After that nothing else really mattered. Days went by, and I withdrew further into myself. Lord Morren still summoned me on a regular basis to drain my power, but I no longer dreaded those times. What other purpose did I have in my life? I no longer thought of escape. After all, I was useful here. This was where I belonged. Amelia tried from time to time to cheer me up, but I just couldn’t lift myself out of my depression. I couldn’t even say how long it had been since I’d smiled, let alone laughed or felt any kind of real happiness.

When Lord Morren began to make obvious preparations for some kind of journey, I didn’t pay any attention. Perhaps before I would have noticed every detail, looking for any piece of information that would help me get free, but now I just didn’t care. Where he was going or why I never found out. But the day came when he locked the door of the workroom and left. I’d wondered dully if Amelia and I might not be shut up in the dark for the whole duration of his journey, but she told me that he actually left the door open when he was gone, so that he wouldn’t have to leave the door key with a lesser slave.

“Jascin is the only one he trusts to unlock things, and he goes with Lord Morren everywhere. So when he’s on a trip, he leaves the door open. He’ll probably chain us to the wall though, so that we can’t get out. But I don’t mind. I like not having to worry about being shut in the dark.”

I no longer cared about the dark one way or the other. I didn’t care about anything. Amelia’s prediction proved correct, however, for a few minutes after Lord Morren had descended, Jascin came up with two sets of manacles in hand and chained us both to the wall. There was plenty of slack in the chains, we could both move freely about the room and even out onto the landing, but no further. Along with the purely physical restraint of cold iron, I felt some kind of spell settle in with the turning of the key. No doubt Lord Morren wanted to be sure we couldn’t escape in his absence. It didn’t make any difference to me. I wasn’t going anywhere.

The slave who brought us our meals came as usual, and after delivering our dinner he put out the light on the landing, so we were left in the darkness. It wasn’t quite as pitch black as it would have been with the door shut, but it was dark enough. I curled up on my pallet, trying to get comfortable. Having heavy shackles around your ankles can make it hard to sleep. I had a restless night, full of strange and disturbing dreams. So when I came half awake and saw the figure standing on the landing, at first I thought I was still dreaming. It was a woman. In the darkness I couldn’t make out her face, but I was sure I’d never seen her before. She crept silently across the landing. A tiny slit of light appeared, and I realized she was carrying a shuttered lantern. I also realized about then that I was awake and she was real.

Amelia turned over in her sleep with a soft mutter and the woman froze. Her attention had been fixed on the door to Lord Morren’s workroom, but now she looked in our direction. By the dim light of her lantern, I could make out her features better. She was of indeterminate age. Not old, but not young either. Her face was weathered and creased, and her eyes had deep crow’s feet at the corners, but her hair had no gray in it, and the lines had the look of laugh lines mostly. She was dressed all in black, and her hair seemed to be red, though in the dim light I might have been mistaken. At the moment her face had an almost comical expression of surprise on it. She took a step in our direction, raising the lantern. I gave up on sleep and sat up.

The thief, for so I assumed the woman must be, jumped, her eyes widening. Most likely she thought she’d been caught. Well, maybe most of the other slaves would have turned her in, but not me. “It’s all right,” I said in a soft whisper. “I’m not going to sound the alarm on you.”

Her expression was wary, but she crossed the space between us in a couple of quick steps, coming to stand in the doorway of my little cell. “Who are you?” she asked in a whisper.

“My name’s Ashen, I’m just another slave here.”

Her eyes narrowed. “I was told not to trust the slaves in this place, that they are all loyal to their master.”

I laughed softly, a harsh sound with little mirth in it. “Forced loyalty, but yes, most of Lord Morren’s slaves are very loyal. They have to be. These,” and I touched my serpent collar, “ensure it. If Lord Morren doesn’t reset the spell every couple of months the collar will gradually tighten until I choke to death. It’s a wonderful motivation.” My own collar was uncomfortably tight at the moment, though it wasn’t interfering with my breathing just yet. Lord Morren had last reset the spell almost five months ago.

“Then why won’t you turn me in? Why should I not simply put you out of your misery now?”

“Go ahead. I have nothing left to live for. And that’s why I don’t care about the collar. It doesn’t matter if I live or die.”

Her expression softened. “What does he do to you, that you don’t care about life?”

“It wasn’t Lord Morren.” I left it at that, though I could see a sudden curiosity kindle on her face. Then she opened her lantern a little bit more and shone the light on me directly. I squinted against the brightness. What was she doing?