Her right ankle was manacled to a heavy ball and chain.
“Who are you?” the woman asked with fearless curiosity. Her voice was rich and vibrant.
Barlo did his best not to stammer. “My name is Barlo. Are you Nunalynia?”
Her slender brows rose. “You have heard of me? Have you come to take me from this place?”
She encompassed the chamber with a gesture. The only furnishing other than the crude wooden table and chair was a narrow pallet that lay within reach of her chain. A dented metal bucket sat beside it. Barlo didn’t know whether it was her water supply or a makeshift privy.
Despite the prison-like surroundings, the air of the chamber was clean, and the woman’s dress had been laundered recently, although the fabric appeared well-worn around in some places.
“Please,” Nunalynia said. “I
