He was propped up in a corner, a thick wad of fabric jammed between his teeth, presumably to stop him calling out or biting himself. His hair had been left to grow into a neglected tangle reaching halfway down his back, dirty and dark. Most of his face was covered by a thick growth of beard but what she could see of it appeared sunken, and the little of his limbs that were exposed were painfully thin. A strap of leather secured his head to the wall but she noted that his arms were no longer bound and wondered if he simply lacked the strength to use them, or whether Nidra had seen through her threat, and numbed sections of the man’s soul with her poison.

Pari wasn’t sure how long she stood there – trying to decide if she was still angry with this man, trying not to feel such crushing sorrow at the sight of him – but at some point he become aware of her attention.

Their eyes met.

‘Hello Rochant.’

She saw nothing of his usual spark, that subtle and sometimes mischievous intelligence. He’s broken, she thought sadly. It would have been much easier if he had been angry or defiant or smug. Pari shook her head. What a waste.

‘Would you like to talk?’

He raised his eyebrows, which Pari took for agreement and pulled the fabric from his mouth. She waited as he worked his jaw, running his tongue over cracked lips. ‘Pari,’ he rasped. Not a question, a statement.

He knows me. Of course he does. He knows me better than anyone.

‘Yes. I thought I’d come and see you. For old times’ sake.’

‘Do you have any … drink?’

‘Not to share with you, my dear. Those days are behind us. I’m not here to play, I’m here to talk.’ He didn’t say anything and she continued. ‘When I was last here, you said you could explain it all if I gave you the chance. You made it sound as if there might be some reasoning behind your madness. I don’t believe it for a second, but I’m nothing if not open minded, as you well know.’

‘You don’t sound open minded.’

‘If anyone could persuade me, it’s you.’

He looked disbelieving, but a little spark had returned, his features slightly more animated. Is that why I’m doing this? She wondered. Some desperate need to see that the man I admired is still in there, buried within the husk.

‘Will it make a difference?’ he asked.

‘If you’re asking me if I’ll release you or change my plans, the answer is no. You made this bed, my dear, thorns and all.’

‘Then why bother?’

Yes, what are you doing, Pari? ‘Oh you know me,’ she said, keeping her voice light, ‘I hate not knowing something.’