The chill air was familiar, the feeling of the cold slab under me carrying ice to my veins. I shivered in the damp, the
thin clothing I wore no match for the underground beneath the Seat. It made me think of Syd, the dark and damp little
stone room, how she'd ended up here herself after being accused of killing Ahbi. Of course, that was a long time ago and
the real murderer, Ameline Benoit, was dead. And yet, I found myself wondering if Syd felt trapped the way I did. If her
temper had ruled her or if she felt as calm as I did, knowing they couldn't hold her even if they tried.
I was grateful Rutorith chose a different level than the one I was accustomed to visiting. My cell was on a lower level
than where we held Ram, keeping him out of harm's way, at least for now. But, for the first time, I thought of his
precarious situation and suddenly worried what would happen to him and Portlish if Henemordonin found them.