Tia pressed her upper back against the wall, quaking like a leaf, her face white as chalk.

The speaker was a girl a few years older than the Windcaster, sitting cross-legged on one of the chairs next to the door. She looked like a perfectly normal teen, with thick red-brown hair tied back, a flat nose, and full lips that were curved in a smile. Deep blue eyes stared with curiosity.

Tia's green eyes darted around the room for routes of escape. Sweat had broken out all over her body. The door to the left of the sitting girl was left ajar. She made to leap out of the bed, mentally readying herself to break into a run–

–and flopped like a doll on the bed.

Her legs were like jelly, shaking like a startled hare. What was left of her energy had drained almost entirely out of her body, which ached all over as though she had run for miles. Her breathing came in quick, desperate gasps. The world spun around her as her brain protested against the sudden movement.

"Relax," said the same voice. Tia could hear her getting up and padding over. Rough but careful hands grabbed her shoulder and turned her back over, and Tia found herself staring at those deep blue eyes. The hands patted her hair into place – far too close a gesture for comfort. "You're safe here."

Safe? Tia thought, incredulous, as her stomach did another somersault. She stared back at the flag hanging above the door, which had first caught her eye. She had hoped the clashing colours and the insignia were hallucinations, but no such luck. Her blood ran cold.

Gwent. She was in Gwent.

After fleeing for so many days from the bloodthirsty Mawlinese, she had narrowly escaped their clutches, from death, only to fall head-first into the grasp of another ruthless enemy of Dernexes.

Tia flinched as that hand brushed her fringe out of her eyes. Seeing the reaction, the girl withdrew at last, a frown on her heart-shaped face as she took a few steps back and tilted her head to the side as though observing Tia like a fascinating new pet.

Tia was terrified, despite the apparent lack of immediate threat. She had failed. She needed to escape from the Mawlinese and protect the book, and yet she fell into the trap of another enemy country.

The book!

With a cry of panic, she looked around, craning her neck left and right. Her hands skimmed the surface of the rough quilt covering her body, her fingers desperate to feel for the familiar thick, leather-bound tome. Green eyes darted around the room, hoping against hope that it was somewhere nearby, not in enemy hands, not being misused. Her throat began to close up again and she was struggling to breathe.

No, it wasn't on the bed. She sat up quickly and nearly blacked out from the dizziness that enveloped her.

"Hey, you're going to hurt yourself if you keep doing that." Concerned, the other girl stood up again, but didn't approach her. "What's wrong?"

Tia didn't reply. She flipped the covers and cast her eyes around the room again – but she couldn't see it. She flopped back onto the bed. Dead weighed on her chest like a rock.

"My tome..."Tia's voice broke. The girl blinked at her, confused, before realising what she meant.

"Oh, that book you had?" She pointed to the corner of the room.  Tia followed her gaze. Her eyes lit up as they fell upon the leather-bound Book of Wind, lying on the table in the corner. Her staff rested against the edge. "We didn't do anything to it. We picked you up and even though you were unconscious, you wouldn't let go. It must be something important, eh?"

"Very," she croaked, longing to run across the room and feel it in her hands again. It was still so vulnerable, lying across the room from her. "Many lives depend on it."

The girl's brow knitted together, but then she shrugged and moved over to the table, collecting the valuable artefact and the staff, handing it to Tia with surprising gentleness, considering how much heavy patting she had subjected her to in the past ten minutes.

Tia hugged the book to her chest, her heart palpitating, not taking her eyes off the other person as she settled again on the chair and crossed her legs in a rather undignified manner.

"Where... where am I?"

"Abaddon, the ancient city of Gwent."

She felt the remaining blood in her face drain away as she buried her face in her hands and moaned.

"Just kill me already," she said. "Why do you keep me here? You have the book. Take it."

The girl frowned again, but this time it was with confusion.

"How d'you–?"

"Sarpanit," came a man's voice from the door. Tia didn't look up; she curled herself into a tighter ball, wrapping her arms around her tome. "Can you bring our guest some hot food from the kitchen?"

There was a lengthy silence after the wooden door was closed with a snap and the girl's footsteps disappeared down the corridor.

"Grace," she heard the man murmur. She looked up, startled to hear a Dernexan blessing come from the mouth of a Gwentian. The speaker was middle-aged, with hair that was cut so short that at a glance, Tia couldn't tell if he was bald or not. He had a sincere smile on his thin lips. "My name is Nabu. I am one of King Lahar's advisors. You must be unused to our ways; Gwentians do not hold the same formal customs as Dernexans."

"Barbarians!" she blurted out before she could stop herself. She clapped a hand over her mouth, surprising even herself.  Fear and fatigue seemed to have driven her logic out of her head. She readied herself for physical punishment. The books always said Gwentians punish before hearing reason and readily kill friends and companions, didn't they? She certainly deserved no special treatment.

To her astonishment, the man didn't bat an eyelid. He merely clasped his hands in front of him. She bit her lip, torn between her desire to flee and giving the apology she knew she owed.

"Rest assured that you are in a safe environment. You will come to no harm here," he carried on as though she hadn't thrown the insult.

"But why?" she asked in a strangled voice. Her head started to feel light. "I'm a Dernexan. You have every right to–"

"When you have recovered sufficiently," the man interrupted, "I will take you to King Lahar; where you wish to go and what you wish to do after that will be at your discretion. These are instructions decided by the advisors."

"Wait," she said  as he turned to leave. He looked back again, his expression not unkind. "How... how long have I been here for?"

"Three days."

"Three–! " Her world spun again as she tried to sit up. Nabu held up a hand to calm her down.

"Please, you need to rest. Sarpanit will bring you food shortly. You need time to recover. You look like you've been through a war."

Tia couldn't help but flinch at the irony. Nabu noticed her reaction, his pale green eyes unblinking upon her face.

"Rest," he repeated. "I am sure you have many questions for us – as do we – but I shall save it for when your strength has returned. Rest assured no harm will come to you provided you comply with the laws of Gwent."

She eyed him, wary. She didn't realise barbarians would have laws. It was what civilised people have.

At that moment, the door behind him opened and the girl from before shuffled in, holding a wooden tray gingerly with both hands.

"I got food," she announced. Tia found her mannerisms jarring. A Dernexan servant would wait in silence by the door until bidden to approach; it appeared in Gwent broadcasting one's intentions was the norm. Sarpanit strode to Tia's bedside and laid the tray down next to her pillow, careful not to spill. Tia's stomach growled at the smell of the hot, fragranced food. "I added some herbs into it to help you recover. After a good night's sleep, you'll be much better."

Tia blinked. "You know medicine?" she said in surprise.

"I'm training to be a healer." The other girl winked at the Windcaster, but she didn't touch her again. She held out a hand. "I'm Sarpanit."

Tia hesitated before accepting it.

"Tiamat."

Her hand was pumped up and down with enthusiasm; those curious deep blue eyes appeared to find every aspect of her fascinating. Tia let go as soon as she could, feeling exposed under the scrutiny. She remained on edge; it must have showed, for Nabu gestured for Sarpanit to exit with him.

She ate as she was told, her mind blank, barely registering surprise at the mild tastiness of the Gwentian food.  The surrealism was a bit too much; her head began to ache. The door closed with a quiet snap and once again, she was left alone.