guess about the chest's contents was correct, this was the only lock she would be picking with an iron shard.
Though really, she thought, what are the chances?
It didn't matter. She had to have the Shroud.
Twilight bent to work on the chest and her delicate ears picked up the jangling of keys-telltale sound of a troll getting smart. If she lingered a heartbeat longer, she would be caught, and it would almost be worth it. But she wasn't certain about the chest, so she made the logical decision.
It was not easy, though-she wasn't sure she didn't prefer death.
With a wince and an oath, Twilight left the chest and dived into the shadows. She concealed the rusty spike along her forearm-it might prove useful.
As soon as she reentered the curving corridor, Twilight grimaced. She saw the troll fumbling with a thick key ring to get the padlock open. She couldn't dance back into a room that forbade magic, and she would never slip past a cautious troll.
Not without her other powers-powers he had taught her.
Though it twisted in her gut like a serrate blade, Twilight knew it was necessary. A creature of pragmatism, she could not let personal anger interfere with survival, no matter how much it vexed her.
But without the Shroud, it made her nervous.
'Chameleon watch my comings and my goings,' she murmured. 'Take my hand and guide me through the darkness.'
With the words came a feeling the Fox-at-Twilight knew only too well. A cool mantle of power-like the shadows, but teasing her every nerve-settled over her. It would vanish in the anti-magic field, but she would make it in.
As always, a tiny, mocking laugh tickled the back of her consciousness, one she had long ago learned to ignore. It sounded too familiar to be real.
When she moved, Twilight may as well have vanished.
Tlork threw the door open and lumbered into the hall, hefting his massive hammer. Wherever the elf had gone, he would find her and crush her. No one made a fool of Tlork Thunderhead.
The troll paused and winced. It was happening again. Tlork was, painfully, thinking. Like a paralyzing plague, rationality settled upon Tlork's scrambled mind and forced the troll to a grinding halt.
A dim memory associated with the moniker Tlork Thunderhead struggled to assert itself. The troll's mind chugged along: That's not what the master calls me, not quite Th-underhead.
The thought rumbled through Tlork's head and departed, and the troll breathed a sigh of relief.
Then Tlork heard the cell door bang closed. He whirled, only to find the elf lounging on one of the pallets in the cell, swinging her legs idly.
The troll furrowed his brow. If he had been confused before, now Tlork tumbled entirely off reason's cliff into a mad, upside-down sea. When he last checked, she had run out, not in, and no one could have gone past him. Tlork growled at her through the bars.
'What you do there?' Tlork growled.
'You'd know better than I,' the elf said. 'I don't know why you put me in here.'
'Tlork put you?' Tlork said. 'You prisoner. Tlork guard.'
'And an excellent job you're doing with that.' She spread her hands and laughed brightly. 'I thought I could escape, but apparently I was wrong. Silly me, eh, guard?'
'What?' Tlork was confused-a sensation familiar to him. 'Tlork guard.'
'And a wonderful job you're doing with that,' she said.
Tlork would not be undone so easily. 'But you out.'
'No, I'm in.'
Tlork was lost.
Twilight stretched languidly on her stone pallet and rested her head on her hands. She would enjoy this immensely.
'You out,' Tlork said.
'Oh,' she said, feigning confusion. 'You want me to come out?'
'No.' Tlork paused. 'But you out.'
She shrugged, rose, and dusted herself. 'Well, if you say so, but I was getting quite comfortable in here. It's rather nice, isn't it? Despite the misery and decrepitness-right, Lee, Late, Li…?'
'Liet.' The youth groaned from the corner in which he had curled into a ball.
'Right,' said Twilight, not looking away from Tlork. 'But since you're being so insistent, I might just pop out for a spell. I mean, not literally, you know.' Unfortunately, Liet was a little too dazed and Tlork a little too dumb to appreciate that witticism. 'At your insistence, of course.'
Tlork's answer came in the form of an incoherent grunt.
'Eh? I think I missed that, handsome,' Twilight said.
'You in.'
'You said I should come out.'
'No, you…' Tlork's head almost made an audible grinding sound as he fought for the right verbiage. 'You stay in. But you… out. Was out.'
The way he said it, one would think his use of the past tense a grand victory.
'I was out,' Twilight said, slowly. 'Oh! You must mean before you put me in.'
'No. After.'
'After we're speaking? Oh, don't jest! I know that hasn't happened yet.'
'No. Before.' Tlork's head visibly ached from the complex concepts.
'Before you put me in, yes?'
The troll finally gave up trying to make himself understood, gave an impotent snarl, and stamped off down the hall. Twilight imagined he was trying to make sense of a situation impossible to understand without a child's grasp of tense and grammar. She rubbed her hands together, stretched where she stood, and looked around.
Twilight was not surprised to find Liet still in the cell. In the brief moment in which she had formed an impression of him- before seriously compromising his fathering capabilities-the human had not struck her as particularly experienced or strong, overly courageous or bold, or for that matter, armed.
'Well… done,' he managed from the corner. 'Bold… and ruth… less…'
'I have plenty of ruth. I just know when to use it and when to ignore it.'
'I… see…'
She lay down again and contemplated the ceiling. 'Really, trolls should all have tattoos that say, 'This one's stupid.' I guess whoever altered that one forgot to add a brain while he was mucking around with everything else.'
A groan was the only reply forthcoming.
'Oh, come now,' Twilight said. 'You've had the count of at least three hundred to recover. Don't tell me you're still crippled.'
'Only my pride,' said Liet. 'And the fact is, lass-'
'Don't call me that,' said Twilight. 'I'm five times your age.'
'Maid-'
'Not a maid either. None too young or overly innocent.'
Liet flushed. From his expression, he hadn't considered it. 'Then lady-'
'Not that either. Neither that old nor that rich, lad-of-twenty-eight-winters-or-so.'
'How do you know how old I am?'
'Trade secret.'
Liet seemed hesitant to accept that answer, but since no other was coming, it would have to do. 'Well. The
