring some here for you and your friends to share.” She lifted the lump of bread she was nibbling on. “To thank you for sharing what you have with me. I know you don’t have to do it.”

  He shrugged. “My companions told me to not get involved or we could all get in trouble, but I have learned how to get by on half rations.” He pointed to the jug and smiled. “You just need to drink a lot of water.”

  Tyreth gave him a wan smile. “You are too kind. If I ever return to Kadir I will make sure you are properly thanked.”

  He grimaced. “I don’t think our leader has any thought of letting you return home. All he is wants is a counterpart to legitimize his claim to be the Cor-Van. He knows you are sick, and he won’t have his ceremony ruined so he is looking to see if there is anyone left in Rozan who fits the bill.”

  “So, he will just let me starve to death? I saw a pile of human bones in cell across the hall.”

  He nodded. “Nobody here cares to bury anyone anymore. Once they die, the tarken and the other scavengers move in and devour what is left of them. It happens quickly.”

  She looked at the open door. “If I could get escape from this cell and drag those bones in here and place them on these rags, would they believe I died and the tarken devoured my body?”

  He stroked the feathery whiskers on his chin a moment. “If I helped you to do that, and got you safely to Kadir, could you help us end this foolish war? Could you get your people working again in the settlements and bring peace to Rozan and Kadir so we would have food again, and hope for the future? I don’t want to die in his crazy plans to attack Kadir and I don’t want to kill anyone for him.” His eyes grew misty and as he fought back the tears and Tyreth realized just how young and afraid he was. Rozan was throwing anyone left in the city into one last-ditch effort to take over her home.

  “I would make sure of it personally. You have my word,” Tyreth said.

  He wiped a sleeve over his eyes, turned away and stepped quickly to the doorway. “There are two of the older soldiers I trust. I will speak to them and come back as soon as I can to let you know.” He saluted awkwardly, turned on his heel and vanished down the hall.

  Tyreth lay back against the wall as his footsteps faded away. There was no point in trying to save any of the bread or the small tarken would crawl over her body searching for it as she slept. Alternating between drinks of the fresh water she finished the loaf, set the jar aside and lay back on her matt, pulling the scented close to her face.

  She needed to get back to the chamber to find out what had happened to Kate.