n the past week, I have three regular visitors to my workshop. Temilla and Dalla are two, and they seem as little more than apparitions to me. They come and go as they please, and although they speak comforting words, those words do not touch me. They seem distant, not in demeanor, for they are both very kind, but in how I see them. Temilla brought me a tea to help with my recent sloth, and at least the taste of the bitter drink brings me closer to the present.

I sleep later now. I think that my sleep is troubled, but I remember very little when I wake, so I cannot be sure.

I chanced upon Fina two days ago. She glanced around nervously, but as we were in a quiet western hall of the castle, on a morning in which few were about, she walked with me for a while. She reassured me that she was feeling well, cured by Dalbach of any enchantment. She questioned me about my own health. When I showed her some of the scabbed-over wounds, she gasped. I told her not to worry, that I had ministered to them properly, and they would soon be just a bad memory. It took valuable minutes for me to convince her to stop fussing over me (although I enjoyed the attention), but finally we talked of other things. We gossiped about Sir Gavann, and worried over the Duke’s fate, and what would happen if he could not return to arbitrate Gavann’s claim. Too soon, we had to part. But in out last moments alone, she stroked my cheek and kissed my forehead, and I was cheered.

I still miss her such that it pains me. However, talking to her has helped me regain some of my vigor. My imprisonment has affected me more than I’d like to admit, I think. I’d even forgotten the magical surprise that I had planned for Goran. It’s time I returned to that.

ast night I dreamed of chains and darkness and snarling rats, so all is not completely well. However, morning came and banished those evil memories, at least for a while. To wake up to sunlight is a gift that I will not take for granted for some time. A new robe, and a warm bed; these are good things as well.

People eye me warily. Some ward themselves when I enter a room. Their crude gestures hold little real power, but they still inflict me with shame. To avoid them, I have buried myself in my work, which is thankfully still mine to do. It helps. But it also heightens a sense of separateness, of being alone. I remind myself that Goran is my friend, and the spirit in the dungeon. And Fina….

There creeps a true worry. I have not seen Fina since my release. Goran says she has recovered, but warns me not go to her. It is good advice… but not what I need right now. I dare not blatantly disregard it…. However, I find myself occasionally wandering halls that are out of my way, hoping to chance upon her.

The halls are often empty, as many have gone to war, including Karl and my brother. Surely, she has not gone as well. Where could she be?

t last.  I have fretted for many days, but Ivar has been freed.

Sir Harry returned to Cannaghdown yesterday.  Today he summoned me.

“Goran, when we last we spoke, you offered surety for Ivar.  If you still wish to do so, I will order Ivar to be held no longer.”

“I haven’t found enough men to stand surety,” I objected.

“No matter,” Sir Harholm said, and he pressed his lips together.  “I have spoken with Lady Fina, who assures me no assault or other indignities were committed upon her person.  She was walking by herself and fell into a deep swoon.  Your friend, Ivar, happened—”—I could hear a tinge of scorn in his voice—”—to come along, and it seems he stayed by her side to protect her from beasts and outlaws.”

I said nothing, for it was clear that Sir Harholm did not believe Fina’s lies.  But I saw immediately that if Sir Harholm divined the truth, that Fina and Ivar are lovers, then he must also admit that no crime was committed.

“Ivar is free?” I said, and hope widened my eyes.

t is dark here, and the floor leaches the heat from my body. My shoes have been taken, and my torn robe gives me little warmth. My manacles are heavy and the metal jagged with rust and long age. I share my cell with scraps of bone, and the nests and refuse of rats.

I never should have brought Fina to my father’s grave. That night, I ran until I was exhausted, and still pushed myself. Temilla gave me a potion and a salve, which I took to Fina. I waited by her side until morning, but even with the medicines, she did not wake from her slumber. Oh, how terrible was that waiting. But it was not as bad as here, where I not only worry over Fina’s fate, but my own as well.

It was shortly after sunrise that the duke’s men found us. They accused me of defiling her, both with magic, and by raping her. Spirits, I know how it must have looked. They beat me and dragged me back to the castle.

It is not easy to sleep. As soon as my eyes close, a touch on my foot or a rustle by my ear wakes me. I felt pinching teeth on my leg, as if one of the rats was teasing me. I kicked it, and felt the kick connect. It scrabbled, but my kick sent it out of my cubby and tumbling down the vertical shaft of the catacombs. It gained me a short respite.