“Thanks!” she called, but they had already gone.
That realization, that cold hard truth, that they had left her so easily – and that, in doing so, she was truly alone in this dark hole – bit into her. No more answers to her questions. No more gentle assurances that this was all a part of protocol and would be over soon. No, she was on her own, left to wait out her time until she’d considered what she’d done and decided it wasn’t worth this particular flavor of punishment.
But she didn’t agree with that. If she hadn’t stabbed that man he’d have throttled her to death. He should have been the one shoved in this yawning grave, not her. Lankal seemed to agree with her actions. She wasn’t even a real criminal, not really. Skies above, she’d been a watch-captain most of her adult life, and a watcher before that. They couldn’t know about her past as a prize fighter and, even if they did, everything she’d done then had been above board. Clean. Legal. They couldn’t punish her for that.
Couldn’t leave her to rot for it.
She caught herself pacing, her steps small and controlled, her hands gesticulating to the empty air as she worked through these thoughts. With a slow, deep, breath she consciously released the tension that had knotted her whole body. Forced herself to relax, concentrated on the thunder of her heart until it’d calmed to a reasonable rate.
She’d only been alone a few moments, and yet the isolation had clutched her fears tight. Didn’t help that she’d never been a fan of small spaces.
Rubbing her hands together to hide their tremble, she sat with her back against the wall, head tipped up so she could see what little there was of the sky. A storm was blowing in, she was sure of it. Maybe they’d pull her out early. But they’d have to put her back in later, and it was those first few moments that’d been the worst. That she hoped would continue to be the worst.
She forced herself to think of her tasks. Of finding Radu’s competition, of flushing out Nouli before Detan arrived. With the storm threatening, she had no doubt he’d be along soon. No one wanted to get caught out over the Endless Sea when monsoon season struck.
Sometime, during the rambling of her thoughts, her exhausted body gave up, and she sunk into a deep, well-needed rest.
A rock struck her on the head, waking her up.
“Hey,” a soft woman’s voice whispered from above. “You up?”
Ripka groaned and dragged her hands through her hair, blinking at the renewed vision of the prison walling her in. She wished, deeply, that whoever had woken her had left her alone to rest. Unless they were hauling her up because rain was coming.
The very thought jolted Ripka to her feet. She glared at the sky, fearing blackened clouds and the first brush of droplets, but saw only a clear stretch of pale blue with the silhouette of a woman’s head outlined against it. By the poof and curl of the woman’s hair, it was either Honey or Kisser. Unless someone else with similar looks had decided to pay her a visit.
“Who’s there?”
A snort-laugh. “Kisser, obviously. Came to see how our sparrow was doing in her new nest.”
“It’s a little drab. Could do with some curtains, or a flower arrangement.”
“Didn’t peg you as the decorating type.”
“I’m not.”
“Ah. Jokes to stay sane. I can understand that. You got enough water? Sometimes they short the bag.”
Ripka swallowed, the paper-dry rasp of her throat stinging from the motion. How long had she been asleep? Her neck felt swollen, pudgy. She gave the side of it an experimental poke and winced. Not a good idea. Groggy from her nap, she fumbled around on the mossy ground until she found the waterskin. Popping the cap off, she gave it an exploratory sniff. Didn’t seem spoiled, or drugged, and that was all she could ask for, really. Carefully, she doled out a few drops onto her tongue and swallowed. It burned going down, but she knew her body needed it.
“Should last me. How long have I been down here?”
“Three or four marks, I should think. Pulling your hair out and screaming at the sky yet?”
Ripka laughed, and regretted the sting in her throat. “Truth be told, Kisser, you woke me up.”
“Damn, girl,” she whistled low. “Heart of stone in you. Not many can take a catnap in the well.”
Now that her eyes had adjusted to the dim light, she could make out the scratch marks along the walls in detail. Most were marks of time, and many stick figure sex scenes, but some… Some were pleas for help. Mad ramblings. And there were those claw marks, like some poor soul had tried to dig their way out. She wondered how many of the insane were stuck down here, simply because the guards didn’t know what to do with their outbursts.
Dark stains smeared the grey stone around her. Many looked like palm smears. She tipped her head up and focused on Kisser’s eclipsing face instead.
“Not many are as exhausted as I am by the time they get down here. What are you doing over here, anyway? Isn’t it work detail?”
The dark shadow of Kisser’s hand blurred over the blue sky like a streaking bird as she brushed away Ripka’s question. “They’re burning lime for fertilizer, and I’ve got sensitive lungs.” She coughed, and Ripka shook her head at the fakeness of the sound. “So they sent me to do my daily wander about the island. Good for my lungs, all that light exercise, you understand.”
Ripka pursed her lips. She wasn’t fool enough to complain about the lack of oversight from the guards, but their incompetence niggled at her. She’d been in Kisser’s company a sum of two marks, being generous, and already she’d determined the woman was faking illness to be let off the prison’s leash.
“You got a lot of freedom,” she ventured.
“My parents are silk mercers, all the way back in Valathea. I’m no flight risk – everyone here knows I’ve come to keep my head down, do my time, and get back home to the family business.”
“Lotta money in silk,” Ripka said, unable to hide the bitter tang to her words. She carried no doubt that Kisser’s family was bribing the officials here to allow their child special freedoms. If Ripka’d been warden, she’d have dumped any guard caught taking such a bribe in this blasted well.
Kisser laughed. “True enough. But that’s not why I came to see you.”
“I’d wondered. For someone interested in keeping her head down, you’re sure willing to get tangled up with a troublesome new intake.”
“I know what I’m about,” Kisser snapped. Ripka tensed, wondering if she’d pushed her too far. After a few beats of strained silence, Kisser said, “Anyway. I know you’re hurting. Can’t do anything for you now, but once you’re out, I can take you to see Uncle. He’s curious about you, and your handsome friend.”
“Uncle?”
“The man who can get you what you need, understand?”
“Yes… I think I do. Thank you.” Ripka’s mind was awhirl with possibilities, strategies. If this man were the connection to the outside smuggling, then she’d have to walk a fine line. She’d have to pretend progress to Radu while keeping him off the scent that she’d discovered the source. She couldn’t blow her contacts with Kisser and the other girls so soon. A betrayal now, before she found Nouli and was certain of Detan’s impending rescue, could leave her without any allies to leverage. Or worse, completely exposed if the whim struck Radu.
“Good. And no need for thanks, we look after our own.” Which meant Ripka would owe Kisser one pits-deep favor. Kisser’s head disappeared from above the well and she slapped her hand on the top of the wall, the meaty thump echoing around Ripka. “Oh, and Captain?”