He left.
Her square of light returned.
It gave her some comfort to find it always there when she woke.
Some time later the key scraped in the lock again.
She kept her eyes closed so she wouldn't have to witness the death of her square of light.
Common stock or royal prince, lowborn man or high,
There isn't any difference, when Swingman draweth nigh.
~Folk saying on the mountain
Chapter 27
"My Lady?" A woman's voice. It sounded trembly and tentative.
Repentance opened her eyes and stared. She knew the face but couldn't remember the name. Someone from the mountain. She squinted in concentration.
"I've brought you soup."
Ah. Her maid, Generosity.
Her tongue felt like a block of wood "We thouldn't be here." Her words came out all lumpy and ill formed. "Thith ith no plathe for uth."
"I know. But don't talk now," Generosity said gently. "Here's some yak's milk. I know you're thirsty. We didn't find out where you were until a few hours ago."
"How long have I been here?"
"Two days. Drink first and then we'll talk."
Repentance drank half of the milk—it was sweet and cooled her burning throat and shrank her fat tongue. Lowering the flask she noticed that a blotch of shadow was biting into the light on the floor. She looked up at the door. A small head peeped around the jamb.
She smiled in spite of everything. "Why are you here, Tigen?"
"Came to see you," he said stepping into the room.
"Well, I wish I could offer you a proper a place to sit, your highness. This cell is hardly fit for royalty."
Tweaking Tigen's ear, Generosity said, "I told you to wait in the hallway until I could see how she was." Then she handed Repentance a bowl of soup. "You need to eat."
Repentance looked into the bowl. Warm broth with a couple of hunks of potatoes floating in it. Closing her eyes, Repentance prayed. "For your bounty ... of course, it's not bounty, really, is it? For this meager bowl of soup, then, I thank you. You've not given me much in life. I don't expect much in death. And yet I thank you for giving me something, little though it be."
"I've never heard you pray before," Generosity said.
"You've never seen me sentenced to death before, either." She lifted the bowl to her lips and drank.
"The prayer wasn't a very good one, though," Generosity said.
"What was wrong with it?"
"You were accusing Providence of being stingy."
"Did he give me a feast, here?"
"I would have brought more but the guards would not allow it. Prisoners are to be kept barely alive—just enough to face the swing frame. In fact, the prince meant to starve you completely, I think. The king thought the prince had ordered your meals. But Cook didn't even know you were locked up down here."
"Cook didn't know I was here, but Providence did. The reason you didn't bring more was that you could not. Providence, however, could have given more. He chose not to. I'd call that stingy."
Tigen whistled. "Why are you still alive after talking like that?"
She sighed. Why indeed? Because Providence was in the habit of ignoring her. He'd been doing it all her life. Why would he start listening now?
"I'd call you a lucky leopard," the young prince said in an awe-tinged voice.
"Yes, but you are only in your eighth year, so no one cares for your assessment." She forced a smile and gave his head a friendly pat.
"Providence ought to slap you cross-eyed," Generosity said. "You know it's true."
Repentance lifted her bowl and drank some more before answering. "I'll grant I have not always been his most grateful subject. I haven't had much to be grateful for, though, you must admit. Still, now that I am destined to go and meet him, I'm trying to mend my ways. Hence my prayer of thanksgiving for the soup. I'm sorry you don't approve."
"It's not determined that you're going to meet Providence any time soon," Generosity said. "The king has yet to pronounce a sentence."
Repentance sighed. If her mother were there she'd have said the same thing. She'd kiss her forehead and whisper, "Hush, Repentance, Providence will make it all come out right in the end." She'd heard it so many times growing up. Yet here she was at the end, and nothing was coming out right. She drained her bowl and handed it back to Generosity.
"Did you really try to kill the king?" Generosity asked. "Shamed has been worrying ever since you vanished. Whispering and crying about how he should have stopped you."
Repentance sat up straighter. Shamed might be able to help her. He could go to the king and tell what he knew. She shook her head. All he knew was that there were a couple of strange yaks in his barn and a trooper visiting every day. And maybe someone was hiding in the secret room. He couldn't prove that the men weren't there to meet Repentance. The prince was never near the barn. He was blameless as far as anyone could prove. And if Shamed got involved, the prince would find a way to punish him.
She shook her head. She'd not take Shamed to the swing frame with her.
"Tell Shamed to stop talking about it. It's not safe. He needs to forget he ever saw anything. Lord Malficc—" she broke off, looking at Tigen's sweet, open face.
"What happened?" Generosity asked. "Surely there has been some mistake."
"It's not a story worth telling," Repentance answered, wearily. "I was trying to save the king, not kill him. But I have no way to prove my innocence."
"We'll pray on it," Generosity said. "Maybe Providence will be pleased to
