Jander doesn’t speak, but I don’t know if it’s because he’s shy or because he’s mute. I realize I haven’t heard him talk at all to anyone.
“So, how long have you been here?” I ask him. He just shrugs. I try again. “My name’s . . . Shadow,” I say, holding out my hand. I don’t want to start out by lying to him. He hesitates but then shakes my hand weakly before going back to shoveling.
By the time we finish, my clothes are almost completely dry. Things could have gone differently this morning—I’ll have to be a lot more careful from now on. If I’m caught, not only will I lose the opportunity to rescue Caledon and get to the Guild, I’ll face charges of trespassing, forgery, and treason—all punishable by death.
We each take a wheelbarrow full of manure and push it out to the gardens. I see a few prisoners wandering the gated castle yard and try to see if Caledon is among them. I don’t see him. They all look bigger and older than he is.
“An hour a day,” a guard says. He noticed me looking. I hadn’t even seen him standing by the fence. “We’re not barbarians.”
I nod. Did disapproval show on my face? I stop myself from telling him that I never accused him of such. The less I talk to anyone, the better.
We dump the wheelbarrows and head back to the stable for another load. When we return to the garden, the prisoners are gone. I need to find a way to warn Caledon about the Montrician prisoner.
The rest of the first day isn’t too awful; Jander leaves me to go do whatever else he does, and I avoid the pack of stable boys— especially their leader, who I discovered is named Luce—and keep busy weeding the gardens. As long as I look occupied, nobody bothers with me. I look for a way to snoop inside but can’t find an excuse to go into the building.
When the sun starts to set, I hide in some bushes behind the stable buildings and wait, the wool horse blanket keeping me warm. I don’t want to go to bed until the rest of them do. I wonder if there’s someplace better I can sleep. But the only options I can think of don’t sound any safer than staying where I am.
The final beam of sunlight disappears over the horizon when the truth dawns on me that I didn’t think this plan through. I hadn’t considered exactly how dangerous Deersia is. On some level, I suppose I knew, but it wasn’t until actually getting here that I realized it will be near impossible to get out again. The road down the mountain will be bad enough without a posse of armed prison guards chasing us. I have to think of a way to find Caledon, release him, and leave without being detected, which means we’ll need a long head start. So we’ll have to leave at night. That solves one of the three problems, but not the other two.
I don’t have much time to figure this out either. The longer I’m here, the greater the chance I’m going to be exposed. Lessons with my aunts never included acting—I have barely a clue about how to seem like a boy. And soon I’ll have a fourth problem on my hands—what my aunts liked to call “Deia’s monthly gift.” I have supplies but it’s better if I’m not here when it starts. Tomorrow, I need to focus solely on finding Caledon.
Once I hear the boys snoring in the barn loft, I go in and find a dark corner to curl up in. I toss all night, worried that Luce will get up before I do. But I’m determined to get outside in the morning before anyone has a chance to douse me with water again.
When I get up, it’s still dark, closer to night than day. I go behind the stable into the tall grasses and squat down, listening for anyone nearby. The boys relieve themselves wherever and whenever, but obviously that’s a problem for me.
I sneak out of the grass and go to the water pump to splash some water on my face. I don’t have a tooth stick or even a clean cloth to wipe the fuzz that’s accumulated on my teeth. I’ve never felt so grimy in my life. I’ve always had access to fresh baths and mint pastes to freshen my mouth, and though I didn’t grow up with dressing maids and fancy silks, I guess I’m more accustomed to certain comforts than I realized. I cup my hands and swish some water around in my mouth, spit it out into the grass. That relieves the worst of my dry mouth but doesn’t take away from the dirty, itchy sensation that’s spread all over me, from my scalp to my feet.
Then again, the dirt and stench probably help with my disguise anyway, so perhaps it’s not such a bad thing after all. Stable hands are hardly squeaky clean.
The others are up now and dressed for the day, walking up to the castle to get food in the dining hall. Guards eat first, then servants. That’s the usual way of it. My stomach growls. I didn’t eat at all yesterday. I don’t want to go in with Luce and his crew, but I can’t skip another meal. I let the pack disappear inside before I follow. Hopefully, they’ll grab their food, eat quickly, and be on their way out before I even sit down.
I turn at the sound of footsteps behind me. It’s Jander. He stops walking when I look at him. “It’s okay,” I say, waving him toward me. I stand there and wait. He joins me on the path. His gentle nature is an unexpected surprise here at the prison. I’m not sure what to say to him, so I decide to stick to yes or no questions. “Hungry?”
He nods. Now we’re getting somewhere. “You like it here?” I ask him. He shrugs. “Have you been here long?” I try. He shrugs again. His timidity reminds me of the stray dog who started coming around the farm one summer. It was clear the dog had been abused—the evidence was all over him—so he was desperate for affection but also distrustful. Eventually he came around, though, once he knew we weren’t going to hurt him. Maybe Jander is like that, too.
I try once more. “They mean to you?” I say quietly. This time he doesn’t respond right away, but then he nods. How awful. “How old are you?” I ask, but he just shrugs again in response. A terrible thought occurs to me. “Do . . . do you know how old you are?” I say. He shakes his head. I don’t want to push any more, so I stop asking questions.
We get inside and walk to the dining hall, which seems to be one of the only rooms still being used for its original purpose. There’s a queue for food. At the front, two men are doling out bowls of porridge with bread.
We get in line. Luce is already sitting at a table with a few of his minions; the others are getting their food. They haven’t noticed us yet. But when they do, it happens quickly.
Luce knocks Jander’s porridge bowl, spilling it to the floor.
Without thinking, I lunge at Luce. His eyes widen as I knock into him, slamming him to the ground. He gains the upper hand quickly, flipping me over so he’s on top of me. He punches me in the side of my face. I try to knee him in the groin, but someone pulls him off me. I sit up, scrambling backward. My shirt is torn, almost exposing the wrap. I try to hold it closed.
The guard who pulled Luce off me is the same one who escorted the Montrician spy the day before. He’s scolding him: “I told you! Leave that boy alone!” The guard lets him go and turns to me. “I knew you’d be trouble,” he says. “Let’s go. You’re coming with me.”