The room was small and lit by a single candle on a wooden stool in the corner. A small wooden bed filled more than half the room. It looked comfortable, like the one in the village, with a cover and pillow. It’s my bed. Silas didn’t lie about that.
“You are not to leave or enter a room unless instructed to do so. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“This is your bedroom. No others or food allowed. You must empty your bucket daily.” The Shadow pointed at the bucket. “You will be shown where to do this tomorrow. Do you understand?”
Mara stared at the bucket. What will I put in it?
“Do you understand?”
He wanted to ask what he was supposed to put in the bucket, but the mask scared him, and he didn’t want to cause any more trouble for himself. The wrong question might make the lenience happen. “Yes.”
“You must sleep now. A brother will come for you in the morning.” The Shadow left and shut the door behind it.
He flopped onto the bed with a thud. It wasn’t as comfortable as the one in the village, not even close. But it was better than being tied to a chair and much better than the gap between the shacks.
He looked around the dusty room, then rolled onto his side and pulled the cover up to his neck. His head still hurt a little, and he was hungry, but that was okay. My own bed.
The pillow was too flat, so he folded it in half. There was a dark stain about the size of an apple on the other side of it. He stared at it for a while before he put it back flat. Blood. He wondered how much pain the person who’d bled on it had been in, and for him, how much pain there was to come.
Mara woke up once in the night and pissed in the corner of the room. The candle had gone out, and he tripped over the bucket on his way back to bed. “Ouch.” He kicked the bucket away, which hurt even more. Foot throbbing, he climbed back into bed. Stupid bucket, I’ll tell them I don’t want it.
The next time he woke, a Shadow stood next to his bed, the plain black mask illuminated by the candle it held. How long has it been here? Do I get up or wait for it to say something? He decided it would be best to wait to be told and tried his hardest not to move, even waiting as long as he could to blink.
“Rise,” the Shadow said.
Another man’s voice, different again. Mara got up.
“The bucket,” it sighed, “is for your waste. Do not piss on the floor. You are to clean that up later.”
It made sense that was what it was for. He felt stupid. “Sorry.”
“This way.”
Mara followed, pain stabbing through his foot. Stupid bucket.
The Shadow stopped after a few steps. “Shut the door.”
Mara did so and hurried back to pass through the large door. They were outside, sort of. He could see the black clouds as they swirled high above the tall stone walls.
The Shadow pointed at an open hole that ran along one wall. “Empty your bucket into the trench, then hang it up.” It pointed at one of many metal rods along the wall. “Collect it when you return to your room. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
There were no other buckets hung up. Am I the only one here?
The pain in his foot got worse as they continued, and he limped to ease the pain. The Shadow unlocked a metal gate, and they passed through into a large, high-walled, square yard with a sand floor. He could guess what the dark stains in the sand were, and he didn’t like it.
There was a different pain under his swollen foot. He scraped it on his trouser leg, and a tooth flicked away. The sight of it made him nervous. He didn’t want to be in this place. Maybe they’ll let me go if I ask them?
Two large wooden doors opened on the opposite wall. Two older boys, dressed in black, carried a long table into the middle of the yard. They looked beat up, their faces covered in scratches and bruises.
Four more boys, about Mara’s age, also dressed in black, carried out two benches and placed them either side of the table. They looked just as beat up. One of them had a bruise under his eye that stretched all the way to his chin. None of them looked at him before they left.
The Shadow pointed. “Against the wall.”
Mara was able to hover his foot off the floor as he leaned against the wall. The pain eased a little, but it still throbbed. The four younger boys returned, placed bowls and spoons on the table, then joined him on the wall. He looked at them, but they all faced straight ahead. The one closest to him had dried blood around his ear.