I Couldn't Sleep

It was late, or so I thought. There were no windows to show me the sun or moon—in fact, I didn't know if this world had a sun or a moon to begin with, or if the concepts of "day" and "night" were useful here at all. Marigold had fallen into a slumber on the cold, hard floor of the prison cell. I muttered something under my breath about how she should've at least used the bed, but it's not as though it would have been any more comfortable.

I knew I should rest, too, but various things kept popping up and turning over in my head. Lying down in such a restless state would only have irritated me, so I paced back and forth and tried to organize my thoughts. Ariel, Alithet, integrants, Estille, Divine Instruments, the "axis," and a hearing looming on the horizon... it was so much to take in all at once. I was anxious about the hearing. At first it had not worried me much, but with the full weight of the revelation that Ariel was my God, I had begun to feel a dreadful sense of remorse. In the old religions, people were the loyal servants of their deities, carrying out their divine will on the mortal plane and worshipping them with pure and undying faith. If there was some truth to those ancient tenets, then surely in handing over Alithet, and by extension Ariel, I had committed a grave sin. Perhaps to Estille and their allies, my guilt would be proof enough of my underlying fealty to Ariel, however abstract it was.

I stopped pacing and allowed my shoulders to slump, letting out a deep breath. Glancing at the sleeping witch in the corner made me feel slightly better for a moment, but I remembered how she had cried and my mood fell again. She seemed like a steady, no-nonsense type, but even she had her limits. Holed up in a prison cell in another world... it was certainly not an ideal situation for either of us, but for Marigold especially I could see how this would be quite the shock. I, however, was used to roadblocks and setbacks—nothing quite this extreme, of course, but things would turn out fine. Well, probably.

I spied Marigold's staff next to her, and my curiosity got the better of me. I tiptoed over and snatched it up, examining it. To me it seemed like nothing special; it was just a pleasantly-shaped stick. It was actually fairly weighty, and I gained some respect for Marigold carrying it around everywhere. As I stared down at it in my hands, I smiled sadly, recalling a time in my childhood when wizardry had been more appealing to me—not that magic had ever been anything particularly special, but my grandfather was a wizard and a great storyteller, and he had always made it seem more grand than in reality.

I was compelled to try casting a spell—one to help me sleep, perhaps—and so I copied the way Marigold did it to the best of my abilities: a wide stance, staff planted squarely in front, eyes closed. I focused and reached out with the same part of me I had used to access Alithet's power, and for a while there was nothing, but then I thought I saw a glint of something in the distance, in the darkness beneath my eyelids. It twinkled again, and I couldn't help but laugh in surprise. The twinkle disappeared instantly, as if my noise scared it off, and I quickly shut my mouth, remembering that there was someone sleeping nearby. I looked and saw the witch stir, and I froze.

Marigold looked up from the floor with a puzzled expression, then her eyes narrowed. "What are you doing?" she said dryly. I winced.

"Sorry—I, uh, don't know what came over me," I said, handing her staff back to her. "I couldn't sleep."

"So you were... playing with my staff?"

"I wasn't playing with it!" I snapped.

"Sure," she said, turning back away from me. "Just go to sleep."

"But, Marigold!" I said. "I saw something! There was a tiny light!"

"Yeah, yeah. Anyone can do that," she mumbled. Well, I had never done it before. I just thought it was kind of cool, but if it was something so simple... I felt embarrassed to have gotten so excited and sorry for waking up Marigold, so I decided to oblige her and crawled onto one of the concrete beds, using my cloak as a sort of cushion, although its effect was minimal.

"Marigold," I said, intending to apologize again, but she was already asleep, so once again I was left alone with my uneasiness. I tossed and turned for a good while, eventually giving up on getting into a comfortable position and falling still, and after some time I finally drifted off into an unsteady torpor that oscillated between light sleep and half-consciousness. It was the worst kind of rest, if you could even call it that—I was horribly aware of the slowness of time, and occasionally some vague notion of stress would rattle to life in my mind, and I would have to chain it down only for it to strain itself free minutes later.

Finally, there was a noise from outside the cell, and despite my attempts to sleep having gone less than smoothly I was glad to be freed from the responsibility of trying, which had been perhaps more tiresome than my exhaustion itself. A slot opened in the cell door, and a tray was slid in with so little care that one of the items on it fell off and rolled across the floor. Marigold shifted at the sound and groaned, rubbing her eyes. She looked around, seeming a little disoriented.

"Right," she said as she got her bearings.

"Morning," I said.

"Not a very good one."

"No."

"What's this?" she said, picking up the object that had rolled off the tray. It was some kind of round, grayish thing about the size of a bread roll. I got up and went to get a closer look at the other stuff on the tray. I didn't recognize most of it, but from the smell and arrangement of items, as well as the fact that there was some kind of slop in a bowl and a cup of what appeared to be water, I assumed that it was our breakfast. I picked up a purple slimy thing and sniffed it. It smelled kind of vegetable-like, but not like anything specific. I took a small, cautious bite. Yes, it was definitely a vegetable.

"Could use some more seasoning," I said.

"It's food?" Marigold said, looking closer at the gray object she held. She stuck out her tongue a little and tasted it.

"What are you doing?" I laughed. She scowled at me and took a bite. Her face scrunched up, and it looked like it was taking a lot of effort not to spit out whatever that thing was.

"It'sh sour!" she coughed. "Ah you sure we can eat this shtuff?"

"Surely they wouldn't give us something that'd kill us," I said.

"Dorn't theh kinda want to kill ush, though?" she said, with the mysterious morsel still cached in her cheek.

"Marigold, we talked about this," I sighed. "Please don't talk with food in your mouth. Anyway, there are clearly much easier ways for these beings to dispose of us than poison. We are in a different world; it is no surprise that their cuisine would be alien to us!"

She shut her eyes tight and forced herself to swallow. "Look, Godwin. We're in quite the predicament here, so you'll have to forgive me if my behavior isn't up to your standards. Now, would you give me that water—is that what that is? I have to get rid of this awful taste."

I took another bite of the purple vegetable, then picked up the water and took a swig of it myself before passing it to Marigold. She stared blank-faced at the water, then back at me.

"What?" I said, confused as to why she looked so dumbfounded.

"Why'd you do that?" she asked. What? Why did I give her the water?

"Well, you asked me to," I said. "Did you knock your head on the floor, or—"

"No, why'd you drink my water?"

"What?" I said. "There's only one cup."

She looked back down. "...Oh." She sat still for a moment before slowly raising the cup to her lips and drinking. Still baffled as to what was going on in her head, I looked on, brow furrowed. Her eyes made contact with mine and she quickly looked away.

"Why are you looking at me? Just eat, man," she said quietly.

"You're acting weird, Marigold," I said. "I understand the situation we're in is unusual, but we must stay true to ourselves." I checked through the items on the breakfast tray and handed Marigold the one that had the most appetizing scent. "Here, try this." We ate the rest of the food in silence, intermittently grimacing at the strange flavors and textures, and I could only hope that if—no, when we got out of prison, we would be able to find some nourishment more appealing to our palates.