One woman slipped from a lowest bunk and approached me. She put a finger to her lips. “It’s lights out,” she whispered then pointed to the guards. “There’s an empty bunk on level five. We’ll talk tomorrow after supper.” She hurried back to her bed.

I climbed a thin corkscrew stairway, counting levels. Lanterns had been set into barred alcoves in the walls of the stairwell. They illuminated the steps while still being unreachable. Which meant I couldn’t use fire as a diversion.

No one on level five said a word or even moved when I entered. I found an empty bunk and lay down on the hard wood. No mattress, blanket, or pillow on mine or any of the other beds. Guess penitents didn’t deserve comforts.

I didn’t sleep that night. The guards tromped up the tower at various times, checking on us. They counted, too, making sure we were all there.

As the night wore on, a queasy lump swirled in my stomach. I’d been optimistic in our chances for success. Overly optimistic.

* * *

Morning arrived. Not in the usual way with the slow brightening of the light, but with the gruff voices of the guards, yelling at us to get our lazy asses out of bed. We filed out of the tower and down a corridor. None of the penitents spoke a word. Remembering what the woman had said last night about talking after supper, I kept silent.

We entered a dining room already half full of women. After going through the chow line to collect my breakfast—an unappetizing bowl of mush—I found an empty seat. My stomach almost revolted at the pulpy smell as I tried a mouthful. A gritty cold paste coated my tongue and tasted like a wad of wet parchment. Yuck. I pushed the bowl away.

The others at my table watched me in amusement as they shoveled the mush into their mouths. I scanned the faces of those around me, searching for Melina. The ages of the women ranged from sixteen to fifty years old. Some met my gaze, while others quickly looked away. And a few kept their attention fixed on their bowls of mush.

All wore the brown robes and most had dark stains down by their knees. Their long hair had either been braided, pulled back into a bun, or hung loose. No one had short hair. And no Melina, either. Did we eat in shifts? Or were there more dining rooms? Based on the size of this place, I guessed it had plenty of room for everyone to eat at one time.