Some time later, I rise and tap lightly on the door.
“Kelari?” the guard on the other side asks, opening the door himself. I’m glad to note it wasn’t locked. The window is probably still my best escape route, should things go sideways, which would be the main reason I refused to attempt the stairs.
“It’s starting to get dark. May I have a lamp?” I ask.
“Of course, kelari.” He’s tall and slim, and while he’s young, his eyes have a certain coldness to them that I don’t like at all. He swings the door shut and hurries away. From the sound of it, he goes no more than a doorway or two down the hall before pausing and returning. Another moment passes in which I imagine him lighting the lamp before he taps at the door and hands it through to me.
He’s taking his job very seriously, and I’m not
