Jiub scratched his head and sat on his haunches alone after the stranger had left him behind. It was just as well that he was alone, he thought to himself. The stranger had been poor company anyway.
His stomach growled loudly, and he put a grayish blue hand over it in reaction. A gnawing hunger would soon be the least of his worries. It had been days since he had eaten, though the scars from the torture he had received at the hands of Morius Callis were starting to heal. Though he was innocent of his charges, Jiub swore that he would one day gain revenge upon the Imperial Watchman who had damaged him so fiercely.
With the memory of his torture fresh in his mind, the sharp pain of the scar that crossed his face from temple to jaw began to irritate him again. He closed his remaining red eye and gritted his teeth against the pain.
The guard that had let the stranger go returned to the brig.
"You, Jiub," the human spat. "I've got bread for you if you want it. But you'd best hurry, I think the rats may have started in on it."
Jiub grumbled, but forced himself to his feet. A wave of dizziness swept over him, and he suddenly felt very tired. Even in his youthful days as an urchin on the streets of Cheydinhal he had never known such hunger.
"Follow me," the guard said.
Jiub steadied himself against the wall as the guard turned and left. He took a breath to calm his nerves, and then followed the guard out of the tiny storeroom that was being used as his holding cell.
His footsteps were made more unsteady by the rocking of the deck beneath his feet, and a swelling nausea crept up in his belly. He had been on the ship for seven days already and rode out a storm without vomiting, but for some reason the calmer waters moving around the sloop now were worse. His appetite lost volume as his nausea grew and he hoped he'd be capable of stomaching whatever leftovers he was about to receive.
"Are you going to be sick?" the guard asked. Jiub could tell the guard was just ahead of him now, he'd finally caught up. "I could get you a bucket."
"I'll be fine," grumbled Jiub. His voice sounded hoarse coming out of his dry throat. "You said there was bread?"
"Yes, and fresh water," the guard said. The harshness of the guard's tone belied the underlying kindness of his actions.
Jiub didn't complain as his eyes met the rusted iron plate with a half loaf of bread and the plain wooden chalice and clay bottle beside it. He used the last of his willpower to kneel calmly in front of the crate on which his dinner had been set and eat like a decent being.
"You eat slowly," remarked the guard. "You're not hungry?"
Jiub nodded and grunted through a mouthful of bread. When he swallowed he replied, "Hunger is a poor reason to forget my manners."
The guard seemed surprised at that answer, but remained silent as Jiub carried on eating.
Jiub finished eating and took a big swig of water from the clay bottle. To Jiub's immense surprise, the entire meal had been of adequate quality. It was certainly no great feast, though the water was cooler than room temperature and the bread was not stale.
"Put the bottle down and let's go," said the guard. "You're not to mention this to anyone, it's part of my ration for the rest of the journey. I'm trying to convince them to let you up on deck for a few minutes every day, but the Lieutenant is less than thrilled with that idea."
"I appreciate your kindness, Guardsman," Jiub said. "May I at least have the pleasure of your name?"
"In due time," said the guard. "For now, back to the brig."
With what little energy the meal had given him, Jiub stood and returned to his cell with the guard on his heels.
Jiub resumed his seat in the brig with his back against a barrel. He closed his eyes as the rocking of the vessel around him caused the bread to rise in his gullet. He resolved that he would not question the guard's niceties as long as they were offered. He was not known for his wisdom back in Cheydinhal, but in the courts of the White Gold Tower he was known as a gentleman and a scholar.
He reflected upon his transition from life on the streets to the high courts of Imperial society, and in so doing remembered his mentor, Balen Tong.
Balen was so intelligent, Jiub thought to himself. But he was also so perceptive; he had always seen Jiub's potential where Jiub hadn't.