Kane
“Stop lying!” General Rotia snarled. “I know you’re part of the rebellion.”
“No, you don’t, because I’m not,” Kane said from his chair, preparing himself to tell his carefully practiced story of who he was.
Rotia grabbed him by his shirt and lifted him so they were face-to-face. Kane’s feet strained as he tried to stand on tip-toes. Her breath was hot in his face, “How else would you have known about the map?”
“I don’t know about your map.” Kane tried to breathe conviction into his next words, “I’m telling you, I was only on that ship because I thought there would be money. I’m a thief, not a rebel.”
“It means the same thing, boy.”
“No, it doesn’t!” Kane gasped, his collar digging into the back of his neck. “A thief doesn’t have ulterior motives. Those rebels do.”
“And what are their motives?”
“Crushing Carellia and seizing power for themselves. It says so,” he wheezed. “On all the wanted posters.”
Rotia loosened her grip on Kane’s shirt slightly and he was able to stand properly.
He added, “the difference between them and me is that I’m willing to work for Carellia.”
Rotia snorted, “And what would you do, clean the latrines?”
“I’m a thief,” he said as if that explained everything.
“Not a very good one. The only thing of value on that ship was stolen from right under your nose,” Rotia said. “I have no desire to hire a dauvish thief whose loyalty shifts with gold. Especially not one who was caught stealing from me.”
“I never actually stole anything.”
“You are not helping your case.” She was calmer now, almost indifferent. “No, I need your information, not your services.”
“I don’t see why I should give it to you.”
General Rotia looked down at him, her face hard. “You will give it to me because you don’t want to be hanged at sunrise tomorrow morning.”
“Fine. What do you want to know?”
“Your accomplice. He knew about the map.”
“If you’re talking about the other thief, she wasn’t my accomplice. But yes, I assume she knew about the map. It was the only thing she took, as far as I could tell.”
“She was a woman? You saw her face?”
“Yeah, I saw her face. I didn’t know there were rebels that young. I thought they were all older. She was probably the same age as me.”
“She was a rebel then?”
“I assume so,” Kane shrugged. “You said only a rebel would know about your map.”
General Rotia looked thoughtful, but not completely disbelieving. “Could you describe her?”
“Well, she was dauvish. Taller than me, I’d say. And she had curly hair. That’s all I could see. It was dark. I’m surprised the patrol didn’t catch her. She must not have been in the town.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, they searched the whole place, didn’t they? But they didn’t search the boats. If I was hiding from the patrol, that’s where I’d go.”
Kane had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but Rotia looked thoughtful. Kane wondered if the thief had escaped by boat. If so, he had no idea where to start looking for her or the map. They’d been so close to getting it and now, because of him, they’d have to start all over. He’d really messed things up.
“Give him to the guards to lock up,” General Rotia said to Gustov, pulling a pencil out of her graying blond braid. “I need time to think. You and your crew will stay at the fort until I decide what to do with you.”
Night had fallen and the hallway outside the library was dark. The main corridors of Fort Goranhall were better taken care of than the back passageway Gustov had used to sneak them in, but it was still the worse for wear. The carpets were worn and lanterns hung only every so often on the walls. The hallway was empty except for the guards in front of the library door. Kane stumbled between Gustov and Erika, his eyes watering from exhaustion. The hallway faded in and out of the darkness. He didn’t know how long they walked. It seemed like ages.
Gustov shoved him through a doorway and his eyes opened with a snap.
“Captain Gustov,” said the guard at the door in surprise. “We weren’t sure if you were coming back.”
“I live to see another day,” Gustov said, stepping into the moonlight.
The guard squinted at Gustov’s crew, who were filing out after their captain. “I don’t suppose you left the general in peace as she asked?”
“Important business. Couldn’t wait until morning. We have a prisoner for you.”
The guard shook his head in amazement as he took Kane’s chain from Gustov.
Gustov grinned, “Well, I’ve got to get my crew some food. Can you handle the prisoner?”
He nodded, still amused. “Goodnight, Sir.”
Kane let himself be led under the firm grip of the guard. He was too tired to protest.
The entrance to the prison was in a small building next to the wall of the fort. The guard led him down a steep, almost pitch-black staircase. At the bottom, it opened up in a hallway lined with cells. The room stank and its closeness to the river made it damp and cold. The icy air washed over Kane as he stumbled past huddled clusters of prisoners. Almost all the cells were full. At the very end of the room, the guard stopped at a cell half the size of the others, with a solid wooden door instead of bars. He unlocked it and opened the door.
“In you go.”
The door closed behind Kane with a clang. Kane stumbled in the ankle-deep mud. The cell was narrow and nearly pitch black. All he could make out were shadows. Something moved. He looked up. His eyes hadn’t fully adjusted to the dark, but he could see the shape of someone standing towards the back of the cell.
“Who’s there?” He couldn’t keep the quiver out of his voice, both from cold and fear.
“Hey, don’t worry. I’m not going to ambush you.” She sounded familiar. “I’m Esti.”
“Oh! It’s you!” He swayed where he stood, a wave of tiredness hitting him. “You were…on the prison cart.”
“Are you alright?” Her voice was closer.
“I’m fine.” He tried to move, but stumbled. His shackles held his arms awkwardly behind his back.
“You’re caught,” Esti said. “Here, let me help you.” She bent down and tugged the chain where it was stuck. “Don’t pull against me, I can’t unhook you if you do that.”
“You’re the one who’s pulling.”
“Step towards the door to give it some slack. There you go.” Esti straightened and brushed the mud off the chain. The end that wasn’t binding Kane’s wrists had another handcuff attached to it. She inspected the cuff. “You know, this isn’t a complicated lock. If the ones on your wrists are the same, I might be able to get it off for you.”
“Really?”
Esti nodded. “It’s drier on that side. We can sit over there and I’ll work on it.”
Kane followed her to the back of the cell. It was darker there, but the floor was hard and less muddy. Esti sat them down next to her sleeping father.
“Is…is he alright?” Kane whispered.
“He’ll be okay,” She looked down at her father, brows knitting. “So long as I get him out soon. Turn around so I can work on the shackles.” She pulled a pin out of her hair and brandished it like a sword.
“Careful!” Kane yelped. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Don’t worry,” she grinned, seeming glad to have something to do. “I’ve done it before.”
“If you say so.”
Kane turned around, still wary, and Esti began to pick the lock. It was an awkward position with both hands behind his back, but he tried to be patient with the constant tugging on his wrists. It reminded him of back home when he was little, and Jamal had tried to scrub his hair. Jamal was always the one who’d taken care of those sorts of things before Kane learned to do them himself. His mother was nearly always too busy; having meetings and talking with important people.
“That’s the first one,” Esti said. She freed his wrist and Kane sighed in relief, shaking out his arm to get the blood circulating again.
“You have no idea how good it feels to have my hands more than a foot apart,” he said, laughing. More seriously he added, “Thank you.”
“Of course. Here, give me your other hand and I’ll do the next one.” As she started to pick the lock, she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Oh! I’m Kane. Sorry.”
She laughed. “That’s okay.”
He watched her jiggle the hairpin in the lock, twisting it from left to right. He closed his eyes, leaning his head on his free hand. “Do you know why we’re the only ones in this cell? The rest looked full.”
“I think this is the high-security cell. For potential rebels.”
“You’re a potential rebel?”
“You heard my father on the cart, didn’t you? He was caught stealing from the patrol camp.”
Kane chose not to mention that stealing food wasn’t usually a reason to be arrested as a potential rebel. Instead, he asked, “But you weren’t caught? Then why are you here?”
“I couldn’t let him go alone. Our family has already been separated enough.”
“That’s…very brave of you.”
“Or stupid,” she sighed, pushing her dark hair out of her face. “I didn’t have time to think of a better plan.”
Kane shrugged. “My brother used to say that no plan is stupid until you look back on it. And then there’s almost always a better solution. But you can’t blame yourself for not seeing it at the time.”
“He sounds very philosophical,” Esti said, lifting Kane’s wrist to get a better angle on the lock. There was a click and it sprang open.
Kane shook his hand out. “He was philosophical sometimes. But most of the time he was getting everyone into trouble by daring them to climb roofs or something. He was kind of a natural leader, but he liked pranks. It drove our mother crazy.” He yawned, remembering how tired he was.
“Did you sleep on the cart ride?” Esti asked. Kane realized she’d been studying him.
“No.”
“You look exhausted, you should try to rest.”
Kane shrugged and lay down on the cold dirt. He was exhausted, but he didn’t think he could sleep. There was too much to think about, what with his failure to get the map and the fact that he was in a Carellian prison. There was no way he’d fall asleep with everything on his — Kane’s eyes closed and he drifted off before he could finish his thought.
The Lighthouse 