Chapter Forty-Four

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Meyer spent the next four days locked in the dungeons below the High Manor. When he had first awakened from knocking himself out with Magic Burn, his mind was still tingling, but after a short period of concern his senses soon returned, and upon grasping tentatively for the Currents, he decided no permanent damage had been done. By the time a squadron of guards arrived that evening bearing dinner (the guards said the food was dinner—Meyer had no way to discern time of day) he had cast three particularly difficult free magic spells, definitively vanquishing his concerns.

But even as Meyer's worries regarding his magical sense abated, they were replaced with new forms of distress. The guards refused to speak with him, and when he finally fell asleep on the hard stone floor, his mind was plagued with thoughts of Eschera and The Magician.

Indeed over the next three days Meyer's mood ranged from fearful to vengeful to purposeful, but increasingly his energy was devoted to maintaining his sanity inside the near lightless prison cell. There was no sound to be heard besides his own breathing, and the cold, damp surfaces were inescapable. Occasionally he would slip the memory ring onto his finger, his mind would transported to a new dungeon as he experienced Sarn screaming in agony, but the alternate reality was even worse than his own. Soon Meyer stopped reliving Gibb's memory, and when he did impulsively jam the ring onto his finger, he would hastily remove it again.

As he quickly learned, the only break from the blackness came when twice a day four guards unlocked his cell to deliver food and exchange his chamber pot. Yet even these visits were depressing and hollow. The guards were always different, and they refused to speak with him. In his most desperate moments, Meyer resolved to attempt an escape, but whenever the guards arrived, he steadied his emotions. There was nowhere to run to, and he would inevitably be recaptured, earning him an even longer sentence.

And so Meyer fought to abide by reason, counting each visit of the guards to mark the passing time and clinging to the belief that he must only wait a bit longer—that Jebb was bound to release him soon...

But with each passing day he felt his hold on rationality weakening. There was only so long that he could maintain composure in a room the size of closet. When on the guards' tenth arrival they entered his cell, lifting him up from beneath his shoulders and marching him from the room, Meyer was so relieved he felt his eyes grow watery.

He blinked and clenched his fists. Jebb would pay.

But no sooner had he emerged from the dungeons than he found himself on the third floor of the High Manor, escorted into Jebb's office, and strangely he felt more nervous than vengeful. The four guards filed into the room behind him, and as Meyer entered he glanced around office. Similar to his memory, the space was small and cramped, most of it taken up by the large desk, and opposite the entrance hung the odious self-portrait of Jebb. The planar himself was sitting in an ornate chair behind his desk, and he looked up as Meyer entered.

"Ah, Meyer, very good to see you..."

Meyer kept his eyes on the ground, his fingers trembling slightly.

"It is customary to return eye contact when a superior is speaking," said Jebb.

Meyer clenched his jaw. Looking up, he slowly fixed his gaze on the Planar.

"I hope your time in solitary confinement has allowed you the opportunity to reflect on your behavior," said Jebb coldly.

But Meyer said nothing, his attention fixed on a crack in the wall behind Jebb. He couldn't bear standing before the Planar—hearing his petulant voice—he needed to be free of Jebb's sickening presence...

"It is customary to respond when a superior is speaking."

Meyer's eyes snapped back to Jebb, his heart pounding, but as he turned his gaze, he noticed another familiar face. Jato was standing in the corner of the room a few feet to the left of Jebb's desk. Meyer felt the heaviness in his stomach slightly grow lighter.

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