43
Evelyn swears as she supports my weight and drags me towards the dungeons, but begrudgingly thanks Valérie as she puts an arm around my waist too, and the pair hold me between them.
I feel disgustingly weak, but I must have been drowned for a lot longer than Valérie, because although she was pulled up after me, she’s not having the difficulty breathing that I am.
“How can you be so OK?” I groan to her as they pull me along.
“I’m a professional ballet dancer; breathing techniques are important in dance. But I think probably it’s because deep-sea diving is my hobby,” she shrugs.
“Ya think?” Evelyn snorts.
“Oh yes,” Valérie nods, unaware of the sarcasm, “I can hold my breath for an extraordinary amount of time.”
I can’t help but laugh, which brings on another round of coughing.
As we reach the lower-level dungeon Sona pulls us to a stop and outlines where one of the clues indicates we have to go. Each of the underground dungeons we’d passed so far looked to be a courtroom. Coloured crosses on the timber doors also seemed to correlate with team colours.
“Evidently, we’re going to stand trial,” Sona says quietly.
“On what charges?” Thorun frowns.
“It’s not real, Thorun,” Evelyn rolls her eyes.
“It feels pretty fucking real,” I groan, coughing and pulling away from her and Valérie to follow Sona.
“You know what I mean,” Evelyn snaps.
“We’re obviously being tried for witchcraft,” Sona says as she walks ahead, “and most likely going to be tortured to get confessions. I wonder if they’ll use hot wax? Or maybe ropes? I do like ropes.”
“Fokk,” Thorun whispers.
“What else did you expect?” Valérie whines. “What else could we expect? Why should we anticipate anything other than torture from these Games? Why does love have to be such torture?”
“Valérie,” I snarl, “I’m going to fucking murder you here and now if you don’t quit that whining.”
“She will,” Sona says over her shoulder, “she definitely will.”
Valérie, perhaps taking the hint, says nothing more.
After a few more minutes of fast walking — there’s no point trying to run, I just can’t — we reach the room Sona has been heading to, and Evelyn groans.
In the middle of the room is a chair, and beside it a bucket of water and a dirty cloth.
“Dio Santo,” I whisper.
Thorun whimpers.