The Dungeon Keeper – Part 2: Daylight

She kept him through the night as a good Keeper should. She returned every hour with the lantern and the ring of keys, and inspected him, and the cell, with solemn thoroughness. She had him stand against the wall, hands behind him, while she read a long, absurd indictment of his crimes against the Crown. She made him kneel on the straw and recite the Articles of the Keep until the words rang. She brought him bread and water and fed him with her own hand, slowly, watching his face. She corrected him with two gloved fingers under his chin and a short, cold word, and all the time the cellar dripped and echoed around them, and the whole of the world outside ceased to exist.

It was strict and ceremonial and deeply, unmistakably affectionate.

At each bell of the tower clock: "Does the captive wish to continue?" "I do, Keeper." "Say it clearly." "I do. Thank you."

"The Keeper does not require thanks." But the lantern showed a smile.

At half past two she sat down on the cold flagstone outside the open door, her back against the wall, and said nothing for a long time.

"Daylight," said Brunhilde, softly.

It was her word, and she used it for them both. The cloak slid from her shoulders. The keys were laid on the floor with a soft iron chink. She came into the cell and sat on the narrow stone ledge beside him and wrapped a blanket round them both.

"How are you?"

"Captured," said Lucian, with a laugh that wavered. "Kept. And very, very rested."

"Good." She kissed his forehead. "You were a superb prisoner."

"Will there be a ransom?"

"I'm drawing up the terms." She smiled in the dark. "They involve a very long stay."

"I'll see my solicitor," said Lucian.

"You'll see the Keeper," said Brunhilde, and the lantern burned on.

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