Soon Daeg arrived with the sleeping and healing draught. Rhys did not even try to question him. He was just as reserved and purposeful as Ingwaz and Ansuz.
He, too, drew his hand across the boy's forehead. For a moment, something like joy flickered across his face.
"This might be a good sign," Rhys thought.
He drank the liquid dutifully and laid his head down to sleep. He wanted to be brought before the Committee and to find his way home from here.
"Ingwaz and Ansuz care that my soul and my mind be at peace as well," he concluded.
He wanted to fall asleep as quickly as possible, so he would not dwell on his meeting with Mirael, so that any lingering questions would not disturb him.
Fortunately, what he felt was only awe and joy.
In the morning, he did not wake before Ansuz and Ingwaz arrived.
As they had done before, they both checked whether he could be brought before the Committee or not.
Rhys held his breath as he waited for the day's judgment.
The two of them merely exchanged a glance.
"Come," Ingwaz said curtly.
Rhys obediently climbed out of bed. He did not even straighten his clothes. The Committee would not care whether his garments were wrinkled or untidy. He would put himself in order once he returned to his own people.
The boy had not yet been outside his room. Ever since he had been brought here, he had been instructed to rest.
"I hope it won't be that uncomfortable carriage taking me before the Committee," he thought quietly.
The door of his room opened onto a corridor so long that he could not see its end. It was lit so brightly that it almost immediately hurt his eyes, forcing him to squint.
He hoped he would not have to walk the length of the corridor.
But he did.
"Along the way, you will find exactly what you must," Ansuz explained.
The two of them did not accompany him.
Rhys was not afraid. With every step he took forward along the corridor, the light seemed to shine through him more and more.
He was almost at the end of the corridor. He looked at his hands. They had become nearly transparent.
No Committee was waiting for him.
He woke to the sound of someone shoving a plate of food under the door.
"Hey, at least check on him! Let's not feed a corpse," a gruff voice said.
"I'm not in the mood to fuss over corpses. You go—you're the one who hit him on the head," another voice snapped back.
Rhys did not move. He already suspected that wherever they wanted to feed him, they did not intend to kill him.
He was still thirsty. He hoped that if one of the arguing men had had the nerve to strike him on the head, he would also have the courage to check whether he was alive.
After a long bout of clattering, a figure finally entered the room. Rhys had never seen him before. He did not know why this man had struck him.
"He's alive," the man called out to the other.
Then he picked up the plate of food and carried it over to the boy.
"Now eat. It's not my fault your head is so soft!"
He even gave him a brief, encouraging pat on the side.
"Could I have some water?" the boy asked hopefully.
"Hey, you left the jug downstairs again," the man barked back into the corridor.
No one answered. The other had long since moved on.
Still, Rhys was not left thirsty. The one who had struck him from behind handed him his own flask.
The boy drank greedily before asking anything else.
"So… can I go home now?"
"You'll go home, yes. First Drakthor will interrogate you—and who knows when that will be," the gruff man replied, almost kindly now.
Rhys reached for the food. Well, if that was the case, he might as well eat.
"Why was I brought here at all?"
"We saw you lurking by the river. We were carrying out orders—that's why we detained you," the man answered.
Rhys did not want to ruin the friendly tone by mentioning that his arrest had also involved a blow to the head. The gruff man did not bring it up again either.
Before leaving, he even left his flask behind so the boy could drink from it as much as he liked.
"I had a strange dream," Rhys thought—yet something kept nagging at him that it had not been just a dream.
In any case, he would report everything to the others in detail.
He had no idea how long he would have to wait for the hearing, but by now he was certain of one thing: they were not going to kill him.