“It’s not wasting,” Briony says, scowling at me and unscrewing the lid. “Help him up.”
This man could be cursed, or dangerous. This feeble act could be a trap, one we’re walking into.
I go to point all this out, but Dray’s already crouched down too, sliding his arms under the man’s shoulders and gently lifting him slightly. Briony brings the rim of the bottle to the man’s lips and pours the water into his mouth. At first he splutters, and chokes but then he finally manages to swallow a few mouthfuls.
Briony tips the bottle away, and Dray lays him back down.
“Th-thank you,” he says, his voice scratchy like he hasn’t used it in a long time.
“Who are you?” Briony repeats.
“It’s been so long,” the old man says, “I’m not sure I remember.”
“What are you doing here, Sir?” I ask him.
“Where is here?” he says, his features scrunching up in confusion.
“The Demon Realm, Sir,” I tell him.
The old man’s body shudders. “Ahhh, yes the demons.” His gaze floats around the room, as if he’s looking for them. “Are you demons?”
“No, we’re shadow weavers,” I tell him. “And Briony is a lumomancer.”
“A lumomancer,” he says. “There hasn’t been one of those in many, many years. You must be special. Who brought you here? Was it her?”
“Who?” I say, suddenly more alert to his words.
“Huh?” he says.
“You asked if it was her? Who do you mean?”
He stares up at us in even more confusion.
“Why are you here?” he asks us.
“We’re looking for a friend,” Briony tells him.
“The Empress has sent us on a mission,” I correct
Briony ignores my interruption. “A man. Have you seen him?”
“You’re the first I’ve seen in many, many years.” Something catches in his throat, and he coughs, his old eyes watering. “Water,” he croaks.
Dray lifts him again and Briony offers him more of the liquid.
“Do you want food?” Briony asks, but he shakes his head. “Do you know where the man – our friend – could be?”
“You must be very good friends,” he mumbles, his eyes drifting shut, “no one has come for me in all this time.”
His eyes remain shut and it’s clear he’s fallen asleep.
I pull Briony up to her feet and take her to one side, the others following us.
“This makes no sense,” I say, “he can’t really have been here all that long. He wouldn’t have survived.”
“He must be a prisoner. Like Fox,” Briony says. “What are we going to do with him?”
“Do?” Dray says.
