The trouble with sleeping on hay is, once you’ve flattened a place to lie down, you can’t move at all from that spot. The slightest twitch will shift countless pieces, and at least one will happily stab you in your back, or maybe your eye. Many others, though not as painful, will array themselves in such a manner as to cause a devil of an itch. As someone who tossed in her sleep, Minerva was more likely to go insane than get any good rest in her cell.

She sat up. It wasn’t as though her mind would let her rest, anyway. She’d seen Heller. He was close enough to strangle. If only she hadn’t…

She shook her head. Then, in a burst, she rammed her manacles against the bars. Next time. She couldn’t let herself be defeated here; next time she’d find a way to exact every ounce of pain he’d ever caused her.

Her eyes shifted up the cell walls. Of course, she’d need to get out of here first. Heller made it seem like the whole guard was in his pocket. If they were dirty, or if the Consul was dealing in underhanded—but no. She’d gone over this a thousand times already. She couldn’t believe anything that Heller said. He might’ve wanted her to break out, to go on the run, to get beheaded for treason. And she knew if that were the case, Heller would arrange it so the last thing she saw was that stupid, smug smirk of his. Gods, she hated him. She would always hate him.

He killed her brother.

She banged on the bars again. The sound reverberated and wove through the jail. A couple rats took notice and scurried away, but that was it. Across from her cell, Ratbreath just lay silently. He'd been incredibly quiet since Heller cast that spell on him. It was probably Suggestion. Eight hours of forced existential crisis must’ve done a number.

She curled into a ball, head leaning against the wall. This was the only way she could get any sleep, but it didn’t do her back and joints any favors.

There had been some commotion earlier. The guards went on full alert, and she was pretty sure most went into town. She smiled, or rather her lips tightened mirthlessly. If it was an invasion, or something worse, the AUTC might get called. She knew her soldiers had no love for her. How many of them would get a laugh out of seeing her now?

Some stirring came from the cell across from her. Ratbreath didn’t usually adjust position in the night—he was too accustomed to sleeping on hay. He must’ve been ready to get up and stop sulking.

“Did I wake you?” droned Minerva. “I think I scared your rats away. Sorry. You’ve been quiet for a while. I wouldn’t let that piece of trash get you down. He’s not worth a second thought.”

Ratbreath rose. All he managed to say was a drawled “Uhh,” but it was more like air escaping from his lungs and incidentally disturbing his vocal cords.

“Are you alright?” Minerva shifted more attention his way. “You’ve been down for a while. Don’t try to stand so fast if—“

She jumped at the sudden ferocity of Ratbreath launching himself against his cell bars.

“What are you…?” She let the thought drop when she realized he wasn’t listening. His mouth was slung agape, his few teeth on full display. His eyes were rolled back. He stretched his arms between the bars, grasping toward her.

She stood. How had he become a zombie? He was alive just a few hours ago; it would take days, maybe weeks, of neglect before there was even a chance of undeath. No one had come to cast Animate Dead on him, either.

The only likely option left was the incident at Senable.

The dead had been clambering out of their graves—by the hundreds—when she arrived. Before she could do more than stare in horror, they turned to dust. The crypt at the center went up in flames, and out came those adventurers. Two were unconscious, with Jack soon to follow. Keebler—or rather, Kevin told her she was just in time to be useless. Typical elven arrogance.

She shook off the memory. Ratbreath wasn’t making much headway against his bars. If whatever was happening at Senable was happening here….

“Oh, my! A zombie and a wizard, how scary!”

The voice was childish, but with a sarcasm indicative of such precocity that any reasonable adult would prescribe corporal punishment in judicious amounts.

“Who’s there?” challenged Minerva. This whole situation set her on edge. The lack of sleep didn’t help, either.

“Me? Why, I’m an old friend.”

“Then show yourself.” She checked down each side of the hall. No one. Ratbreath gave an extra shove towards her, but was still far from even landing a finger.

“Aww, no. I’m shy, you see.”

Her patience waned. “Then tell me who you are.”

“Oh, dear. Did you forget? I’m an old friend. But let’s see….” The voice seemed to come from all sides. “How about we say I’m your conscience? That sounds fun. You clearly haven’t been listening to me if you’re in here, though. You’re looking terrible, by the way. I don’t think prison suits you.”

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Minerva’s face darkened. She was about to say something when the zombie Ratbreath lunged again at its bars.

“Ah, yes, the reason why I’m here…” The voice suddenly changed, as though its source went from everywhere to just in front of Ratbreath. “Is this guy,” it finished. Ratbreath attacked the air in front of him, perhaps able to hear the voice, as well. “So feisty! I’m sure you remember the happenings at the Senable Memorial Crypt, yes?”

She said nothing.

Which did nothing to deter the voice. “Well, those crazy adventurers are at it again!” It resumed coming from everywhere. “All this wonderful chaos going around, and they’re right in the center of it! Right at the purple flame at the top of that new tower. Can you imagine?”

She still said nothing.

“There’ve been a few other shenanigans—what a lovely word, ‘shenanigans’—going on around town. Did you know the Consul’s been murdered?”

Again, nothing out loud, but she definitely reacted.

“Yes. Shocking, really. Oh, don’t worry, though. He got better. Or maybe you should worry; he has yet to sentence you, after all. I don’t think he’s going to, though. Wasn’t it odd that he even bothered to imprison you? No, no. Don’t mind me. I think out loud sometimes.

“What was next? Ah, a large group of goblins are attacking the town! In fact, they burned down the Fleethand circus tent while there was a show going! That was quite recent; I’m nothing if not quick with the gossip. Yep, burned the tent and started killing the survivors. How despicable! And right after you took care of that one group of them, where you got the goods on those adventurers.

“Now, I wouldn’t worry too much about the circus in and of itself. The people, sure. People getting hurt is always sad. But the circus? Well, it turns out—now, this is very hush-hush, so I trust your discretion—it turns out the circus has been a slavery ring this whole time! Did you know that’s illegal? Well, as your conscience, I’ll tell you; it’s illegal! What do you think?”

Minerva gave it a few seconds. “I think you’re very well informed for a conscience.”

“Well, us consciences need to be, don’t we? Now, do you know the best part? About how all of these things are connected? Oh boy, I bet you’re aquiver with anticipation!”

She said nothing.

“That’s right! Those adventurers have been involved in everything! Wow! How amazing! Being in the middle of so many shenanigans must take a lot of work!

“Now, of course, there might be a reasonable explanation for all this. A sort of—what’s the word? Concatenation! —a concatenation of events that would prove to leave them completely blameless, but what are the chances? Still pretty suspicious if you ask me." The voice’s tone dropped to an eerie calm. "Regardless…”

There were two mechanical clicking sounds. Minerva’s manacles clattered to the floor, and her cell stuttered open. The way was clear. Ratbreath kept attempting to phase through his bars.

“…I think it’s best if you investigate yourself, yes? Or, at the very least, help these poor, terrible Colme soldiers with this growing horde of undead. Either way, you’ll likely end up at the source of it, up that tower.” The voice then resumed its manic affect. “Go forth, lest your conscience insert itself in all your pleasures!”

Minerva knew she couldn’t trust this, whatever it was. It clearly wanted her out of here, but for what purpose? It couldn’t be anything in Fort Gaine, so it had to be specific to her. Did it want her to be caught escaping from prison? Or was it…she was too tired. She couldn’t think straight.

But it didn’t matter. She saw what Senable was like, and if it was happening in Colme, she knew there’d be very few who could help deal with it. They’d need all the help they could get. And if she saw those adventurers…

No. She’d had too much to do with them already. Others were around if they needed to be apprehended. She would just help with the crisis. She could do that much, even if it meant exacerbating her sentence. She stepped out of her cell, avoiding the zombie.

“Oh, one last thing,” said the voice. “You were friends with that Heller, right?”

Her blood ran cold.

“Boy, he was in really good spirits just a bit ago. Seemed like he met an old friend.”

No.

“Oh, not you, I mean. Someone you know. That tall human. The bard. Jack.”

No.

“They were talking, and laughing, and having such a good time.”

No.

“And Jack pulled out his lute and played him the most beautiful song!”

“Stop it!” she cried.

The voice stopped. Minerva breathed heavily, too tired to hold back her tears. She couldn’t trust it. There was no reason to—she couldn’t trust it.

And yet….

She clenched her jaw. Held up her hand.

“Through skies of fire,” she whispered. Flame burst from her palm.

“Through skies of fire!”

The zombie crumbled behind the bars. Without another word, she walked out.

* * * * * * * *

Minerva had left. Ratbreath smoldered quietly in his cell. A few rats wandered to the corpse, either out of grief or curiosity.

A small pixie faded into the visible spectrum, hovering quietly. Its harsh, gaunt features almost had an air of regality. It clasped its hands behind its head, amber eyes lingering on the path Minerva took.

“Go quickly, wizard,” it said softly.

Another pixie showed itself. “That was close!” it cried. “I was caught in that confounded shackle lock!”

The amber eyed one smiled. “I know. I could tell. It took a twig to keep from laughing at you. I don’t think she noticed.”

“Yeah, about her,” said the second one. “Are you sure you did that right? I mean, she’s really in a fury….”

“She sure is.”

“And is that wise?”

Amber Eyes shrugged. “We needed her to go straight there. Fastest way.”

“Did we, though?” The second one let itself fall onto the floor. “I don’t see why we needed to get her involved. We could help.”

“The less direct we are with the adventurers, the better.”

“Yeah, but this is a risk, isn’t it?”

With a shake of its head, Amber Eyes said, “Yes, but the contingency is much more complicated than just ensuring they survive.”

“But, aren’t you worried she might walk up and…kill them?”

Amber Eyes looked at its companion, then back. Its smile grew until it was almost too wide for its face. “Do you know what your problem is?” it asked. Its eyes flashed, taking on the color of a fiery sunset. “You have absolutely no sense of romance.”