"Are you awake?"
"I wasn't—until you woke me," said Jotan testily.
"I think somebody stepped on my fingers," the first voice said. "They feel like it, anyway."
"You must have rolled over on them, Javan. Go back to sleep."
Tharn followed the conversation with interest, surprised that he could understand the words. He waited patiently and without panic for the speakers to act or to return to sleep.
"I tell you, my hand was stepped on," Javan insisted.
"What are you two talking about?" broke in a third voice.
"Javan claims someone has been walking on him," explained Jotan. "Make a light; he'll not sleep until we search the place."
Tharn heard one of the men rise and fumble about in a corner of the room. Suddenly a flame sputtered and took hold, lighting the room's interior with a feeble glow.
Waiting no longer, Tharn twisted the latch and tried to draw open the door. But something had gone wrong; he could not stir the heavy planks.