'I just do,' she said. 'Where is he?'
'Now, just a minute. You can't barge in here and demand to see the prisoner.'
Talsy pulled a sharp slither of wood from her jacket pocket, a weapon she had acquired in the gutter for protection. She pressed it to his gut and glared at him. 'Take me to him, now!'
Evidently her wild eyes, grim mouth and obvious desperation daunted the youth, who raised his hands and turned away. Talsy gripped his robe to prevent him from running and held her makeshift weapon next to his kidneys. He headed down the corridor and opened a door near the end, descended a flight of steps and opened another door. They entered a room that many lanterns lighted, where tables stood in rows, covered with strange paraphernalia and shiny instruments. Cages held rats and rabbits, and a group of men occupied the far corner, some leaning or sitting on the tables.
Talsy shoved the youth forward, and he approached the group. A few of its members glanced around, one an elderly reprobate with a disgusting yellow beard.
'Where is he?' she demanded.
Her hostage pointed at the group. 'On the floor.'
Releasing him, she pushed through the doctors to stare at what lay on the floor. At first she was not sure what it was, for its resemblance to a man was minimal. A pool of brown blood surrounded a twisted creature stretched between chains. Coils of gut lay snarled beside it, and the wet gleam of exposed organs poked from torn skin and bloody cavities. Her heart hammered with horror, and she longed for this to be some cruel joke. As if sensing her presence, he turned his head and opened his eyes.
'Chanter!' Talsy whispered hoarsely. Pain shot through her heart and her bile rose, then the room spun and went black.
Two doctors caught the girl and lowered her to the ground. Jashon turned and raised a brow at the student who had brought her in.
'She seemed to know him, sir,' he said. 'Demanded that I bring her here and threatened me with a sharp stick.'
Jashon smiled. 'A sharp stick, eh? How courageous our students are these days. Tie her up.' Turning back to his victim, he sighed. 'If you were Trueman I'd have the answer to my dilemma, for then you might feel something for this girl and co-operate for her sake, if not your own. But you're Mujar scum, unfeeling, uncaring, and no doubt would not lift a finger to help her.'
The Mujar glared at him.
'I thought not. So, let's continue.'
Chanter's soft groans dragged Talsy back to consciousness. She raised her head, and found her hands bound behind her back and her feet tied. The doctors stood around their victim, who was mercifully out of sight. The sounds of his agony cut through her, and she shouted, 'Stop it! Stop it! Leave him alone!'
A hatchet-faced man with hard brown eyes straightened and turned to her. Talsy hated him on sight.
'Ah, you're awake.' He sniggered. 'Our little bandit. I believe you know this yellow scum. Maybe we have you to thank for bringing him into the city. From a clan, are you?'
'No,' she denied. 'I am his clan.'
'A one-woman clan.' The doctor glanced around and laughed. 'You must be quite a woman, little girl.'
Talsy realised that she must be careful of what she said and leashed her emotions. At least Chanter had stopped groaning.
'Let him go,' she ordered.
'Or what?'
She had no answer for that, and asked, 'Why are you torturing him?'
The doctor shook his head in a condescending manner and leant on a table. 'Well, to begin with we merely wished to dissect him, but having done that, we decided to make him protect the city from the Black Riders.'
'He won't do it.'
The man with the revolting yellow beard giggled. 'Seems everyone knows that except Jashon.'
Jashon snarled, 'Shut up, Tranton. He can't take much more of this.'
'He can,' Talsy retorted. 'Obviously you don't understand Mujar, do you?'
Jashon thumped the table. 'Why is everyone such a damned expert on Mujar?'
'I've lived with him. I know how he thinks, and he'll never be forced into doing something.'
Jashon glared at her. 'And I suppose you know how to make him do it?'
She shrugged. 'Not exactly. Untie me and I'll tell you.'
At Jashon's nod, a doctor untied her. She stood up, nursing her wounded arm, and forced a smile. 'Now you can pay me ten silver coins.'
Jashon laughed, but Tranton eyed her in a calculating manner. He pulled a purse off Jashon's belt and held it out of reach when Jashon turned to him.
'The governor offered that bastard half the city's silver to protect us,' Tranton said. 'If you find a way to do it, he'll doubtless reward you.'
Jashon shot her a scowl. 'What if it's a trick? She looks like a beggar to me.'
Tranton shook his head. 'She knows his name.'
He tossed the bag to Talsy, who weighed it and checked the gleam of silver inside, then gave a curt nod.
'Now release him.'
Jashon said, 'Don't be ridiculous! I told you it was a trick!'
Tranton's eyes narrowed as he studied Talsy. 'Why?'
'If you know Mujar,' she replied, 'you know they can't be made to do anything they don't wish to. But if you heal him and set him free, he'll be grateful. When Mujar are grateful, they usually grant a Wish.'
Jashon muttered, 'You make him sound like a damned god.'
Tranton nodded. 'She's right. But he may not.'
'That's a risk you'll have to take.' She shrugged. 'Torturing him is a waste of time. You'll still be doing it when the Black Riders come, and then they'll slice you up.' Several doctors paled, and she continued, 'He'll survive, but you'll all be dead and your city ashes. You've got one chance, and I advise you to take it. You're lucky Mujar don't hate Truemen.'
'After what we did to him, I doubt he'll help us if we set him free, girl,' Tranton said. 'He's more likely to turn into a bird and fly away.'
'He'll help those who help him, but he won't offer help to get it. Until he owes you gratitude, you have no wish.'
'That's what he kept saying,' Jashon said. 'Stupid bastard. No wish! No bloody wish.'
Talsy glared at him. 'What had you done to deserve it?'
'Why the hell should I have to do anything when he's at my mercy!'
'You can't blackmail a Mujar.'
Tranton nodded, and Jashon turned away. 'Filthy Mujar trash.'
Angry words boiled onto Talsy's tongue, but she bit them back. She had to appear calm and unconcerned. Tranton pushed Jashon aside and ordered the doctors to remove the chains and bring buckets of water. Talsy turned away, unable to stomach the sight of Chanter's horrific injuries. Some students hurried out, while others removed the Mujar's chains.
They fiddled with him, probably stuffing his insides back into the gaping wounds, she thought bitterly. The youths returned and poured water over Chanter, and she turned at his first soft cry. He convulsed, his back arched, his hands curled in an agonised attitude, his face twisted and eyes screwed shut, lips pulled back from bloody teeth. The manifestation of Shissar filled the room with illusory mist and the rushing sound of a waterfall mingled with the crashing of breakers on a beach.
Jashon watched, stony-faced. 'Seems we should have done this before. It causes him more pain than torture.'
Talsy promised herself that Jashon would pay for the pain he had inflicted on Chanter. She longed to run to the Mujar's side and hold him tight to help him through his ordeal. Her willpower held out until the third dousing, when she could no longer bear his agony. She knelt beside him and wiped the dirt from his pain-racked features with the edge of her shirt, amazed by the miracle of his healing.
