Since their arrival at the Novikov hideout, the islanders were kept on the side of the camp, right by the wall, with their hands tied behind their backs. The only other precaution their captors took was a thick rope, attaching their restraints to a sizable rock, jutting from the ground by the wall. For the most part, they were left on their own, to do as they please. Which, considering the situation, obviously wasn't much - there's only so many times one can count the crates, make note of the guards' routines and plan the escape, once their binds come off.

Every once in a while someone came to check up on them and give them some water, but otherwise the only supervision was someone having them at a corner of an eye.

The Novikov goons were bored out of their skulls. They seemed not to care about pretty much anything, apart from playing cards or dice and drinking booze, which in this camp was plentiful. Every now and then an argument erupted, probably over who cheated and who didn't, and then died down as quickly as it started. It was obvious that the guys treated the entire situation as a well-earned break from the usual chores, and decided to make the best of it.

With the exception of Olga, who just couldn’t find a place for herself. She took a short nap after she delivered the hostages, then practised some fencing, then did an extensive physical exercise routine. Then she tried to join her companions in a game of dice, took a few shots, consumed a couple of brews, but quickly got bored. At some point she came to the islanders, probably wanting to talk, but after staring at them awkwardly for a few moments, she turned on her heel and walked away.

Nobody really paid attention to Niven, or a barely noticeable sour scent in the air around the captives.

-“Maani” - whispered Niven - “Wi a get outta yah.”

-“How coum?” - responded Maanica in a similar tone, making sure her lips moved as little as possible. 

“Dat book da leidi Katarina did gi mi.  By dem 'Artionax-sumtin'.  Mi practiced.”

-”Wah book? Di kinehex one?”

-”Yah.  Mi jus untangled mi binds an am a wuk on yuh. Jus nuh run onto dem once mi dun.”

Indeed, at the same moment Maanica felt some movement around her wrists. The rope tying her hands together started to wiggle, move and slide on her hands as if on its own. It was a weird sensation, as the rope positively buzzed and vibrated a little bit, sometimes uncomfortably digging into her wrists, but whatever Niven was doing, it seemed to be working. After a scorer her binds were very much completely loosened and the painful pins and needles in her fingers told her that blood is once again flowing freely. It felt as if she could just straight away get her hands on a blade and get out of the place.

-”Rite. Wah now?” - whispered Maanica - “Wi cyaan jus attack dem too bai an dat ooman a still yah.”

-”Mek wi wait ah bit mabi an opening wi present itself.”

-”Wi need tuh git a go before dem fine out dat wi a free-ish.”

There was an uncomfortable silence, lasting a few long drips, during which Niven stared into the distance with an embarrassed expression.

-”I shud hab did tink ah dis before Shud mi not?”

-”You shud. Now wi need tuh git sneaky bout ih.”

-”Give mi ah thiscoh Mi wi tink ah sinting.”

-”So will mi Niv.”

Niven once again studied the camp's layout, the poles upholstering tent roofs, stacks of crates around them. What did their captors do? Where did they go to take a piss? Where could the weapons be? Where are the best places to defend?

Alexei was reading a book, or at least flipping the pages of a book from time to time, mostly ignoring everyone and everything. He was sitting on a jute sack with his back against a stack of crates. Three of his men, on the opposite side of the camp, were busy playing dice. One was working near the fire, preparing another meal. Which apparently included passionately chopping a piece of dried meat into tiny little pieces. Right next to him was that wobbly, steel cauldron, filled with boiling water and, judging from the smell, a variety of vegetables. And Olga? Ah, Olga was at the edge of the camp, murdering a training dummy. For the umpteenth time.

Both prisoners were busy observing and then whispering to each other,  exchanging insights and plans, and obviously looking for an opportunity to escape, when a sudden, extremely loud boom echoed through the canyon. A powerful gust of wind, originating from the entrance, whipped the dust from the ground. The islanders' ears started ringing.

-”WHAT AN ACTUAL FUCK!?” - shouted Alexei, apparently also affected by the noise. He jumped off the sack, and seeing that all his minions were shocked and confused, he belched in a powerful, commanding voice - “Olga! Get your arse here! You three! Stop fucking around, get your guns and blades! Kristoff, stop cooking, keep an eye on those two! I bet this is this Beorg guy’s foreplay!”

-”Mi fuckin hope suh.” - muttered Niven, not quite knowing whether to be relieved or concerned. Either way, he concluded that an opportunity to escape might just have presented itself.