It was dark when she awoke to find herself in a cell, her arms aching and feeling like someone had thrown her into the room. Her legs were sore and her arms stiff. She staggered to her feet and looked around; it was literally a cell no more than eight feet square with a single small window high up no more than thirty centimetres in diameter. She cursed and banged on the door to no avail, until she heard a faint voice, and strained to hear it.
“Is that you, Lorna?”
“Who is that?”
“It’s Jem, thank goodness; I was going mad in here.”
“I can’t see you?”
“I’m a prisoner in the next cell, no idea where we are.”
“What are they holding us for?”
“No idea,” replied Jem, sinking down exhausted as she also tried to make sense of things. An hour later her door opened and she was blinded by a lig
