Reign of Shadows - Deborah Chester [112]
The Penestricans had been kind but aloof, making no effort to treat her. She had been given a room to herself, very small. Eight paces in both directions. That hardly mattered; she was used to nothing else. The walls were stone but rough. She had explored them by touch and knew they were natural rock, not dressed blocks. She suspected she was in a cave. It was very dry and warm, however. A small hole—too small to crawl through—cut high in one wall brought her fresh air from outside.
Thus, she could smell damp and know if it was raining outside. Warm, sun-freshened air meant daytime. Cool air meant evening.
She had a stool and small table, a narrow cot, and a shelf to hold a lamp she did not need. No one ever came to light it. Her only contact with other human beings was three times a day, when food and fresh water were brought and her necessity pail taken away for cleaning.
Everything was clean.
Three times a week, she was led down a narrow passageway, placed in a corner, and doused with water. Her attendant would then swathe her in a rough towel and dry her while she shivered and gasped. She would be led back to her cell. Nothing was ever said to her, even if she asked questions.
Her clothes had been taken away, reminding her strangely of her dream where she had kissed the mysterious lover and Hecati had walked in her dream. She had no dreams now, only her thoughts chasing endlessly around and around in her brain.
To be kept naked at first had seemed the greatest un- kindness of all. She felt totally vulnerable and dependent, and she had hated them for treating her with this silent indifference.
In retaliation she had trained herself not to cringe or try to cover herself whenever someone came to her room. Finally indifference became a habit, not a pose. She stopped caring, almost, and it ceased to be a torture. After all, she was in a place entirely of women. There were never any male voices, never any male scents. Sometimes, in the stillness of what she assumed was night, she could hear far- distant chanting echoing through the passageways.
It was always faint, but some element in it disturbed her and made her restless. She would get up and pace, back and forth, counting her steps so as not to bump into the walls, until the chanting would finally fade away altogether.
Idleness and boredom were the hardest elements to endure. She found herself wishing Bixia would visit, even if only once, to tell her she’d not been forgotten. But it was a stupid wish, an absurd wish. Elandra was angry at herself for even hoping for something like that. Bixia was busy being trained and prepared. She probably had no time for anything else. Even so, Elandra knew Bixia was too selfish to come even if she had the opportunity.
Elandra tried to stay grateful to the Penestricans for notturning her out as a cripple. After all, she could not be married like this.
As always, Hecati had defeated her.
All her life Elandra had tried to bury her own dreams and ambitions, to never allow herself high expectations under the guise of being practical. Without expectations, disappointments hurt less. But for a few short days during her journey here, she had allowed herself to dream of what life might bring her. Never had she imagined this fate.
The shock in her lingered deep.
She had never been an introspective person, but her confinement forced herself to explore her own mind. She examined the kind of person she had been until now. She thought about the kind of person she was becoming.
Not a self-pitier. She still had enough pride to hold herself together.
Weakness and dependence were abhorrent to her. She wanted to ask the Penestricans to train her