45
“Think, Evelyn, and get the fucking answer right this time, you self-absorbed bitch,” I snarl as Thorun undergoes more water torture and Sona, dressed as a judge, prepares to read the question out again.
Our roles were set when we entered the room. One at a time we’ll each play a part: the accused, the judge/accuser, the witness, the torturer.
The only way the accused can be set free is if the witness answers a series of generic questions correctly.
I have to assume the producers know the answers to these questions already, because both the question and answers are written on slips of paper, and so far, each one has fit exactly with the information we’d all shared about one another.
If the witness gets an answer wrong, the accused gets tortured.
Once we’ve all answered our questions accurately through this torture test, we’ll head to the next room and the next round of torment, the stretching rack.
After two rounds of trials we head to the next part of the contest. The only one not participating in our current trial is Valérie, because she’s not technically part of our team, just a hanger-on.
Right now, I’m the torturer.
“Witness,” Sona bangs her gavel. “What is something the accused collects?”
“Shit, shit, shit,” Evelyn squeezes her head. “I don’t know. I’m trying to think, but she talks so much I zone out sometimes. Who wouldn’t? Ah, um…wait. Wait, ah, eggs. She collects eggs.”
“Wrong,” Sona sighs, banging the gavel again and nodding to me.
“Cazzo, Cazzo, Cazzo,” I groan, pouring more water onto the cloth already pushed as far as it will go down Thorun’s throat, effectively making it feel like she’s drowning. After my experience in the river it’s not a feeling I’d wish on anyone, and definitely not one I want to inflict.”
Thorun’s eyes roll, and I grimace as I complete the torture and look back up at Sona.
“Evelyn,” I growl, “are you doing this deliberately?”
“What? No!”
“Then get it right this time, or I’m going to take a fucking, fucking, fucking long time answering any questions about you when we switch roles.”
“Witness,” Sona bangs the gavel again and asks with resignation, “For the third time. What is something the accused collects?”
“Glass,” Evelyn says, her eyes lighting up as she becomes more confident in her answer, “she collects bits of coloured glass from the seashore. Seaglass.”
“Correct. And the purpose of her collection? Is it witchcraft?”
“No. She’s an amateur oil artist. She sells her little paintings of the sea and island creatures to tourists. She displays them in the local minimart. She likes to hold the glass up to the light and consider its colours. She uses it as inspiration for her seascapes.”
“Correct.”
Sona sighs in relief and nods to me.
Tearing the cloth out of Thorun’s mouth, I untie her hands and lean her forward to pat her on the back as Sona steps down from the bench and Evelyn takes Thorun’s place in the chair.
Helping Thorun to her feet, I push the robes into her hands and guide her to the bench as I take my place on the witness stand, and we start all over again.
When our task is finally complete and we’re all looking like half-drowned rats and feeling mostly dead, we head to the next room, and the rack.
All I can say is that, Evelyn aside, I thank fuck we listened to each other’s stories when we had the chance.
The screams from other dungeons would suggest others hadn’t been so diligent.