Rhoa eased the sickroom door open. The children were all sleeping, the baby in her cradle by the hearth, Sarrie and her little brother snuggled up together in the cot next to Gran. Gran still hadn't moved, and Phane was pale and sweating, but they were both breathing. That was all she could hope for.

Silently, Rhoa closed the door, then tiptoed down the stairs. She had already been to the armory and Tettony's apothecary pantry. Her next stop was the Alchemy Room. When she had everything she needed, she shouldered her crossbow and made the trek down to the dungeon.

The Vanguard was lying on his back in the center of the cell floor, staring up at the ceiling, and for one, dull heartbeat, Rhoa almost thought he must have come in contact with the Rot too and now she really was alone.

Then he let his head loll in her direction, dark eyes glittering as that devilish grin appeared.

She released a slightly crazed little laugh, then brought her crossbow up. He was alive, so first things first. "On your feet, Vanguard."

He sighed, but then got up. "Your wish is my command, Keeper's Daugh—"

"Turn around. Hands behind your head, palms together," she said, unlocking the door.

"Well this is new," he muttered, slowly doing as ordered.

She approached with care, keeping the crossbow trained on him as she shook a length of linen cord loose from the pocket of her tunic. "I'm going to tie your hands. If you so much as twitch, I'll bolt you to the wall."

There wasn't any sarcastic remark this time as she reached up and made quick work of binding his wrists together. "Don't move," she hissed when he shifted his weight, but he only relaxed one leg, cocking those lean hips to one side.

Almost there. Taking a breath, she backed out of the cell, cast a glance over the machine beside the door that controlled the chains strung from the ceiling, and flipped the lever that let down the stretching hook.

The Vanguard didn't say anything when she came back in and slipped the hook between his forearms. He still hadn't said anything when she went back out and began working the lifting lever, ratcheting his arms up above his head till he was nearly suspended from the ceiling by the cord binding his hands.

Next she released the counterweight on his shackles, sending his ankle chains racing into their holes at opposite ends of the floor until he was forced to separate his feet by a yard, rendering him defenseless.

She set the brake, then paused, looking at him.

He hadn't resisted at all, and now he was watching her in silence, a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Rhoa's throat tightened and she looked away. Her fingers found the vial tucked into her tunic pocket. With a quick breath, she strode into the cell again. "Do you know what this is?" She asked, drawing the vial out and holding it up so he could see the pale gold liquid inside it.

He didn't bat an eyelash.

"This is the poison my mother makes out of the sprak venom. We use it to keep the monster weak," she supplied when he didn't answer. "One drop can kill a grown man." She lifted her lantern and hung it from one of the chain hooks set in the wall. "First there will be a fever. You'll begin breaking out in a rash all over... By tomorrow the rash will turn into black, oozing sores... You'll pray your heart stops from the pain then, because your flesh will begin to rot from the inside out."

The Vanguard followed her progress toward him, his gaze locked on her face. He was too calm, as if he already knew what was coming.

Rhoa blinked, her resolve faltering for a heartbeat.

But she was out of time and options. She needed leverage big enough to outweigh his allegiance to the Vanguard or this wasn't going to work.

Unable to meet his eyes, she pulled one of Tettony's sharpened pigeon quills from her pocket. Then she lifted the vial to the light, uncorked it, and ever so carefully dipped the sharp end of the quill into it, letting it collect a small amount of poison.

She pushed the stopper back into the vial and turned to the prisoner, taking a step toward him.

"You don't have to do this," he said. Very calm and even. "Just talk to me."

Doggedly, she shook her head, and closed the distance between them, using her free hand to pull the loose sleeve of Isander's smock shirt all the way down, baring the Vanguard's right arm.

"Rhoa."

"I don't have a choice," she grated out, then sank the point of the pigeon quill into the skin of his shoulder.

She winced at his harsh gasp of pain, but she had started this. She would have to finish it. Clearing her throat, she backed up, preparing herself for what was about to happen.

He was glaring at her.

She frowned.

He should have been feeling the first effects of the poison already, but he didn't even seem woozy. Instead he was only irritated, as if he had been stung by a bothersome insect. Sweat wasn't beginning to bead on his brow, froth wasn't starting to dribble from his mouth — why wasn't the poison working? How could she hold the antidote hostage if the poison didn't work?

"I told you, you don't have to do that," he started again, biting the words out. "I —"

She yanked the cork from the vial.

"Stop that, you don't understand, I'm – " he let loose a muffled curse when she stabbed him with the quill, then he growled through his teeth, "That hurts!"

"Good!" she snapped. "It's supposed to!"

He went perfectly still, staring at her. Then, to her disbelief, he started chuckling.

"How is this funny?" she demanded, jaw jutting.

That only made him tip his head back and laugh harder, white teeth flashing before he looked at her again, eyes crinkling at the corners. His voice came out a little high and strained with repressed humor as he said, simply, "I'm immune to Keeper's poison."

Her mouth fell open. Then she nodded once, pocketed the vial again, turned around, and marched out of the cell.

"What do you need, Rhoa?" the Vanguard asked, raising his voice. "Talk to me!"

"I don't have time for this," Rhoa snarled, slamming the door shut, frustration loosening her tongue. "The people in the village are probably on their way up here to kill me because they think I'm a Child of Darkness. I don't know if my mother and father are alive out there, or if I'll ever see my brothers again. Gran and Phane are dying of the Rot, and now I can't even poison you into doing what I say. Good luck. The Diviners will probably kill you too if they ever find you —"

"Let me go."

Rhoa glared at him through the bars, her hand on a spoke of the windlass that would pull up the counterweights and release the pressure on his ankles. "Why should I?"

"Because I can cure your grandmother and your brother. And I can fight."

Shaking her head, Rhoa began hauling on the windlass, raising the counterweights. Then she released the stretching hook, letting him drop to the floor of the cell. "I can't trust you. You're a Vanguard. You'll just let all your Vanguard friends in and take over the fortress."

"They won't come in if I don't give them the signal," he said quietly, unhooking his wrists. "And I won't, if you'll promise to do something for me in return."

Surprise, surprise. "And what would that be?"

"Give me your word that you'll talk to the monster."

Rhoa studied him in the lantern light. He was serious. She looked away. He wasn't asking her not to deliver the last dose of poison. If he was trying to trick her, it wouldn't matter. She would fail just as easily without his help as she would if he turned out to be lying. If, however, he was telling the truth, and he did cure Phane and Gran and help fend off whatever Rokstag was planning, then maybe... maybe this would work after all. 'Talking to the monster' wasn't exactly the leverage she thought she would have, but it was worth it if it got the same result.

She didn't have time to be picky.

Taking a deep breath – and begging her father's forgiveness in advance – she straightened. "It's a deal, Vanguard."

That wicked smile lit his face again.

Clearing her throat, she drew her dagger, marched back into the cell, and proceeded to free his wrists. 

"No tricks," she muttered. Then she handed the shackle key to him and stepped back, keeping a wary eye on him as he sank into a crouch and fitted the key into the shackle locks.  

But the Vanguard didn't charge at her or try to make a run for it. He just gave her a searching glance, freed his feet, and stood. "Lead the way, Keeper's Daughter."

With a last-ditch prayer that this wasn't a huge mistake, Rhoa turned and headed out into the dungeon hallway, her sworn enemy padding silently along behind her.

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