didn't want food, but needed it, she knew. did she? What was the point, if she was just to be executed anyway?
She dismissed those dark thoughts before they could ever gain a hold, pressed forward and pushed the cover from the pot. In the dim light, she couldn?? make out much within the shadows beneath the lip, but her nose bled her that it was merely bread - stale bread, she determined as she lifted - and a small flask of water. It was her first meal in four days, and it '?too much for her to enjoy a single bite or sip of it. But Brynn forced illv half of the bread and-water down, treating each bite as a small victory her resistance against her captors, her determination to win out and' Turaviel finishedVhe food and drink with the same resigned manner as he had welcomed the zombie waiter.
Brynn just stared at him, trying to impart some fighting spirit. It occurred to her, only briefly, that Juraviel was taking such a passive attitude so that his chances of getting out alive would be heightened, even if his apparent determination not to fight back doomed his companion.
No, Brynn told herself forcefully. Juraviel was resigned because he be-lieved that they had no chance of any substantive resistance.
She would have to show him differently!
The zombie returned after what Brynn estimated to be the turn of a full day. It put the new pot down and grabbed the old one, now serving as a commode, and started backing down the hole.
Brynn started to move, thinking to kill the undead creature while it was vulnerable in the tight passageway, but her expression betrayed her to her companion.
"Do not!" Juraviel commanded, and Brynn stopped and stared at him, then looked back to the zombie, which continued to back away mindlessly, oblivious to the threat.
"If you kill it, then it will lie stinking in the hole," the elf explained, his tone flat and even. ?Then we will have to tolerate the added smell of rot, and that I do not desire."
Brynn sank back against the wall and gave a great sigh. ?Are we to do nothing?"
We are to eat," replied Juraviel. ?And more slowly this day, for they do not always replace the pot they take away on their rounds."
The cycle continued day after day, and while Brynn's ribs began to hurt as she was weakening, not getting stronger, she knew. Their captors were apparently not novices at this business, for they kept the food and drink to absolute minimum, gradually breaking down the strength and will of the prisoners. rynn knew not how many days had passed, and hardly took note when movement sounded in the tunnel. Even after the Doc'alfar emerged from the tunnel, it took the woman a few seconds to realize that this was not their usual zombie waiter!
" Belli'mar Juraviel," the Doc'alfar greeted.
"Hail, Lozan Duk," Juraviel replied, and Brynn's eyes went wide with surprise.
"King Eltiraaz awaits you."
Juraviel nodded and rolled up to his knees, and it took him a long while to steady himself. Brynn, too, started to move, but Juraviel fixed her with a stare and motioned for her to sit back, and Lozan Duk turned a threatening glare at her.
"You will have your chance to explain yourself to my king," the Doc'alfar said to Juraviel. ?This is your trial."
"And am I to have my say to your King Eltiraaz?" Brynn boldly asked.
Lozan Duk slowly turned to regard her. ?You have nothing to say, n'Tyl-wyn Doc."
N'Tylwyn Doc. The word played over and over in Brynn's mind, for she had heard a similar word many times during her tenure with the Touel'alfar, particularly in the beginning, when her training in the ways of the ranger, in the ways of the elves, was in its infancy. Many times, the Touel'alfar had called her n'Touel'alfar, a derisive term that meant, simply, that she was not of the People, of the important people, of the only ones who truly counted. There was some hope to be garnered here, in the fact that the Doc'alfar had not similarly referred to Juraviel. By pointedly using the phrase in regard to Brynn as the reason she would not be allowed to go along, he had, in effect, somewhat included Juraviel in his clan.
That hope was lost on Brynn as she slumped back against the wall, though, for the derisive title, n'Tylwyn Doc, sounded to her like the call of the executioner.