71

For lunch, the prisoner of the Calpe fortress was served a bowl of thick and hot soup-puree, in which pieces of chopped herbs and rare meat fibers floated, a single crispy cracker rubbed with salt and garlic, instead of bread, and a decent pile of stewed mushrooms, as well as all kinds of forest berries. The meal was composed rather strangely, the abundance of gifts of the forest and the lack of habitual food were especially surprising, and in a wooden mug there was the most ordinary water, judging by the temperature, recently boiled. Suspicion aside, Tobius quickly finished his meal, licked his spoon, saved half the glass for later, and tried to sleep.

Even the dimmest light no longer filtered through the narrow gap in the shutters when the sounds of someone's footsteps and the uneven light licking the eyelids were driven out of the prisoner's restless slumber.

“Light the candles, please,” a rough male voice asked. “Char, if you try to fool around, my friend will bite your face off.

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