The Beauty
54 Spring 218
Sometime after finding Vanja
There was no light inside. Virtually no sound. The air was already stale and filled with the smells of his own sweat. His body was shackled and contorted inside the claustrophobic wooden cage, his hands bound behind him. There was no room to stretch out the cramp building inside his legs.
He concentrated on his breaths, focusing his mind against the instinctual urge to thrash against the unbearable restraints, fighting against a growing sense of panic that would exhaust him and eventually kill him, if he let it.
He rotated his frame slowly, allowing his body to stretch and adjust to each new position before pressing on to the next. He was surprisingly flexible.
As he moved, his hands felt along the walls, fingers gliding over shallow etchings carved into the thick wood.
The small tools in his hand were slick with sweat and in spite of his extraordinary talent, he still dropped one while attempting to pick the lock. He heard it fall against his clothing and rattled against the wooden floor. He cursed and a desperate sense of anger and frustration threatened to overpower him. Instead, he paused for three short breaths before he began the slow process of rotating his body once again to collect the instrument.
He worked for days or hours, he couldn’t say which. He lost all sense of time in the dark. He would count each breath but, while each was slow and measured, they were also uneven; in some positions he could almost take a full breath, others only permitted short and shallow gasps.
Finally, after weeks of effort, his fingers reclaimed the lost tool. After completing the long odyssey to move himself back into position, he began working the lock once again. It was a challenging lock. He wished, not for the first time, that he was wearing his magical gloves.
Using the key from his memory as a template, he learned the personality of this lock even as he worked to break it. It was not unlike a good hand of cards - respecting the opponents was all part of the game.
As he worked, the image became more and more clear until at last he could almost see the pattern and design of each metal weight inside the tumbler. Finally, he felt the lock give way.
Ethan pressed against the roof of the chest and was greeted with a wave of fresh air. He was covered in sweat, face flushed red with effort, and grinning ear to ear in spite of the shackles he still had to contend with.
“Aha!” He exclaimed. “Got it…!” He said before realizing that Roux was asleep in the chair, a flask laying atop his chest… right next to the key. There would be no audience for this victory after all.
Bishop began mimicking the sounds of a slow clap. (An impressive feat for a man without any hands)
Tired and slightly dejected to have no living companion with which to share the efforts, Ethan shuffled out of the chest and retrieved the key to the restraints.
“Not going to finish the task?” Bishop asked. “Getting out of the box is only half an escape, after all.”
“No,” Ethan said, unlocking the shackles. “No, I think that’s enough for tonight…”
He dried the sweat from his hands before putting on two gloves that appeared to be tailor-fit. The gloves disappeared instantly looking as though he wore nothing at all.
Ethan quietly placed the shackles back inside the chest and closed its lid. He doubted he would ever find himself in such a predicament - the inquisition saved such treatment for witches, it would seem, and he was no witch - but it felt like good practice just the same.
He wondered how hard it must have been for Vanja to spend so much time locked inside. By the look of the candle, he’d spent no more than four or five hours trapped. And all that time Roux was standing by to let him out if he couldn’t manage the task on his own.
At least… theoretically, he thought, listening to familiar breaths and watching as Roux passed a hand absently in front of his face, brushing aside a dream.
Vanja had no such comfort. Just months of pain and darkness. Ethan wondered how that might change a person.
The sun would be up shortly. Grimacing as he smelled himself, Ethan decided it was time for him to try a river bath. There was sure to be more to do in the days and nights that followed, more talks, more decisions, more unknowns and more surprises. He may as well face them cleanly.
And with the temperature of the water being near freezing, he was certain he would also face whatever challenges this day would bring quite awake.
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