There he had received his due reward. The Kantri—the True Dragons, the great creatures of legend that can speak and reason— had broken his mind. The last time I had seen him ere this, he had not been able to walk unassisted and he could not speak. His Healer, Maikel, had held out no hope of Marik's ever being able to regain the power of conscious thought.

I shuddered to my bones. Perhaps that would be my fate, afterwards. At least I won't be there to know about it, I thought grimly.

Then, even more grimly, Probably.

Enough, girl, I told myself sternly. Think. The door was opened once. Maybe there will be another chance. When they come for you, perhaps?

It would help if I'd had any faint idea of where I was. Nothing looked even slightly familiar. The walls were thick and stone-built, but that could be anywhere. I shivered, mostly from the cold, and began to pace the tiny room—no more than two steps from wall to wall, but it kept me from freezing.

The most maddening thing was that I kept gazing, will I or nill I, at the little barred window high up on the wall. It faced towards the south so that I never saw direct light of sun or moon, only the scattered glow of either but sometimes I could catch a glimpse— I went to drag the chair over, but the chain pulled me up short.

Though perhaps—I stood on the chair where it was, standing on tiptoe—yes, there she was! The rising moon. She was just past the full, the Ancient Lady of the Moon, and she smiled at me, fair and comforting even in this dark and desperate place. I gazed as long as I could, but I could only perch like that for a very short , time. Eventually a wave of dizziness swept over me and I sat down, hard. I was in such a hurry to get down that my backside clipped the edge of the chair and I fell into a muddled heap, heedless now J of the cold, my anger gone and with it my strength. With my legs drawn up to my chest and my manacled arms wrapped around my legs, I rocked myself back and forth, small movements, as if I were terrified even to admit to myself how frightened I was. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine Jamie rocking me when I was a child, disturbed by an ill dream, but thinking of Jamie made things worse.

And what did not?

The unnatural silence rattled me. All that I did happened in a complete absence of sound, bar those few moments with my tormentors. It made everything feel like a dream. No, a nightmare. A nightmare that never ended, that on waking was as hopeless as in the depths of sleep. All I could look forward to was a painful death—or worse yet, a short life in agony, if there was anything left to feel agony after the soul had gone to the deepest Hells. Left in this cage, without hope, without sound, with nothing to comfort me and all I loved taken from me.

My body began to protest the compression and I let go my legs. I felt my belly quavering, a peculiar movement, and it struck , me—was that the first movement of my babes? Or only my stomach protesting the food I'd eaten?

Goddess, Mother, aid me, I thought, my heart pounding in my ears. I can't even be sure I've felt my poor babes move. I can't even take my own life and protect my children from Berys by killing them.

Damn Berys. Damn and blast him to all the Seven Hells, i demons take his liver and feet it to the dogs ...

My whole body was shaking now, fear and rage together leaving me unmanned, for I was furious with myself even as I trembled in every limb. Every time I tried to think my way out of this hole I came to this place of fear, of gut-tightening, muscle-cramping, uncontrollable terror. Dear Goddess, what evil have I done to merit this end? I cried in the depths of my soul, longing beyond reason for the ability to shout or scream if only to relieve my anger. And my poor children, my unborn babes—I had fought for them, poor little souls, fought already for all of our lives nearly at the cost of my own. I had consented to be changed to a creature not entirely human that they—that we—might live, and now my empty sacrifice mocked me to my bones. At the time I had blessed the Healers for saving my life. Now I wished I had simply died, and my littlings with me. At least then we might walk together in the High Fields of the Lady.

By now, whenever now was, Berys surely knew that I was with child. I drew my knees in again, gently, and wrapped my arms around my middle. It was the nearest I could come to embracing my poor childer.

I pray now only that we will all go down to death together, my sweetings, and I will protect you with all the fire of my soul until the Lady comes to gather Her innocents to Her breast.

I had no doubt that their lives would end in as much pain as possible once Berys learned of them.

I bowed my head as black despair washed over my soul, for I could see no escape even in death for us all three.

I realised as it crashed over me that I had never faced true despair before that moment. Sorrow, weariness, anger, fear—all of these are the common lot of humanity, but always before there had been hope somewhere behind all. Hope, for me, had always lain behind my days. Always there was a prospect of a brighter future, of a time when this ill would be past or that obstacle would be overcome: but now I could see the future, clear and sharp before me, and it held only pain and fear and horrific ending, and all too soon.

The wise say that it is only when hope deserts you that you find the underlying truth of your soul. Some find only a vast weariness that pulls them swiftly down to their ending: some admirable few discover true courage in some hidden corner of the self. At that moment, in that desert of the soul, in despair more profound than I had ever imagined, I was brought face-to-face with my own imminent death. In that cold dark place of stone my heart was as a lump of lead in my chest. I could barely force myself to breathe, as if my body wished to make an end to life on its own terms. I closed my eyes and longed for even the release of tears, but I tell you now, true despair is dry as the dust of ages.

And then, with my eyes tight closed, I saw in my mind a vision of a tiny flame far off, years distant from me but present. The faintest hint of fire, as when a single spark lands on dry tinder and sits for a brief instant, glowing red in the darkness.

Even as I sat there I drew in a breath, carefully, and breathed out slowly and gently, as though I blew in truth on a tiny physical spark to encourage it.

In my mind it glowed a little before it subsided.

I drew another breath in the silent darkness, and in that still- ness felt something within me flutter. My starving belly, poor thing, I thought, and physically blew again on that tiny mental spark. It glowed a little more this time, and when I next drew breath it did not fade. Again, and it grew as large as my little fingernail, and it seemed to have the shape of a woman.

My belly moved again and this time my eyes flew open. That was not hunger. I moved my hands to sit over the small roundness of my belly.

Butterfly movements from within. Barely noticeable, save that I had sat so still.

Sweet Goddess, it must be.

My babes were moving.

For one breathless moment I thought nothing, felt nothing, apart from a mad, delirious joy that they lived and thrived even now.

And the next moment I laughed harshly into the silence. In that instant, to my astonishment, the tiny flame within had grown from distant star to brilliant sun, and it raged now within me, all-consuming. I did not recognise it but I surely welcomed it, for that fire was strength and home and love and all, it warmed my body and set my soul ablaze. I did not need hope. I had nowhere else to turn, and turning inward I found—myself afire. All those I loved were there, within me—my beloved Varien, our babes so tiny but alive and growing despite all, my heart's father Jamie, were the nearest, but there were others: soulfriend Shikrar, his son Kedra, Mirazhe, their tiny son Sherok gazing newborn into my eyes, Idai in despite of her pain a strength and a companion.