Finally, he gave a nod. “Amazing what yeh care about. Morte let me climb up—probably because I was carrying yeh. He’s heavily drugged from the mushrooms—he probably isn’t even aware what’s happening right now. He’s just walking. Otherwise, I think he would have killed a great many today.” The Spade paused. “I want to warn yeh that Morte might not live long once we get to Hu-Yuhar. Yeh must understand that he has killed many, many Yurkei. Iy-Joyera means the black devil.”
Dinah felt her eyes blur with tears and blood dripping from her head wound. She strained against her gag. “Whhhh….” Sir Gorrann pulled it out again. “Why… why did you lead me here?”
“Don’t yeh worry about that quite yet. It will all play out.” Dinah closed her eyes again, half-reassured, half-alarmed by the Spade’s presence behind her. “Sleep. I’ll wake yeh when we arrive. Best get yer wits about yeh. And don’t try to kill the Chief again, otherwise we’ll both end up riddled with arrows.”
I can’t promise that, thought Dinah drowsily, on the edge of sleep as Sir Gorrann struggled to blindly put her gag back in. Not if he tries to kill me first. I will fight for my pathetic existence, no matter how meaningless it is at this point. Her head throbbed and she dropped swiftly into the soothing arms of sleep.
Chapter Nine
She awoke flat on her back, her eyes staring up at a circle of bright blue sky. She blinked a few times before her hands came up to wipe her watering eyes. Her arms were free. This was a good sign. She let her eyes play over her surroundings, hesitant to move. She was in a tent of some sort, but it wasn’t triangular, or square. It was perfectly round and short, shaped like the tarts she had loved back at the palace. She knew if she stood that her fingers would brush the tip of the roof, and if she were just a bit taller she would be able to stick her hand through the open hole at the top. Dinah pushed herself up shakily. She was sitting on some sort of incredible mattress made of woven grass. Her back felt better than it had in weeks of sleeping on the hard ground. For the first time in a long time, Dinah’s body felt truly rested. She stretched her arms out in front of her body—which led to a pulse of pain that radiated down from her head.
Tenderly, she probed the wound near her temple. Dried blood covered the area, and a lump the size of an apple protruded from just over her ear. Her head was pounding, and the pain pressing against her skull made her grind her teeth. She sat still for a few minutes until the pain decreased to where she could move around. Dinah took a breath. She was fine. She was alive. It was enough. She looked longingly back at the mattress of grass and considered simply curling up and playing dead for the rest of the day, but she had a feeling that wasn’t in her best interest. There were questions to be answered. Her eyes finally adjusted to the light of the tent and she saw that two Yurkei warriors stood silently near the door, their hands locked around their bows.
Dinah turned back to the mattress. A simple red tunic and a pair of white feather pants had been laid out for her. She dressed herself quickly, vaguely aware that the warriors’ bright blue eyes watched her every move, even while their faces remained unreadable. She attempted to braid her hair, though the thick black curtain that she once so loathed was more a rat’s nest than a hairstyle these days. Her boots were gone, and she hoped that they weren’t gone forever if she was going to live through all this. She had grown quite fond of wearing boots.