himself by peering down to the tower floor. It was bare. “Do you not torture here?”
The guard glanced over at them with annoyance. “How familiar are you with these towers?” His eyes narrowed. “I’ve never heard of you.”
Wardley threw him an exasperated look. “I’ve never heard of you either. But I’m sure Erinsten would be happy to hear of your outside pleasures in the Thieves’ Tower.” Dinah could see a growing skepticism in the guard’s eyes as he looked back and forth from Wardley to her. Something had to change. She plastered an insane grin on her face and without thinking, hurled herself at the guard. The platform gave a violent lurch. She managed to wrap both arms around his neck before he threw her back with tremendous force. She flew through the air and bounced off the iron, rolling to her side, just avoiding plunging into the darkness. The platform swayed and lurched. Dinah clawed at it and gave a low feral growl, letting spittle roll over her red lips. She lunged again for the guard. Wardley grabbed the chains around her wrists and flung her roughly down. Blood spurted from Dinah’s elbow, a bright splash of red against the black iron. She writhed around Wardley’s feet.
“Control her!” the Club Card screamed. “She’s mad! She’ll tip the platform!”
Wardley yanked Dinah up. His brown eyes met hers, and Dinah saw a bewildered amazement dance across his handsome face. The man looked away from them as he lumbered toward the center of the platform, grumbling to himself about Cards and whores.
“Mad, just like Faina Baker. With any luck, they’ll kill each other, and we won’t have to put up with this constant stream of visitors.” He glowered at Wardley as he grabbed a thick metal chain that hung through the center of the platform. “Hold on to something solid.”
Dinah wrapped her fingers around the decorative iron swirls on the platform. Wardley kept one hand firmly around her chain and the other around his sword hilt. The man released a loud grunt and yanked downward on the rusty lever, which was thicker than Dinah’s arm. The platform gave a shudder, and suddenly they were hurtling up into the tower, chains rattling above them. Dinah saw flashes of light and the doorways to a dozen cells as they surged upward, the walls narrowing the higher they went. Iron wheels wailed against the metal chains as they neared the pulley. The guard used his foot to pull a lever that lay flush against the floor, and the platform ground to a violent halt. Nausea rushed up from Dinah’s stomach, and she choked back bitter bile.
“Faina’s cell is number ten/six.” He eyed Dinah again. She nibbled on her knuckle and eyed him warily. “Make it quick. Once Cray releases her from the root, there’s only a short time that she’ll be able to speak before …”
“Before?” Wardley took a bold leap off the platform, dragging Dinah with him. The platform swung in the empty air.
“You’ll see. I don’t want to spoil the surprise. Cray! Faina has more visitors.”
A scrawny boy ran out of a narrow tunnel, his feet black and bare. An old Card clasp was pinned to his ancient Card tunic. The fabric was worn so thin that Dinah could see the boy’s breaths rattle his ribs. He gave them a toothless grin before bending over in front of Dinah. At first she thought he was bowing, and a rush of panic held her still, but then he began touching her boots. “Fancy boots we have here. I reckon maybe I’ll get my hands on these sooner or later, if they’re not snatched.”
She glanced down at her wool dress and brown boots. They were lower class by her standards, but now she realized with a flush of shame that the clothing she donned to appear poor was still richer than anything this boy had ever seen. He stood and stared at her face with curiosity.
“Follow me, lass. Don’t walk too close to the cells.” He gave a laugh. “’Course, you’ll be seeing these cells close enough, so it probably doesn’t matter if your fellow tower mates get to know you a little better.”
Wardley gave the boy a stern look. “Take us to Faina, Cray.”
The spiral leading upward grew tighter and tighter until Dinah felt like she was simply turning in a circle. Looking down made her dizzy, but looking up was even worse. As the pointed ceiling of the tower loomed closer and closer, the shimmery black wood brushed the top of Dinah’s hood. When it seemed they could climb no farther, Cray appeared to step right into the wall. He poked his head out. “You slums coming?”
Dinah found herself led by Wardley through a slender opening in the wood. Roots twisted overhead; this part of the tower seemed to be the least solid of the structure. Every once in a while a tiny pink snowflake would find its way in through cracks in the wood. It’s so beautiful, thought Dinah, watching it dissolve against the black ground. Such a small beauty in such a terrible place.
Cray pulled a huge ring of keys from the wall. “She’s just up in here. I gotta pull her off the tree.”
Unlike the lower cells, this particular cell had a thick iron door, interwoven with oily black roots. Pressing out from the other side, a handprint was etched into the iron. Someone had pressed so hard and long that the image lingered on. Dinah’s stomach gave a violent lurch, and the chains binding her shook and leaped. Cray stared for a moment at her hands and then turned back to the door.
“Stand near the door. It takes a few seconds to free her from the root.”
It was hard to make out exactly what they were seeing in the shadowy light. Faina’s cell was dark, but once Dinah’s eyes adjusted, she could make out a stone slab for sleeping, a chamber pot, and a threadbare rug on the floor. From there, Dinah’s eyes traveled up the wall to Faina Baker’s face, all while fighting the horror rising up inside of her.
Faina was pressed against the wall, held tight by leather bonds that looped over her abdomen and chest. She writhed against them, her feet slipping in the black fluid that dripped down from above. Thin tendrils of black roots snaked out of the wall and into Faina Baker’s open mouth, nose, and ears. All down her body, the black roots circled and twisted, moving slowly, leaving a thin black film as they slithered inch by inch. Dinah gripped Wardley’s arm as a tendril crawled its way up Faina’s face.
Faina’s eyes were open, frozen in panic; a low moan came out of her mouth filled with black roots. Cray sauntered up to her and unhooked the leather straps from her torso, narrowly avoiding the roots that reached ever so slightly for his hand.
Wardley’s mouth twisted with anger. “What are you doing to her? How can you allow this? What is …?” He stepped forward, forgetting himself. Dinah could see he was unhinged, his hand on his sword hilt. Forgetting chivalry and honor was not an easy thing. Dinah yanked backward on her chain, and he remembered where he was. Cray untethered Faina, and she slouched forward. The roots slithered back from her body, retreating from her nose, mouth, and ears with a revolting sucking sound. Finally, the roots released, and Faina Baker crumpled like a rag doll onto the dirty floor.
“You strap her to the tower? That’s the torture for high treason?”
Cray gave a filthy, toothless grin. “Aye. What could be worse than being strapped to the very source of the poison that corrupts the Towers? The roots take to the skin, and as you can tell, they love an opening. Eventually the poison seeps directly into the brain. It gives hallucinations and fevers, and some say the
