Headmistress Yenael stood by the marble fireplace in her buffed leather bodysuit, tapping her palm with the handle of a scourge. Next to her hung Naeros Karanok in nothing but his skin. Chains suspended him above the floor by wrist and ankle. When Ythnel eyes followed the chains up, she saw them disappear into a cloudy, black void that spread out to cover where the ceiling should have been.
'Show me.'
Ythnel brought her eyes back down to see Headmistress Yenael holding the end of the scourge handle out to her. Only, it wasn't the headmistress's voice Ythnel had heard. It was Iuna's.
'I–I don't understand.'
'Yes, you do.' Headmistress Yenael's lips moved, but the voice was definitely that of the little girl Ythnel had been hired to care for. 'It is your turn, now, Ythnel. Take the scourge. Do not disappoint me.'
Ythnel didn't move. It was as if she were thirteen again, back in the dungeons below the manor in Bezantur. The same emotions, the same doubts, threatened to overwhelm her.
No, this was different, she told herself. This time pain and suffering was deserved. This time she wanted to do it.
Ythnel reached for the scourge, and it instantly appeared in her hand. She flexed her grip on the handle, feeling the comfort of its weight, the precision of its balance. She bounced it lightly, untangling the leather tongues. Moving to Naeros's side, Ythnel bent over so her lips brushed against his ear.
'Let's play.' She flicked her wrist, and the scourge shot out like lightning. Naeros screamed.
The constant ringing of a hand bell brought Ythnel's eyes open with a flutter. She was on her knees, her arms clutched to her chest, rocking back and forth from the waist up. She stopped, disoriented, and tried to get her bearings. Movement in the gloom ahead of her coalesced into the charging form of a large crocodile nearly twenty feet long. Its clawed fleet churned up the bog as it ran toward her. The fog in her mind instantly became crystal clarity. She rocked back on her heels, scooting on her hands and feet in a frantic scramble to get out of the path of the monstrosity that was closing on, her, its toothy maw snapping in anticipation. With a hiss, it made a lunge at her, but Ythnel rolled to her left, came to her feet, and sprinted back toward the mages.
'Wake up! Wake up!' she screamed as she ran. She could see they were already stirring, probably alerted by the alarms Kestus had set. As Ythnel reached them, more scaly, gray-green shapes came slithering out. of the murk. Their long, pointy snouts and ridged backs tapered into powerful tails that whipped side to side as they stalked closer.
'We have to get out of here,' Ythnel ordered. She helped the groggy mages stand and pushed them along ahead of her, away from the approaching crocodiles. 'I'll try to slow them down a little.' Focusing on the switch she still held, Ythnel called out to Loviatar for aid. 'Willing Whip, send us help.'
The air between Ythnel and the pursuing crocodiles began to shimmer. Motes of red light appeared and separated into three different groupings a few inches above the ground. The motes collected until each group was about three feet high; then they began to stretch out and merge. When all the motes in one group had finally merged into a single globe, they faded away to reveal a fiendish-looking rat the size of a dog. Their eyes glowed red and their black, bristly hair stood on end like quills.
Before Ythnel could utter a command, the three summoned rats launched themselves at the nearest crocodile. One rat was snatched in midair by the monster and crushed with a squeak in the reptile's powerful jaws. However, as the crocodile tried to swallow the rat, it disappeared in a cloud of red motes that winked out one by one.
The remaining two rats landed on the back of the crocodile, their claws and teeth seeking purchase amongst the scaly bumps. The crocodile tried to shake them loose, but they were firmly attached. The huge reptile roared in frustration, and his call was answered by two more crocodiles that appeared out of the mists to flank him. With deadly efficiency, the two crocs picked the rats off their fellow's back, flinging them up into the air and catching them in open mouths. Red motes floated away when their mouths snapped shut.
Ythnel was stunned. The rats' losing the battle was not astonishing. She hadn't expected them to actually defeat any of the crocodiles; they had been meant only to delay the giant reptiles long enough for Ythnel and the mages to escape. What surprised her, and sent a chill down her spine, was the intelligence the crocodiles had exhibited in dispatching the rats. Even now, she thought she could see the gleam of something unnatural in their eyes.
Now was not the time to ponder the source of that intelligence, however. Ythnel turned to follow the mages and ran right into their backs.
'What are you doing?' Ythnel looked up and saw three more of the giant crocodiles approaching. They were surrounded. 'Painbringer's touch! What do we do now?'
'Let me handle this.' Brother Crocodile stepped away from the group, and the crocodiles paused, their heads turning to follow. The tall, lanky mage shuddered and let out a low moan. Ythnel gasped as his nose and chin began to stretch out and widen. His hands and feet bent into wicked claws, while his arms and legs retracted until they were little more than thick stumps protruding from his torso. The mage's skin mottled, turning from smooth pink to bumpy green. His entire body swelled, the weight seeming to drive him to the ground. As he landed on all fours, a ridged tail grew from his rear, extending more than three feet long.
'A werecrocodile,' Kestus breathed. 'So the stories are true.'
'What do we do now?' Muctos asked, looking to Kestus.
Before he could answer, the crocodiles began hissing and coughing at each other. One charged Brother Crocodile, its mouth agape, but the former mage did not back down. He snapped his jaws inches from the challenger's snout. With a warbling chirp, the challenger backed away, its snout lifted in the air, signaling its surrender. Brother Crocodile turned to Ythnel and the mages and transformed back into a man.
'Do not be alarmed. These are my brothers.' He looked at each of them, searching. As if on cue, the crocodile that had challenged Brother Crocodile reared up on its hind legs. Its snout began to shorten, and the color of its scales shifted from dark green to pale pink, the rough, bumpy hide becoming smooth. Eyes that were on the side of the head swam to the middle. Arms and legs lengthened, while the tail shrank until it disappeared entirely. In seconds, a lanky, naked man with a thin face dominated by a long nose and chin stood where the scaly monster once was.
Kestus turned to Brother Crocodile. 'Who are you?' Kestus asked.
'My name is Kohtakah. I am the Royal Sorcerer to Lord Mulkammu, High Priest of Sebek.'
'What is going, to happen to us?' Ythnel asked.
'My brothers and I will escort you to our city. I promise you will not be harmed.'
'Why should we believe you?' Kestus sneered.
'I can understand how you feel. This must seem like I am betraying you, but I am not.'
'And how is this not a betrayal? You infiltrated us, and now you are handing us over to be taken as prisoners.'
'No, that is not how it is. I was sent to find help for my people. You will be honored as heroes. You must trust me. Everything will turn out fine.'
'What if we refuse?' Kestus asked.
Kohtakah sighed. 'I'm afraid you do not have that choice.'
CHAPTER NINE
Morning brought dull, gray skies and a chil wind that rattled gnarled branches and swirle(the fog covering the surface of the brackish ankle-high water that Ythnel and the maget trudged through. Steered by the werecroco diles, they had left behind the bogs and now traveled directly across an expanse of liquic filth. Ythnel's skin had stopped crawling at the oily touch of the water hours ago; extended exposure to the cold had numbed her from the calves down.
A small splash to her left reminded her that the two werecrocodiles in human form were not their only escort. Occasionally, she caught glimpses of two bumps, each about the size of an authokh, floating just above the waterline, but usually ripples were the only sign that their captors' brethren were keeping pace.
A wave of nausea rolled up from Ythnel's stomach, and her legs suddenly grew weak. She stumbled into the
