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?

he Castellan came to tell me that I will work at the mines.  At the end of summer, he will send me to Fogreach to hire another two or three smith to repair the equipment.  We will live at the mines for some time, perhaps until winter.

I do not think that I will enjoy returning to the mines.  When I last was there, I was nearly buried in a rockfall.  But more than that, my home is here in Cannaghdown.

I spoke of this to Lady Dalla today, who has been very kind to me since my master died.

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.

hat becomes of the soul left in darkness? Does it wither to a shade, a delirious, wasted spirit joined to a forever midnight, like a spirit of the dead joined to an old ash tree?

What will become of me?

My rat friend has dropped his playing. He no longer nips at my feet. Instead, he bites at places less easy to defend. The backs of my legs. The meaty part of my arm, just below the shoulder. I hope to dissuade him with half of my meal, which will come soon. It is only coarse and smelly bread, anyway.

When I do find rest, it is in a fitful half-sleep. My dreams are vivid and often unpleasant. Shortly after my imprisonment, I began to feel a presence as I slumbered, but now I know that it is more than just a dream-thing. It is as if a deeper dark stands over me, like a shadow cast upward from some lowly sun. It’s not something I can see, for I can see nothing. But it’s there.