Down the hallway, lost in time, Fallion heard a woman’s scream echo, followed by the snarl of a strengi-saat, the sound of it grunting, and more screams. The strengi-saat was filling the woman with its eggs, he realized.
Who are all of these people? Fallion wondered. What have they done to deserve such pain?
He had no answer. Like him, he suspected, they had done nothing.
Waggit had taught Fallion about the lives of evil people. He knew that there had been lords in the past who tortured others for their own amusement.
What had Waggit told him? Oh, yes. Such people eventually went mad. “They ride into power on a steed of fear and violence, doling out favors to those who support them. But as their inhumanity grows, their supporters fade away. Fearful of losing support, they begin to kill the very lords who brought them to power, and the foundations of their empire crumbles. In time, in fear and madness they dwindle away, and at last they tend to die by their own hands, or the hands of their people.”
Waggit had cited examples of men and women so cruel that even to tell of it was harrowing.
Is that how Shadoath will end? Fallion wondered.
At the time, the lesson had seemed… boring, a mere recitation from the pages of dusty old books.
Now, Fallion was learning of such things firsthand.
Hunger gnawed at his belly. Thirst became a nagging companion.
It was under these circumstances that the boys received their first visitor. Fallion had expected Shadoath herself to show up, but instead he woke in his cell, his vision blurred, and peered up to see Deever Blythe peering through the bars, a torch in his hand, grinning inanely.
“ ’Ow they treatin’ you boys?” Blythe asked.
Jaz was unconscious. Fallion peered at him, saw him pale and vulnerable. For the first time, Fallion began to worry that his little brother would die.
“Last couple o’ days been nice, ’ave they?” Blythe asked.
Fallion did not want to let Deever see him beaten. Choking, he said, “I’m well, and you?” But his voice betrayed his outrage.
He’s the one that told on us, Fallion realized. He’s the one that betrayed me.
“Not like back ’ome, I’d imagine?” Deever asked. “Not like those hoitytoity dinner parties, what with the lords in their silk tights, struttin’ about and dancin’ with their plump ladies. Not a bit like that, is it?”
Fallion had never been to a ball. He’d seen one or two, and it sounded to him as if Blythe had only some garish approximation of what it was like at a ball.
Outside the cell, down a hallway, an echoing groan came loudly.
Fallion said, as if he were a lord at a dinner party, “The music does leave something to be desired.”
Blythe peered at him, his eyes glowing with delight. Fallion wondered what message Blythe had come to bear, and realized at last that he had brought none. He’d come only to gloat.
“Mr. Blythe,” Fallion begged. “Can you get…food and water? At least for my brother?”
“What?” Deever Blythe asked. “You tired of chewin’ on your tongue already?”
His teeth were flashing broadly in a smile, half hidden by his scraggly beard. There would be no food or water.
Blythe held his torch loosely.
Fire. So close, so easy to tame. Fallion could feel it calling to him, could feel the rage rising in his chest, the flames ready to leap out.
“Oh, look at that,” Blythe said. “There’s a nice ’ungry rat down in the corner, come to visit ya. Better watch out!”
Fallion hung his head. It wasn’t hard to do. He barely had the energy to lift it anymore.
He saw the rat trundling toward him as it edged along the wall. There were rat bites on his ankle and feet, little red patches already swollen. The wall was slimy and dark between his legs, wet with urine.
The rat nosed around Fallion’s feet, peering up at him, black eyes reflecting the torchlight.
“Go ahead, little feller,” Blythe said, “ ’ave another bite.”
Fallion kicked at the rat, and it backed away an inch. It knew that Fallion couldn’t reach him.
Blythe laughed and lurched down the hall.
33
Man learns in his youth that he must submit to indignities, for nature itself heaps them upon us.
Rhianna rode through the green hills by daylight, passing cottages and fields all left fallow, drifting in and out of consciousness. She did not know whether the men who had found her running on the beach were her saviors or captors. She felt tired beyond caring.
She discovered the truth when they reached the palace, and the men took her in and dumped her at the feet of Shadoath.
“Your Highness,” one of the Bright Ones said. “We found her on beach patrol, just north of Port Syndyllian.”
Shadoath studied the young woman, a pretty thing. Not many like her could be found on the island anymore.
Rhianna peered up. Shadoath was easily the most beautiful woman that she’d ever seen. The palace was astonishing, its high windows all draped in white silks, with heart-oak panels upon the walls, and beams all gilt with silver. The room was resplendent, and Shadoath was its crown jewel.
Only one thing marred this picture of perfect beauty. On each side of Shadoath’s tall throne, a strengi-saat was chained like a lion. The beasts slept at the moment, or at least rested lazily, but Rhianna felt certain that they were aware of her.
Rhianna gaped, unsure what to say. Finally she asked, “Where’s Fallion and Jaz? What did you do with them?”
Shadoath walked around to Rhianna, studied her as she circled. “You should be worried about yourself.”
“Please, let me see them,” Rhianna asked. “I’ll do anything.”
“You’re in no position to barter,” Shadoath said. “Do you know what we do with little ones like you?”
Rhianna was afraid to ask.
Shadoath frowned down at her. “We give you to the strengi-saats.”
Rhianna swayed on her feet, nearly fainting, the terror written plainly on her face.
“Are the boys all right?” she begged.
Shadoath made no answer.
Tears filled Rhianna’s eyes. She was trembling. She dropped to one knee, bowed her head, and said, “Please, spare them. I’ll do anything for you. Anything. People don’t think that I can do much, because I’m still just a girl. But I killed a man once, and I could do it again.”
Such a bold declaration was not to be taken lightly.
Shadoath had few servants that she could trust. If this girl feared her enough, she might become a proper tool.
“Give me your hands,” Shadoath asked.
Fearfully, Rhianna held out her hands. Shadoath grasped her wrists and studied Rhianna’s palms.
Yes, I can feel the bloodstains there, Shadoath realized.
“You love these boys?” Shadoath asked.
Rhianna bit her lip and nodded.
