A pair of dirty feet attached to dirty legs stopped so close to the tiny window Raymer could have reached out and grabbed them. He couldn’t see who the feet belonged to, but the legs looked like a young boy who carried a sack made of course material. The boy tripped—or seemed to. Red apples spilled from the sack and fell to the ground. Apples like Raymer had not seen or tasted in a year. Any fresh fruit or vegetable had been scarce in the dungeon, and he had missed his meal the day before. At least twenty apples lay in the dirt. A boy wearing a gray striped shirt with a hood pulled low over his brow bent to retrieve them.
The boy flicked his heel and an apple flew between the bars and fell to the floor of Raymer’s cell with a dull thud. A meal beyond worth. Raymer was so stunned that he didn’t move to gather it. He held onto the bars and watched the apple lying on his cell floor with a sense of awe. The boy moved quickly to gather the rest of his apples. His toe sent another rolling inside the bars. Raymer caught it. The boy scooped the rest of the apples into the bag and stood.
A third apple still lay on the ground within reach of Raymer.
The hooded figure moved off in a hurry. Raymer managed to lunge and grab the apple before he slipped and fell down to the rock floor, his hand cradling the last apple protectively. Three apples. A treasure for a prisoner who spent most days hungry.
To anyone watching, the boy had simply tripped, and a couple of apples fell inside if they saw that much. What they probably saw was the boy retrieving his apples as fast as possible, and left one behind in his haste. Just an accident.
“Hey Quint, you won’t believe what just happened.”
“You grew a third eye?”
“No, but that’s a better guess than you’d think. I have three apples.”
“Now you’ve gone and planted a damn apple tree in your cell and grew yourself some apples without telling me?”
“No, I was looking outside, and a fruit seller spilled a bag.”
Quint’s voice sounded closer, which meant he’d moved to the edge of his cell. Raymer said, “Lay down and reach your arm out to me as far as you can.”
“Wait a while. The guard is due back.”
As if he heard them, the young guard strode around the corner of the hallway that led to the stairs with a swagger of a new guard. He paused at the iron cuffs and chains they removed from new prisoners before throwing the prisoners into the cells. They now hung on the wall pegs. He glanced at the two occupied cells. “Quint, why are you looking at me that way?”
“I was just wondering. Do you own any pretty dresses?”
“You’ve been here way too long. The word is, you’re gonna die in that cell and never see me or anyone else in a dress unless it’s outside that little window of yours.”
“A man can dream, can’t he?”
“As long as he’s not got me wearing a dress in those dreams,” the guard laughed. He continued on his rounds and disappeared as he went to inspect the cells on the floor above. Dungeon guards who sat or slept found themselves locked in cells, as they well knew.
“I got my hand outstretched,” Quint hissed.
Raymer dived to the floor near the wall that separated them and held out his hand to meet Quint’s. He felt Quint’s fingers and carefully passed an apple to him. After standing, he moved to the hay he slept on. He shoved the sour remnants of dirty hay with his toe. He scooped it into a bed almost as thick as his little finger and laid down, facing away from the guard.
When he returned, Raymer didn’t want him seeing the apples. If the guard discovered them, they might brick up the window. He held both of them near his middle, too scared to take a bite, but savoring the anticipation.
Footsteps of the single guard on duty approached and retreated. Raymer raised one apple to his nose and sniffed, his eyes closed as he took in the faint scent. He bit into the apple and rolled his eyes at the myriad of flavors, smells and conflicting tastes of sour and sweet.
The bite transported him from the cell back to his childhood. The Dragon Clan had planted apple trees as they traveled for as long as anyone could remember. The seeds of any apple eaten were cherished, dried, and carefully planted, not always along roads or even traveled paths. He remembered eating apples near his home, and he remembered carrying the seeds for days in his pocket until he found an appropriate place to plant them.
In his mind’s eye, he saw those seeds he’d sown had sprouted and grown into tall, strong trees. The apples he held in his hand might well have come from one of the trees he or one of his ancestors had planted. He took another bite, a very small one, and allowed his mind to wander far from the cell.
“Hey Raymer, I take back half the awful things I’ve said about you.”
“One apple is worth all that?” Raymer chuckled.
“You kept two for yourself, right?” his voice sounded concerned.
“Yes.”
“Tell me again how you got them.”
“A boy was carrying a bag of apples passed the window of my cell. He spilled the bag, and somehow his foot kicked one into the window.”
“I can see that happening by accident. But you got three?”
“Yes, it’s strange. He accidentally kicked another my way. Then he had all of them picked up but one he left by the window. And then, he took off running. I reached out and grabbed it.” Raymer took another bite and chewed while waiting for a reply that didn’t come for some time.
The apple Raymer savored and lingered over was almost gone when Quint spoke again. “I can see an apple accidentally falling into your cell the way you said the first one did.”
“I know. But, the second is too hard to believe, let alone the third.”
“I’ve been thinking. The apple vendor did it on purpose. You have a friend on the outside.”
“That’s what I’m thinking, too.”
Raymer listened for Quint to add to the conversation, but instead heard him begin snoring. Still, the idea of three apples falling into his possession hadn’t happened in a year. Could it really have been on purpose? Did his family know where he was and were they helping him? No words had passed between him and the apple peddler, let alone an exchange of eye contact. Still, such an amazing coincidence as three apples falling into his hands was impossible to comprehend.
Raymer finished the apple, eating the core last. He set the seeds on the window ledge to dry, as was the custom of his people. Hopefully, at some time in the future, he would be free to plant them. He eyed the other apple and carefully hid it from the guards by covering it with a handful of straw.
He had a lot of thinking to do.
If the apples were a gift, and he believed they were, because what else could it signify? Since apples are special to his family, it must have been a message.
He went back to the window and watched for the legs of the boy to reappear while he planned his escape with renewed vigor.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Dungeon Master did not fit into the world of the depths, stink, and torture, but returned today for the second time. He wore a matching forest green vest, jacket and trousers, and even his thin boots echoed the rich green color and design. His hair was neatly tied behind his head with a green ribbon. Raymer noted every detail of the Dungeon Master for future consideration.