Page 20 of Vasmora

“I have. He was very kind.”

In the small glow he’d created, the same black dress I’d worn for days spread filthy and tattered over my legs, hardly covering my ankles. A layer of dirt and grime coated my skin, caked thick beneath my nails.

The Golvyn’s heavy brow lowered, and he chewed again, the loud crunch of the carapace crinkling my nose. “The secret is chewing them fast, before they can multiply in your mouth. They usually only come out when something’s dead.”

“Well, I’m certainly not dead.”

“Certainly not Mancer, either. You smell a bit fruity.” Another bug darted toward me, and he lunged toward it, nabbing the coin-sized beetle before it reached my leg. “Oranges, maybe. Or starshade.”

“I’m mortal.”

The Golvyn jumped back a step with a gasp. “Diseased?”

“No!” I scoffed. “Though, you’re the one scavenging for bugs.”

“It’s not that I want to eat them. I’m only being chivalrous, but if you’d prefer–”

“No. I’m sorry, I meant no insult. I have a cut that hasn’t been cleaned.” Except, touching my finger to my cheek found no such cut, and I frowned. “It was there a few days ago.”

“Regardless, it explains the bugs. Mortals die a little each day.” Shrugging, he popped a handful of discarded shells into his mouth. “You’re practically at the end of your life.”

I scowled. “I am quite far from the end of my life.”

His bushy brows shot up. “How long do you live?”

Groaning, I shook my head. “Look, I’ve been through this. I know those of you on this side of the wall live long, never-ending lives. I’m only saying, it’s a bit premature for the bugs to begin feeding on me.”

“If you say so.” While he crunched away at another bug, I stole the opportunity to glance around the cell, noticing the thick, iron entrance beyond the length of my chain, through which I vaguely recalled having been thrown by the captain. Thick, stone walls held brown, rusty water stains and streaks of ruddy brown–what I guessed to be old blood. Manacles dangled from the ceiling, fastened by long chains as if ominously awaiting their next victim. The chain at my ankle had been attached to a post that stuck out of the floor, the stones around it chipped as if someone had once tried to remove it.

I trailed my gaze past the Golvyn to behind me, where a wooden door, half the size of the entrance on the opposite wall, stood hidden in the shadows–one I hadn’t seen before. “Where does it go?” I asked, glancing back in time to see the Golvyn casually bite the head off one of the bugs and send a squirt of green goo down his face.

“Don’t know.”

“I thought Golvyns lived within the walls? Could access any room.”

“Golvyns before me tunneled the walls in this place. But they didn’t tunnel that way.”

“Can you?”

“Don’t want to.”

“Why?”

“I suspect there’s a good reason it hasn’t been tunneled.”

I turned back toward it, twice as curious as before. “But … it could lead to a way out?”

“Why would I want to leave?”

“Well, I’d like to leave.”

“Then, tunnel yourself out.” He nodded toward my clawed hand. “Bet those would chip away the stone quite well.”

I scraped my clawed fingers across the stone, and tiny zaps of pain, like lightning at my fingertips, sent a vibration up into my arm. “Ouch! Damn it!”

“That’s a shame. Those would make quite a useful weapon. Nice little key, even.”

Breath shot out of me, and I scrambled toward the door and gave the knob a shake. It remained tight, as if locked, refusing to budge. From the light still burning from behind, I searched for a lock, patting my hand over the wood and iron. “There isn’t one. How is it locked with no locking mechanism?”