While Silhouine and their captor conduct an increasingly far-fetched conversation, Yael looks around. They’re still in the city: she can make out Grandfather Gate through a glassless window. No passersby–the second floor, then? Or higher? Her hands are bound. The guards are burly but few.
She can get out of here, but she probably can’t take Silhouine with her.
“Inexpensive melon?” she tries, in her native language, in case he knows any of the old code words. “Unfortunate plover?”
The man in the red cassock freezes, alarmed. “Did she just cast foreign magic on me?”
“Yes!” says Silhouine.