The old man did not react until a few moments later. He lifted his quilt slowly, moved to the edge of the bed, and looked the archbishop in the eye.
"If you were locked up in this goddamned place, could you eat anything?" When he spoke, his voice was obscured, as if his throat was tight. "Half a year has passed, and I've been locked here for half a year. Without a word from the outside. How're my sons? What about my daughters?"
Mayne noticed that there were dints all over the wall, which seemed to have been scratched with nails. Did the old man count the days this way?
He pulled a chair in front of the king. "Do you have to ask about these unpleasant things?"
The other party remained silent for a moment before he spoke again. "I'm of no use anymore. Are you coming to finish me off?"
"Yes."
