I dreamt about the fire, because of course I did. It's a nightmare I've had over and over since I was fourteen, and I'll probably have it until I die. My father had told me that life was shaped like a whirlpool, with events spinning around and around in a cycle, until they finally got pulled into the center and the world ended. It’s why the same things happen over and over, why we’re always running into the same problems. I reckoned the dreams were a part of that.

Didn't explain the dry hay landing on my face.

I snapped at Ecka; it was the first thing I could think of that'd make me feel better. "Did you throw this shit on me?"

"It's just straw," Ecka's voice echoed back. "I apologize, I-"

"I'll forgive you," I said, not really all that kindly.

"Oh," he said, "good," like he was relieved.

I tried to find a dry place for the dry hay, because my cell was still mostly soaked, and I was getting close to shivering. A corner fuzzy with cobwebs was where I ended up, curled in on myself like a squirrel in its nest.

As I tried to squeeze the last of the water out of my hair, I thought about Ecka, and what he'd told me. Precious fucking little, to be honest, and after I'd put myself on a platter for him. Sleeping hadn't really taken an edge off my temper.

"Hey, Sir Ecka-"

"Ecka is fine," he said, real magnanimous.

"Sure," I said. "Hey, Sir Ecka, what the fuck are you doing down here?"

"Now you're interested in what I have to say?" He could have turned that real rude, if he wanted to, but he kept his tone light, friendly. I didn't deserve his kindness, and I kept on making sure I didn't deserve it.

"Might as well know who I'm going to die with."

"You think we'll die together?"

"I think it'll be close enough to count."

"No, no-" he said, and I could imagine him shaking his head. "You think we'll both die?"

"Probably." I wasn't ready to accept it all the way yet.

He seemed to want to change the subject. Looking back, I honestly think he wanted to cheer me up. He put a little drama in his voice, and it came out in this conspiratorial hush. "I was wondering when this would come up… But I think we're alone now."

It was true. When he wasn't talking, all I could hear was the beating of my heart.

"You see," he said, pausing for effect, "I am a spy."

It was just too ridiculous- I burst out with, "oh, blow it out your ass!" I rocked back against the hay and cobwebs at my back. Fucking unbelievable. I get thrown down here for spying, and end up sitting next to an actual spy. While Ecka was still babbling confused apologies, I cut in. "If you're down here with me, you can't be a very good one."

"I was chosen because of my familiarity with the area. I've traveled here before, at the behest of my Lord the High King Eadh of Cyne."

Cyne was the biggest and the richest of the great cities to the north. Ecka being from Cyne might've been a big deal if he'd had a surname. Surnames were something nobles had. I kinda had to suspect him not having one was part of why he'd been sent down here. Familiar with the area? Sure. Expendable commoner? Even fucking better.

I wasn't mad enough, just then, to throw it in his face, but I could feel it coming like the tide.

Ecka continued, "I was sent to ascertain the loyalty of the High King's cousin."

Of course Ceorl was a high king's cousin. All dukes had royal blood, or so I'd been told. They were all Eadling titles I'd had to learn while pretending to already know.

"They found you out," I said, "and now you're fucked."

"In a… manner of speaking."

"You didn't tell anyone you were a spy, right?" It felt like a dumb question to ask, but he'd admitted that little secret a bit too easily to me.

"Of course not." He didn't sound offended I'd asked; it felt like he was trying to reassure me he hadn't fucked up. "But I am suspected. They found coded letters on my person."

“Yeah, you’re fucked.” I couldn’t think of a reason someone would have a coded letter on them, unless they had things they didn’t want rich nobles to know. Sure, you could get up to some more pedestrian shit like cuckoldry or blackmail, but if you’re doing it to a rich enough person, they could call it treason, anyway. Pissing off a noble and doing it with a lie was enough to get accused of spying, in most cases.

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Shit, maybe I really was a spy.

But not in any way that mattered. Not in a way that did me any good. Ecka and I were in the same boat, and it was fucking sinking.

Seemed like Ecka was thinking the same thing as me, because the next thing he asked me was, "What is your plan to escape, Goodwoman Yng?"

I'd been down here a while, and I'd tried a few different things. Bartering with the guards didn't work; I had nothing they wanted, and let's just say I was glad of that.

While I wasn't a bad pickpocket, I was less than useless when I didn't know where the pockets were, and the guards kept their keys in leather bags so they wouldn't jangle. I wasn't thin enough to fit through the bars, and I reckoned by the time I was, I'd be pretty dead on my feet. When I'd been thrown down here, they'd taken my shoes, my belt, my knife, everything but my shirt and the men's braes I'd been wearing.

My biggest strength was always lying, but there wasn't a lie that would make more sense than the truth. As I'd seen many times in my sessions with the guards, the truth wasn't what they wanted. It didn't flatter them, or back up what they already believed about the world. A good lie needs to do that, and had nothing that worked..

I hadn't completely resigned myself to dying, but sometimes I could feel it coming on the horizon, like a sun refusing to set.

Admitting that felt like admitting to a weakness. Being a petulant ass wasn't much better, but it was a lot easier. "What makes you think I have a plan?"

"I thought Magni never gave up."

If he was trying to rouse me, but it didn't work. I'd always thought of the Magni as fatalistic, honestly. Most Magni I'd known thought it was better to die in battle than take a chance for survival in captivity. Hadn't I tried to die, to escape the fire, all those years back?

I didn't really feel like thinking about that.

"Could you stop bringing up that I'm Magni all the fucking time?" I made a guess at what would get him to do what I said: "It's fucking rude."

"Oh." He seemed to pause, considering this new information. "My apologies. I've never spoken with a Magni before, and I-"

I didn't want to hear it. "Now you have. A bit late in the game, but here I am."

"A bit late..." That soft sound again, a little laugh. "You know, I truly do mean to leave this place."

"So do I."

"I mean to leave it alive."

"Oh, fuck you."

I reckoned he hadn't been expecting that; he went silent for a moment, two. Him relenting just pissed me off worse. I spit out the shit I'd been keeping back since he'd given me his name.

"I don't know what you're doing, keeping cheery," I said. "They're going to kill you off pretty soon. You're not important enough to hold back for ransom," I said. "You're not from a noble house."

But he just took it. "No, I'm not," he confirmed, though he really didn't have to. I wondered if the real reason he'd told me his full name was so I'd be able to understand his story. He seemed like the kind of guy who liked to be understood. A polite guy, talkative, who liked to tell stories with the lads. I bet he had a favorite seat at a favorite tavern somewhere in Cyne.

He didn't deserve to die down here. Then again, nobody did.

"Do your people in Cyne-- grand great high king Eadh--" Every formality made me hatefully angry-- "or whoever, do they know you got all the way down here? Did you send a message?"

"I, ah, I had been in the process, when-" A silence stretched out between us. He didn't have to say it. He'd been doing just that when they caught him.

"They could just disappear you," I said, mocking. "Dump your body in the river. They know everything; they can deny everything."

"That is… what I think most likely," he said. "I was hoping you'd disagree."

"It's just common sense," I said, fitting the words flat and sharp between my teeth. I wanted him to be as pissed off as me, as sad as me, as tired and beaten as me.

"Perhaps," he said, and it was the saddest he'd sounded since he'd started talking. Just fucking hopeless. Through everything so far, he'd been able to keep his good cheer, however fucking annoying, but he was losing his hold on it. I couldn't tell you why, but hearing him give up was like being stabbed between the ribs.

It sounds stupid to say outright, especially when I'd driven him to this point, but this was the part where I started giving a shit.

I hadn't wanted to admit it to myself, but I'd given up. Maybe it'd happened when they lit that fire, or maybe it was before then. It didn't matter. At some point, I'd just stopped trying to escape. I'd stopped even thinking of trying to escape.

So, sitting there in the dark, curled up in a nest of old hay, I got to thinking again. After nine years of lying, I liked to think I was good at it. The'd caught me, yeah, but it'd taken them a long fucking time. Things had changed, if I forced myself to really think about it. The playing field was different. I could lie my way out of this.

I could, with his help.

"If I had a plan," I said, "you'd have to work with me. If you screwed me over, you'd screw yourself."

"Now you want to conspire?" It could have been real snarky, coming from him, but instead he sounded… I don't know, tentative. Like he wanted to go along with me. I reckoned if he was a bit hesitant, I'd earned that.

"You'd have to take me with you, out of here. Would you do that?"

And his voice was bright again, and it was wonderful. "Of course I would!" He said it like the thought of leaving me behind had never crossed his mind. He said it like I'd surprised him by even asking. Maybe I really had. I didn't actually know him, for all my guesses. I'd just wanted to sort him away, assume I knew everything about him. That would make it all the easier to ignore him and keep going with my big plan to die in the dark.

It's easy to resign yourself to dying, but I hadn't accounted for how hard it was to hear someone else do it.

Sometimes, I'm a real fucking idiot.

"Can you lie?" It was one thing for me to do it, but he was the one they'd listen to.

"Like you did?"

I ignored that.

"You're going to have to lie so well, you almost believe it yourself."

"Is that how you felt?"

I ignored that, too.

"You'll have to listen to me."

His laugh rang out, warm as the rising sun. "Of course I am."