The grey walls were smooth and featureless—and seemingly endless. Felitïa pushed herself back and forth across the boundary separating the two Rooms, comparing the walls on both sides. They were identical—which made sense. The walls weren’t literally walls, the Rooms not literally rooms. They were her mind choosing to visualise them in this manner. Years ago, when she had first formed the Room as a way to try to better understand her telepathy, she had consciously chosen to visualise it as a room. Since then, her unconscious mind had done the rest.

In that sense, the grey walls were her own creation. Her mind was viewing whatever the reality was—something imposed on her from without, she was certain—as walls. Perhaps it was time to view the reality. Remove the visualisations. Just “see” what was there.

Could she even do that?

She’d never know if she didn’t try.

She dismissed the second Room and let the original Room stand for a moment, then folded it away. She took a couple breaths, then opened her mind’s eye and let herself see what was there.

It was the Room.

She sighed.

The mistake was obvious in hindsight. Just thinking of a “mind’s eye” and “seeing” created a visualisation, and the Room returned. It was part instinct, part habit from years of doing it that way. She had to stop thinking of it as “seeing”.

Easier said than done.

She folded the Room away again and focused on just her mind and her thoughts, trying not to think of them in any kind of concrete terms.

There was only darkness.

But that was a visual term again.

There was a click and a slight creak in the musty cell.

Felitïa opened her real eyes.

Her jailer was opening the cell door slowly. Trying to sneak in? “Didn’t mean to disturb you. Meditating, were you?” She was a burly woman, her muscular arms covered in tattoos of animal skulls. Felitïa wondered if one of them was a goat skull, and even if one was, if the woman had it just because it was another animal in the collection, or if it was to indicate her allegiance to the Darkness Worshippers. She had a couple daggers and a small axe strapped to her belt.

“I understand the traditional thing in Ninifin is to meditate in the wilderness,” Felitïa said, “but I figured I’d make do. It saves having to break out and walk all the way out of the City to the wilderness.” She smiled—mostly at herself. That was a very Zandrue-like comment.

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The jailer smirked, but apprehension and uncertainty emanated from her. Also determination. She wasn’t carrying any food or water, which was the only reason she had opened the cell since Felitïa had arrived. She pushed the door the rest of the way open. Then she reached for a dagger, but didn’t draw it.

There was very little space between the two of them. The cell was cramped, with only a single hard slab of stone to sleep or sit on. It would take only a second for the jailer to draw the dagger and lunge at Felitïa.

“Is there something I can help you with?” Felitïa asked.

“Yeah, don’t struggle,” the jailer replied. “I knew it was unlikely I’d sneak up on you, but figured I’d give it a try. I’d have waited till you were asleep, but my instructions were to get this done as soon as possible. No one will hear you scream—apart from the other prisoners, who can’t help you—no other guards, and no way you’re getting past me. So you might as well just let it happen. I promise I’ll make it as quick and painless as possible.”

Felitïa nodded. “I expected something like this, and I’m ready for it. No struggling, I promise.”

The jailer drew the dagger. “Nice to have a cooperative subject. No hard feelings, you understand. Just business.”

Felitïa half-closed her eyes and tilted her head slightly. “Understood. Time to sleep.” She released the spell, and the jailer dropped the dagger. Felitïa jumped up and caught the woman as she fell.

Gods, she was heavy. Felitïa struggled to lower her gently to the ground. If she’d hit her head in the fall, she might have woken back up. Felitïa glanced at the jailer’s belt, then at the door. The key was still in the lock, the other keys to the jail dangling underneath it.

Felitïa hurried out of the cell, pulled the door shut, and locked it.

This was a much quicker escape than she had wanted, although not an unexpected one. She had hoped to give Nin-Akna a bit more time to contact Rudiger and make other preparations, but they had both known there was a good chance someone would try to kill her.

In the front, room, she took a quick look about for her things. In a chest, she found her bag and white cloak, rolled up. The bag was empty, but she hadn’t had much in it beyond basic provisions anyway. She had left most of her things, including Lon and Nesh, with Nin-Akna before they had even reached the City. With a shrug, she slung the bag over her shoulders and stuffed the cloak in it.

She’d need to figure out what to do about food and other basics, since she now had no money to buy some more. But that was something that could wait.

The next trick was getting through the City without drawing attention. Her pale burnt skin would stand out, and wearing a cloak or robe with the hood up would draw just as much attention as Ninifins didn’t usually wear that type of clothing.

There were a few other things in the chest as well, presumably belongings of the other prisoners, including a brimmed hat. She felt a bit guilty at the idea of stealing it, but it might prove useful, so she pulled it out and stuck it on her head. It was a poor fit, so she shrugged and put it back.

She considered releasing the other prisoners as well, but she didn’t want to draw attention to a jail-break at this time. This way, she had at least until the jailer woke up and hopefully for however long it was until someone else came and found her trapped in the cell. Besides, some of the other prisoners might be there for legitimate reasons, and she didn’t have time to figure out who were political prisoners and who were actual criminals.

She headed to the door and opened it a crack. It was starting to rain outside.

She didn’t need to make herself completely invisible. That would take too much strength in a populous city. She just needed to make people less inclined to notice her, make her seem part of the crowd. She should have enough strength for that. She hoped.

Felitïa took a deep breath and opened the door.