‘How?’ Aliz whimpered.

‘Any way we can!’ Silence. ‘We have to try. Are your hands free?’

‘No.’

Finree managed to worm her way across the floor, dress sliding over the dirt until her back hit the wall, grunting with the effort. She shifted herself along, fingertips brushing crumbling plaster, damp stone.

‘Are you there?’ squeaked Aliz.

‘Where else would I be?’

‘What are you doing?’

‘Trying to get my hands free.’ Something tugged at Finree’s waist, cloth ripped. She wormed her shoulder blades up the wall, following the caught material with her fingers. A rusted bracket. She rubbed away the flakes between finger and thumb, felt a jagged point underneath, a sudden surge of hope. She pulled her wrists apart, struggling to find the metal with the cords that held them.

‘If you get your hands free, what then?’ came Aliz’ shrill voice.

‘Get yours free,’ grunted Finree through gritted teeth. ‘Then feet.’

‘Then what? What about the door? There’ll be guards, won’t there? Where are we? What do we do if—’

‘I don’t know!’ She forced her voice down. ‘I don’t know. One battle at a time.’ Sawing away at the bracket. ‘One battle at a—’ Her hand slipped and she lurched back, felt the metal leave a burning cut down her arm.

‘Ah!’

‘What?’

‘Cut myself. Nothing. Don’t worry.’

‘Don’t worry? We’ve been captured by the Northmen! Savages! Did you see—’

‘Don’t worry about the cut, I meant! And yes, I saw it all.’ And she had to concentrate on what she could change. Whether her hands were free or not was challenge enough. Her legs were burning from holding her up against the wall, she could feel the greasy wetness of blood on her fingers, of sweat on her face. Her head was pounding, agony in her neck with every movement of her shoulders. She wriggled the cord against that piece of rusted metal, back and forward, back and forward, grunting with frustration. ‘Damn, bloody— Ah!’

Like that it came free. She dragged her blindfold off and tossed it away. She could hardly see more without it. Chinks of light around the door, between the planks. Cracked walls glistening with damp, floor scattered with muddy straw. Aliz was kneeling a stride or two away, dress covered in dirt, bound hands limp in her lap.

Finree jumped over to her, since her ankles were still tied, and knelt down. She tugged off Aliz’ blindfold, took both of her hands and pressed them in hers. Spoke slowly, looking her right in her pink-rimmed eyes. ‘We will escape. We must. We will.’ Aliz nodded, mouth twisting into a desperately hopeful smile for a moment. Finree peered down at her wrists, numb fingertips tugging at the knots, tongue pressed between her teeth as she prised at them with her broken nails—

‘How does he know I have them?’ Finree went cold. Or even colder. A voice, speaking Northern, and heavy footsteps, coming closer. She felt Aliz frozen in the dark, not even breathing.