Did Gavin think that his prisoner would be so inflamed by green that he would just charge down the hallway, like a mad dog seeking freedom?
No, that wasn’t how Gavin worked. He would know that Dazen, having been tricked into losing his luxin when he moved between the blue prison and the green one, would be extra cautious here. Surely the first thing Gavin would have thought of was the first thing Dazen was thinking of now.
And having thought of it, Gavin would have a plan. Gavin would have some kind of trap waiting. Once Dazen moved down that hallway, something would happen that would rob him of the green luxin.
So Dazen sat, thinking. The trigger on the trap—for surely, surely, there must be a trap—might be at any point in that hellstone tunnel. Until Dazen had a plan, he’d be a fool to go into the tunnel looking for it.
And he’d be a fool to sit too long waiting and planning. Gavin could be back at any moment. Coming to visit, coming to gloat. How Dazen wanted to smash that monster’s grinning face in!
He sat and ate, casting his mind about, searching, searching.
Knowing it was second best, he got up after a while and stood at the mouth of that tunnel to hell, the tunnel to the yellow prison. Very carefully and very slowly, he drafted and sealed a long thin stick out of green luxin. He probed the mouth of the tunnel, looking for tripwires concealed in the darkness.
No, this was hopeless. If he was paranoid, he’d never get out of here. He had to act boldly, had to take his own fate in his hands and smash through Gavin’s plans, destroy them. He couldn’t let himself be trapped here. He had to go, now! He had to—
Slow down, Dazen. That’s the green talking. You’re weak, the luxin has more power over you when you’re exhausted and sick.
Dazen released the green, emptied himself of it completely.
Without it, he felt wrung out, unbearably tired. No, the weakness was too great. If he didn’t take the green again, he’d sleep, and sleeping, he’d give Gavin time to come back—
But if he took the green, he’d do something stupid, just as Gavin expected. He’d fall right into the next trap, and that might leave him in a worse place than ever before. A yellow prison could well be unbreakable. He’d been lucky in the green. Gavin had made a mistake, letting him get blue bread. Dazen couldn’t count on that twice. He needed to make that one mistake count.
He imagined Gavin coming back down here, grinning that lopsided grin at him, taunting—
Wait. Gavin came down here. When Gavin came down here, he had to traverse this geometrical space.
Even without luxin, Dazen felt a burst of energy, life. Gavin came down here. That meant he had tunnels. He came close enough that he could talk to Dazen. That meant those tunnels were very, very close.
If Dazen could find one of those tunnels, he wouldn’t simply get past the yellow prison, he’d break out of all of the prisons. He didn’t have to break out of each in turn, he could simply leave.
Salvation was that close. His heart leapt. His heart burned within him. It was as if his fever was still burning him.
No, this was real joy. It had been so long since he’d felt it, he almost didn’t recognize the giddy, skittish thing. He laughed aloud. Then he started moving around the chamber surrounding the great green egg that had been his prison, knocking on the walls.
Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tap. Tap, tap, tonk.
Tonk, tonk, tonk. The hollow sound was like a choir singing the Sun Day salutations.
Just to be sure, just to be careful, Dazen checked the rest of the chamber. Nothing. This one section, almost four paces long, was the thinnest. He looked for hidden hinges, but he couldn’t find any. Not that he expected them. After the prison was finished, Gavin doubtless would have fully sealed the tunnel. No reason to leave a weakness where Dazen might find it.
Going back to the green cell was like going back to scoop up his own vomit and eat it. But back he went. Shivering with revulsion, he clambered through the hole he’d made and grabbed the husk of his blue bread.
He’d left all of the crust, broken open now to give him the maximum surface from which to draft.
He climbed back out of the green cell, but stood in its light. It took him another quarter of an hour to draft enough blue. It was a relief, though, when it came. The clarity of blue was a boon. He’d lived with blue for sixteen years, and he needed it. With the blue slowly filling him, he became aware once again of how fragile his health was. It had only been months since his fever had passed. The nasty cut across his chest had mostly healed in a nasty scar. His body had won the fight against the infection, but that didn’t mean he was up to full strength.
He didn’t know how long he had. He needed to blast the wall open, draft green for the necessary strength, and go as fast and far as he could. Once he found a safe place, he could worry about healing. It was a gamble, and his blue self hated gambles, but this was a gamble he had to play or die.