Gilsel lay on the bed beside him, on him in part, and he hugged her tightly against his side. Since she had taken the habit of sleeping with him, and furthermore since they got married, he was finally able to sleep peacefully. That night, though, her soothing presence was not enough to dismiss a feeling of uneasiness, but he blamed that on the fact that it was one of the last nights they were going to spend in Bree-Land. For the next two weeks, at least.
He woke up what felt like two or three hours later. It was dark and his vision was blurred, but he could immediately make out that he was not in his bedroom. Nor anywhere else inside his house, nor anywhere else near his house. The second thing he realised, as he sat up, was that he had been sleeping on some wood, presumably in an alley since he recognised the profile of some buildings.
Impossible. I was definitely sleeping in my bed, I must be...
A harsh slap reached his cheek. "Dreaming, parasite? Get him up."
He was grabbed under the armpits and hoisted up, then a second slap sent him back down on the hard wood.
"Wake the fuck up, little daisy, you're not a fun show if you're asleep."
He was hoisted up a second time and pushed forward, which caused him to slip off a ledge of sorts and fall face first on the dry dirt of an alley. Consciousness and sight came back to him completely and he finally could understand the situation. His hands were tied behind his back, and the thing he just fell from was a cart. He rolled over onto his back and sat up, not without difficulties.
"Well? Get up, you lazy arse!" the voice spoke a third time.
He looked up towards the source, and fear grasped him when he saw what him and the man had in common: the skin tone. He was pulled up from behind a third time, but he saw no one when he turned to look at the second captor. The town, which he recognised as his hometown, was completely deserted.
The first captor hopped off the cart and grabbed his hair, pulling him along for a good quarter-mile before eventually pushing him forward and sending his face against the dirt once more. He flicked up his gaze and widened his eyes in horror: the corpse of his father Joche hung before him, the neck through a noose and the face decaying. He got up on his knees, but as he looked up at the corpse he saw another one next to it. And another, and another, and yet another, a seemingly endless crowd of hung people. He crawled along the line, watching their faces in horror, but unable to either stop or look away.
All the people he knew from his town, all hung and rotting; his chief-coordinator, in a slightly better shape; his mother; his brother Charuk, better still; Yapha, his sister; the mother of Yapha and Charuk; Sehtla, the merchant's daughter; Egeril, her cheeks still rosy. And lastly, standing on a horse, her hands tied behind her back and the noose not yet pulling on her neck...
Gilsel!
She tried her best to keep an emotionless face, looking almost like a mannequin. She was in facts so convincing that Ghali found himself wondering whether or not it was her herself. Behind her was his captor. He grinned devilishly at Ghali, he took a handful of the woman's rear - causing her face to twist in the slightest of grimaces which, in turn, gave the worst possible answer to her husband's doubt - and he then addressed the man, his voice full of hate and spite:
"You're next, traitor."
He let go of the woman and lashed at the horse's bottom with a thin stick. The beast sprung forward, and Gilsel's feet were no longer supported by its back.
