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Inzillomí had fallen surprisedly to the floor. Though it had not hurt, the shocked expression the flitted across her delicate features was enough to convince the Guards that Azarmanô had been none too gentle. As he bound her chained armed to a cell, the Guards snorted inappropriate comments and guffawed over their tasteless jokes in a manner far too uncouth to repeat.
Inzillomí blushed faintly over the insinuations and felt sick to a point of tears over the idea that these men believed their words and actions to be perfectly acceptable. Azarmanô ignored their talk, seeing that retaliation would bring death swiftly. He poured the drinks.
She huddled uncomfortably as far from the drunken gaze of the Guards as she could, relying on Azarmanô completely. Should things go wrong, she was much in a terrible position to do anything. Though to a sober man of honor she might well be able to speak her way into safety, with these drunken louts, she doubted very much they would heed her words even if she had not been chained in such a way as befits a murderer.
She fell within her own thoughts for a short time, plotting and devising. The northern tower... she considered, ignoring the alcohol-induced affection that allowed for several toasts in Azarmanô's honor. That will be where my husband lies... Azarmanô will be able to accompany me.. the prisoner... she thought with a grimace... to the highest security area. What of our two companions? Thoronmir cannot be seen... he is far too much a liability should he be recognized. Abarzadan seems to have much on his mind. Perhaps to send them back into the city to scout possible escape routes?
Suddenly Inzi felt a change in her position and snapped back to reality in a shot. Azarmanô was untying her from the cell with an apologetic look. She shrugged it off as a necessary discomfort and looked admiringly at his unconscious handiwork. She submitted her suggestions for their easily traceable companion and their mysterious-as-ever one and waited, still chained, for Azarmanô's response.
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