The memory of Idmaer plagued Edoma, preventing any semblance of a good night’s rest. He had looked so helpless in shackles. She knew him to be anything but, even bound in chains she could see his mind working to figure a way out of it. But there wasn’t such a way. He was no longer the man she had loved, if that man had ever even existed. To think he had stolen the grimoire from the First Priest’s tomb, all those years ago, and never told her about it. And then he had used the magic therein to kill Nanbir. The most troubling thing was the reason; she couldn’t think of one. Why would he do such a thing?
Still, she was glad she had spoken out to save Idmaer’s life. Perhaps she was simply stalling the inevitable; Sigebert and Cenred’s …show more content…
Open the bloody cell!”
Baldur fumbled for the keys on his belt and quickly unlocked the cell door. Edoma entered the cell and barked at Baldur to get someone to relieve him. He obeyed, stumbling as he did so.
Edoma soaked the hem of her dress with the water skin and wiped Idmaer’s bloodied face. He moaned, but his eyes didn’t open. She grabbed either side of him, careful of the lesions from the scourging, and rolled him over. The lightness of his body came as no surprise. She remembered when he was well muscled with a thick layer of fat, but that had been before stress and old age had taken its toll. Now he was frail, and beaten besides. With his body already weak, he might not survive the night.
The wounds on his back were fiery and swollen, begging to be dressed. He cried out as she washed them. Pieces of gravel fell from the wounds. Someone must have beaten him more after the courthouse meeting.
Edoma thumbed her pockets, hoping to find something to fashion a poultice. Her pockets were empty. She peered out into the passageway. No one had come to relieve Baldur yet. She palmed the runestone and used Idmaer’s own blood to ward his back. One of the benefits of protection spells was that they also helped to fight off