30: Ornejirhs

[Start from the beginning]

Calleslyn awoke suddenly. She felt refreshed, invigorated, as if she had just had a long nap and was ready to face the new day. And yet… she was sitting on a small, backless armchair, bound to it by her wrists, and with her ankles also tied together. There was a man sitting across from her.

“Welcome back,” said the man, “it would seem I owe you an apology.”

“You attacked me!” snapped the elf, as her memory returned.

“In fairness, you had just attacked my fighting companion. What was I supposed to infer?” His voice was calm, sounding reasonable, and almost affronted by the accusation.

“And now you’ve kidnapped me.”

“That was a necessary precaution. I did not know how you would react when you woke. I have not treated you badly.”

Glancing around to gain her bearings, Calleslyn had to admit that things could have been worse. She was not in a dungeon, or anything of that kind, although neither was she in the house where she had first encountered the pair. Instead, she was in what appeared to be a tent, a large and luxurious one of red and gold cloth, with soft cushions and mats upon the ground. The chair she was sitting in was padded, and would have been comfortable had she not been bound to it… with, she now noticed, white cords of silk that were tied firmly, but not overly tight.