When I returned to my small office I found my chair had been moved to be beside the window. Benevolently one of the smaller tables had been pushed beside it and several canteens of water had been placed there, as well as a stack of trail ration food. I did not ask where Morningstar had gotten such things. Having not seen him for a millennia I did not know the sorts of power he currently wielded. Precisely why he was obsessed with collecting my power I was unsure, but he had always had a small pleasure in adding any of our close siblings to his hoard. Apparently I was something to be desired, likely because I had managed to get away from him for such a long time, having been in fealty to another, yet it still was odd of the lengths he was willing to go through.

Wordlessly, I strode past him when I came back, and dropped into the chair. Morningstar leant back against my desk as he idly waved a hand and unsurprisingly magical metallic bonds bounced out of the wood. Yawning slightly I watched with indifference as they settled themselves over my ankles, around my chest and wrists. My right wrist, the one near the table, ended up with a manacle and a chain, that allowed me just enough room to move to pick up the food and water. This, I found intriguing and tested it a couple of times, the links of the chain chiming like bells.

“It would be irritating to have you suffer,” he grunted as he pushed away from the desk. “Dying of starvation is not pleasant.”

“Not done that one, but I have died of thirst a few times,” I answered, counting the bottles.

There were six, probably just enough for me to survive, as long as I was sparing. With a set of cold and wet weather prophesied by the Aleraran weather detectors I should be comfortable. The trail rations would be plenty. With a generally satisfied nod, I looked back to my captor who was not really.

“Can you get some books from the shelves, please?” I asked, my voice brightening a little. “Unless you want me to die from boredom. Which is possible.”

It was indeed, I had seen it. The heart just gives out, because it has nothing to live for. Surprisingly, also, it is possible to die from sadness, grief and loss; also known as a broken heart.

Morningstar snarled, but he grabbed two books at random from my shelf and shoved them on the arm of the chair. One was entitled, ‘Aim for the sky,’ which was a collection of stories and a theory on how reaching for the impossible would make you wealthy and happy, and the other was, ‘Halves’ which was arranged around the idea that intelligence and wisdom are two sides of the same coin, and how that fit with historical research. I was rather impressed with his choice, and nodded at Morningstar in agreement.

“They’re actually not too bad.”

“Oh shut up,” my brother sighed, rolling his eyes. “Just … don’t draw attention to yourself, and I will be back.”

Marvellously, I grinned at him, but I said no more, leaning back in my chair that was to be my home for the week. With small movements I tried the cuffs that held me in place, but found I had little movement, let alone strength to break from them. As I placed pressure into my toes to try to move the chair itself, I found I could not, and it was probable it had been bolted to the floor.

A brief smile fled across his lips, then he left, a faint click in the door as he locked me in.

When he returned was a week later, precisely almost to the second.