Raya woke up that morning feeling as stale and sore as she had for weeks. At least she wasn’t ill anymore. She passed the time by reading the third book from her bookshelf—the only one she hadn’t finished or ruined by tearing out pages for secret messages.
The book she read this week was a history of the settlements along Radregar’s North Shore. It posited a few theories for why none had yet developed into a major city, and then provided a record of existing or abandoned settlements on the savanna. She flipped forward to see if her home was listed there, but it wasn’t far enough north.
White-Eye brought her a meal around noon again. This time it was a small serving of beans and a piece of flat, dry cornbread. The old man’s gaunt features softened with a smile and a slight nod when he passed her the tray. Then he was gone, of course. They had barely spoken—the guards made sure of that. White-Eye’s job was only to deliver food to the prisoners.
But that nod meant something. Raya hurriedly slid the tray onto the shelf. She flipped the cornbread onto the beans and uncovered a folded scrap of parchment beneath it. Another note. She read it quickly, and immediately lost all appetite.
Ramas had lied to her. Saring’s latest note confirmed it. Raya clenched it in her fist as she sank onto the bed. She was done believing any of them. Lotha, Axar, Ramas… did even Saring have her best interests at heart? He had done nothing to cause suspicion, but the rest of the world had. Raya should never have left Olston.
Saring’s sad letter told her that the war for Ith was done. The Delivered had been cut asunder, their ranks fading into the hiding places of Massed Alley, and their leadership massacred. Only two of their leaders lived, now in the captivity of the City Watch. The Advisory ruled Ith now.
What was worse was how it was done. Saring told her that two men had killed the ex-slave council that led the Delivered. One magician and one swordsman had acted on the authority of Ramas to infiltrate and destroy the Delivered. Axar. The scheming magician had done everything he had wanted to do. He had proven his skill to Ramas—his ability to manipulate and corrupt any organization he entered. With Raya and the slain criminal, Domeran, as his test run, Axar had put his real skills to use and brought the Delivered grovelling to Ramas’ doorstep.
Raya set the ill tidings ablaze and watch the smoke rise with clenched teeth and a furrowed brow. How could Ramas trust someone like Axar? Would he not betray the City Watch itself in due time?
Ramas had urged Raya to be patient until the struggle for the rule of Ith was done. Then he would free her. Now, with weeks past since the fall of the Delivered, he had not so much as sent a message for Raya. She only hoped that his other words had held some shred of truth, for he had said that in the new age of peace they might be able to reform the City Watch. He had spoken of instating laws to keep the peace, not exploit the unprotected and unfortunate.
In either case, Raya could no longer count on Ramas getting her out of this cell. Saring was her only hope. She gently tore another page from the books in her prison cell and began another note to her friend on the outside. She had only written, “I need out of here,” when she ran out of words. She had nothing else to contribute now. She didn’t even know if Saring would ever come through for her. The date of his alleged prison-transfer plan was approaching in a few weeks. She would learn the truth then.
She burned her own words this time and leaned back in her bed. “I need out of here,” she muttered out loud. She dug her fingers into her messy, sweaty hair, and tried not to weep.