He was suffocating, he was suffocating and the walls within this tiny, strange cell were shrinking about him, pushing him deeper into the delirium. He closed his eyes tight, forcing down the panic as best he could. Focus, because Molly was talking and she was offering freedom. Valen opened his eyes and strained to look at her.
"I'll not be kept here," he said, "stick a shiv in me, sell me out to a slavey or whore me for a garrison moving toward Evanore. I will do anything but be kept in chains in this place." Or any place, when what he desired most was freedom. And maybe that freedom was dependent on her price, and her price was answers to her questions. He didn't know.
"I'm broken," he said at last, rasping. "I have been broken since the day I came from my mother's womb and sickness has left me thus. A blight upon my mind and body that..." how to describe it? "runs raw like Magrog himself is spitting fire through my veins and ravishes me body and soul."