“It doesn’t sound absurd at all,” Sinna said. “In fact, it sounds rather wonderful.” She looked right at Cainan. “You were right. Her Ability has already manifested itself, rather spectacularly by the sounds of it.”

“What are you talking about? What Ability? It’s just an odd thing I can do.”

Cainan smiled at her for the first time without feeling awkward about doing so. “It is odd. Luckily, we’re odd people too.”

At first, her expression remained neutral, but then she broke out into a huge grin. “I can’t tell you how wonderful it is to hear you say that. The last time I told someone about my—what did you call it?—oh yes, Ability, I was almost arrested for being a witch. That’s the truth. That’s why I’m living out here all by myself.”

“I’m glad you escaped,” Cainan said.

“Cora,” Sinna cut in, “by chance have you ever consumed a bit of a golden, glowing liquid before?”

“Like…honey?”

“Sort of, except more vibrant. You’d know it if you saw it.”

“I—I don’t think so.”

“Curious.”

“What is?”

“Nothing for you to concern yourself with. Now we must be off, but never fear, we’ll return in a few days to talk more.”

“Farewell, I look forward to your next visit. Please take a few scones with you.” She efficiently bundled up the baked goods into a cloth, which she tied at the top and handed to Cainan, who half-bowed. “Oh, and just one more question, for you, Sinna.” Cainan’s partner turned back, eyebrows raised in interest. “How did you know my little rat friend chewed off his own leg?”

Sinna smiled. “Because I know a survivor when I see one. That’s what I am, too.”

“You’d chew off your own leg to save yourself?”

“Wouldn’t you?” Leaving that question hanging in the air, Sinna whirled about and strode through the doorway.

“I’m sorry about her,” Cainan said. “She can be…a lot sometimes.”

“Actually, I think she’s just the right amount. And, for the record, I would chew off my own leg to save myself. Because I’m a survivor too. I hope we meet again, Cainan.”

Cainan pushed his body off the slime-covered stones, muscles quivering as sweat dripped from his brow. Just another inch and he’d be able to lock his elbows… What was left of his strength abandoned him and he slammed to the unforgiving floor.

At first, his training routine had been part of a rational plan to not let himself wither away into nothing while he was confined in Comman Dur. Then, at some point during the first five years of his incarceration, it became something to do to break up the endless hours of boredom. Now, it had become a struggle, because though his body had become rail-thin, he simply wasn’t getting enough sustenance to maintain his strength. Supplementing the plain, meager diet provided to him by his jailors with whatever foul insects and rodents he could catch with his bare hands had worked for a time, but as his energy had flagged, he’d become less successful as a hunter.