Speaking of Dead

As morning dawned, Zan adjusted himself in the sturdy high-backed chair. Unable to sleep, he had come down to the infirmary to keep watch over the gnome. When he looked over, he immediately realized something was different. The gnome's steady, even breathing that he had grown accustomed to had changed. The creature tied to the wooden table was awake.

"How did you sleep?" The Chief asked casually.

The gnome chuckled. "And here I thought maybe I could get the jump on you…I slept well, though I think it has been quite some time."

"Nearly two weeks," Zan confirmed. He stood so that Gandr could see his face.

"Where am I? How am I alive?" The gnome strained against the ropes, but they were taut.

"Those are the last two questions you will get until you answer mine. You are in the infirmary, and I saved you."

"You saved me only to torture me," Gandr despaired.

"I saved you because you needed help. I hope I made the right call." Zan tap