4. Cell

Tash gave up staring through the tiny, barred window set in the cell door and whirled to face Séa. "By the gods, why did they have to strip us?"

Contrary to the rogue's choice of word, the pair wore identical roughspun robes. The primitive garments itched. Tash's covered her well enough, but Séa's hands and bare feet poked out well beyond the hems.

The paladin considered. "If they had been us, we would have."

"Of course! We're professionals." Tash gestured to indicate herself.

Séa's forehead wrinkled and she stared quizzically at Tash in the gloom of the cold cell. The paladin leaned against the warmth-sucking brick wall. If she attempted to stand up straight she would crush her skull, being a handspan taller than the low ceiling. Loose straw, apparently to be construed as a bed, lay scattered upon the cobblestone floor. A stinky hole lurked in the far corner.

The paladin's mystified stare continued. The rogue huffed a jet of air from her nose. "See, castle guards are supposed to be bumbling and stupid. And also poor fighters, so that we professionals can run rings around them."

The paladin's forehead stayed wrinkled. "What's a professional?"

"A person who is paid to be an expert at a particular skill."

Séa blinked owlishly. "Paid?"

Tash groaned. "Cloistered crazy woman. I keep forgetting you never use money, so never mind. I meant that we have skills. We're more like masters than apprentices."

An adoring smile lit Séa's bland features. "Well, you are. You've been lots of places and done lots of things. I just barely graduated from the priory."

Tash answered, "You're a prodigy. Different category." She peered through the cell door window again. "But here comes — oh, help — I think it's a meal."

The pale paladin blanched even whiter.

Outside, a guard jammed a lit torch into an empty bracket, then shoved a metal tray under the door. The few-inch gap between cobblestones and the door's iron frame admitted the tray and two stubby tin cups.

"Slide the things back out when you're done," the female guard said. "If you don't, then you don't eat or drink again until everything's returned. Clear?"

Tash released a pent up flood of verbiage. "Why are we here? Who was killed? This is a total sham. We've only been in the city a day, and we sure didn't kill anybody. We need to speak to a magister, as is proper. This is civilization, not some orc camp. We're citizens. We— Shit, she's gone."

5. Cell

The cell languished in complete darkness much of the time. The torches in the corridor outside sputtered out, but the guards seldom relit them. The pitch black accentuated the pervasive chill of the subterranean prison. They spent the bulk of their time wrapped in each other's embrace, but only secondarily for the sake of romance. The omnipresent chill drove them to share each other's body heat.

Even the loquacious Séa ran out of things to say as time stretched. The reason for their imprisonment provided the most fruitful grist for speculation.

"I guess we have to trust the lawyers," Séa said.

Tash mimicked a retching sound. "I'm not sure they're taking their own ballsucking laws seriously. I have a writ of pardon, remember? The King pardoned all my past crimes, if any, specifically including murder, theft, and assault. And yet, here we are."

"I wonder who was murdered?"

Silence stretched. The cold damp seeped through their skins and into their bones.

Séa cleared her throat. "So, we can't trust lawyers?"

"Definitely not."

Another dozen heartbeats passed wordlessly.

"Tash, if they forget about us, and you start starving, you can eat me to stay alive."

The rogue shuddered. "Godswallow, crazy woman! What put that in your head?"

"I'm only thinking ahead," Séa said. "I would gladly give of my flesh for you."

"You mean, your life. I'd never eat you alive."

"I suppose I do." The paladin shrugged. "I know you like the taste of my blood."

"You're delicious," Tash said. "But, woman, stop talking like this. It's weird and ghastly, this self-sacrifice notion. I'm a rogue. Rogues don't sacrifice themselves like paladins do. Rogues arrange it so they're the last ones standing. You have to take care of yourself because nobody else is going to give a feck."

"I'm glad we've got the order straightened out," Séa said. "I'm the first to go if my sacrifice can aid you."

Tash bit her words off in a choppy growl. "Fine, if that's what you want. I'm not sacrificing myself for a complete lunatic like you, that's for sure."

"You just want me to change the subject."

"Too right I do."

6. Cell

"Hey, Tash, teach me some rogue moves."

"Eh?"

"Like dodging and rolling and ending up on your feet like a cat and stuff."

"Séa, I—"

"Oh, come on! I'm bored and so are you."

"Gracious. All right, silly. Where to begin? Maybe getting up? Suppose you are knocked down. A rogue has a few ways to get back to their feet and accelerate in an unexpected direction. So let's see if you can do the splits."

"Splits? Sounds naughty."

"Hush. Plop your butt down. Stick one leg forward. Extend the other back. Use your arms for balance."

Séa scrabbled in the straw and emitted grunts. "Like this?"

"Well, yes, but spread your legs. All the way."

"This is all the way."

"No, no. Spread 'em."

"Eeeooowwww. No, not possible."

"Maybe not today. But you'll get there if you practice."

7. Cell

"Tash?"

"Mm?"

"I'm hungry."

8. Cell

"Séa?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Teach me to pray."

"You hear me pray all the time. That's all there is."

"What do you mean, that's all there is? You speak so earnestly and fluently and it's like poetry. Can you feel Torugg when you pray? I only started worshipping Giasleppi, if worship's the right word for it, last week. Like, literally, last week."

"Wull, gee, Tash. I'm not sure it's all that fraught. I mean, no, I can't feel Torugg when I pray, so I just let him know I'm still here, still trying, still following. I think sometimes that I'm constantly asking for help, and I wonder if I'm bothering him. Giasleppi's the Trickster, so maybe she would be better pleased if," Séa speech slowed as her thoughts deepened, "you dedicated your punch lines to her. Or thanked her for an idea for a practical joke. Or asked for inspiration."

"Huh." Tash mulled that over for a minute. "Very wise, Séa. And it makes me conclude something."

"What?"

"That I can pray to get out of this prison. There's no humor, here. This is where jokes go to die. It's the humor death zone. Only if I escape can I spread Giasleppi's joy."

"That must be true, dear. But be careful, or the next thing you know you'll slip into becoming a theologian." Séa's voice dropped as if tense with fear. "You'll start wearing academic robes and pontificating and become a terrible bore."

Tash blew air through loose lips to emulate the passing of gas.

Séa giggled.

A minute later, the rogue poked Séa in the arm.

"Yes?"

"Have you thought about conflicts of interest?" Intensity sharpened Tash's voice. A side effect of her danger-filled history was that she could pivot from mischievous glee to dire tension in a split second.

"Um. What?"

"Well, suppose I want to do a thing for Séa but Giasleppi wants something else."

It was a pitch-black period. No sights could be seen, and the only sounds were the melodies of their voices and occasional rat scrabblings. The paladin said, "I'm not sure that would ever come up. Gods like people, just as surely as demons hate them. So your god wants you to be happy and your god wants you to be playful."

The rogue grunted. "All right. Maybe. I mean, if the Lord Mayor was giving a speech, Giasleppi would probably love it if I cut his suspenders so his pants fell down."

Séa snickered. "That would be funny."

"But I don't think I'd want your pants to fall down in public."

The paladin paused to consider. "And you think Giasleppi would?"

"Um."

Séa pursued the logic. "What makes the mayor prank funny is that he's pompous and the pants falling down is ridiculous. I'm just sort of ditzy or whatever, so where's the fun in tricking me? I'll fall for anything."

"Fine," said Tash. "I'll settle for making your pants fall down in private."

"Ha! Like that's hard."

9. Cell

Pants and grunts woke Tash. Her return to consciousness made her newly aware of the chill that permeated her skin and muscles to take up permanent residence in her very bones. The rounded floor stones had pressed numb divots into her hips and shoulders. Pain flared when she attempted to move.

A warm shadow that smelled like Séa shuffled and huffed in the other half of the tiny cell. Its vigorous movements stirred the air. Even Tash's keen half-elven eyes could not discern details. The blurry motions seemed a wild dance involving both arms and legs. The warrior's breath whistled in and out of her lungs as the energetic activity, whatever it was, continued.

"What are you doing?" moaned Tash.

"Aww, sorry to wake you. I'm doing my calisthenics."

Tash rubbed at a stiff shoulder and repeated the strange word. "Calisthenics?"

"Some of them, anyway. Can't jump or I'll smack my head."

"Oh, yeah. That ritual you do every morning." The rogue's lips curled in a lopsided arc. "Somehow, it never occurred to me you'd do them in here."

"I'm trying, anyway," Séa said between pants.

"You're enduring like the one-eyed god."

"Aww, that's so sweet of you, Tash!" Séa ceased her push-ups for a moment and mashed Tash in a strong, warm, and distinctly sweaty hug.

The rogue mumbled, "And disciplined of you. I'm duly impressed."

Séa went back to work.

Tash rolled over to her other side and closed her eyes. No power in Celestia or the Abyss could force her to such insanity.

10. Cell

"You know, Séa, you could aim to hit the hole a little better."

"I'm sorry. I try."

A subtle quiver in Séa's voice drove Tash to gather her up in a hug. The rogue pressed against the paladin's warm chest and murmured, "I know you do. I apologize. This cell is starting to get to me. How many meals, now? Seven? Do you think they're feeding us twice a day or just once? We should start making marks on the wall or something." Her hands balled up into fists. "By the gods, my fingernails need trimming, now! I'm not sure how much longer I can take this."

As if in answer, the air crackled. A patch of gas in the center of the cell condensed into moving color.

"What the feck?" Tash said.

The disturbance focused into dry lips surrounded by whitish hairs. The mouth parts floated otherwise disembodied. The lips parted, revealing age-snaggled teeth and hints of a tongue. An aged voice wheezed, "Lady Séa and, I presume, Lady Tash. I beg of you, listen and do not speak because this is a one-way sending."

"Ghomarck!" Séa's eyes sparked, and her eyebrows lifted.

"Please drop what you are doing," the magic mouth continued, "and come to Ompex."

Tash blew a raspberry and muttered, "Drop what we're doing, indeed."

Ghomarck's voice wheezed on, "There is trouble afoot that requires your special skills. The high wizard has been murdered. A powerful but evil artifact might be on the loose. The wizard council has been dispersed and chased out of Ompex. I fear I am in danger of being arrested. It's madness! But I digress. There is an inn at town's edge called the Shaggy Rabbit. I will be there tonight and each subsequent night if I possibly can. Meet me there."

A tight, avid expression crept upon Tash's features. Séa absorbed the words placidly.

The floating lips kept moving. "Again, your particular talents are most urgently needed, and the rendezvous is at the sign of the Shaggy Rabbit."

As the voice quieted, the mouth fuzzed into nothingness.

A grin stretched Tash's lips. "If nothing else, this proves that when he really needs to, Ghomarck can get to the point without a half hour of digression."

Séa rubbed a few fingers around her temples. "Well, we're in Ompex, anyway. Right in the middle, somewhere in the belly of Jagged Keep, Citadel of Kings."

"Beneath the belly, I'd say. More like its smelly arse." Tash's grin persisted. "But now we know some things."

"Right. Shagging Rabbits and whatnot." The paladin halfheartedly nodded in the affirmative.

Tash guffawed. "More than that. Firstly, palace intrigue. I will bet you six weeks of sex that, as it stands, we will never be fairly tried. We're here under false pretenses. Obviously, we didn't murder the high wizard. We've never met him or her and we don't even know their name. They don't dare have a trial. We'll stay here until we rot or until they secretly kill us."

"Oh." Horror crept over Séa's face. "Torugg preserve us." Her posture crumpled.

Tash slipped to her side and kissed her cheek. "Poor Séa. I know it's hard when your bedrock shifts, but you must understand and face the knowledge squarely. You and I are outlaws, now. I've been before, but you've never."

"How could I? I'd never break a law!" Her lower lip quivered.

"Shh, dear one. There's a reason, and it's my 'secondly.' Secondly, demons."

Séa blinked and perked up. "Demons?"

"I will bet you six more weeks of sex that Ghomarck's 'particular talents' refers to your talents with demons." Tash arched a half-elven eyebrow. "So he knows, or, at least, suspects, that demons are at the heart of this so-called intrigue."

"Demons." Séa's eyes glinted and her back straightened.

"That's my girl." Tash laughed sunnily. "So we need to escape and meet Ghomarck."

"At the Rabbit Shack."

"Shaggy Rabbit."

"Yes, that. But we can't. Can't escape." Séa glanced at Tash's smug face. The paladin narrowed her eyes. "Right?"

The rogue's eyebrows danced, and her eyes sparkled. "Let's find out."