The Traitor Queen

Cery gave her a disbelieving look. “If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t be stuck here. Down here I’m nothing but a problem for Lilia.”

Lilia frowned. “You’re not a problem. Not a big one, anyway.” Anyi put a hand on her shoulder.

He scowled. “The only mark I can make now is to be a nagging worry at the back of Skellin’s mind. People might say I’m dead, but he won’t completely believe it because he hasn’t seen a corpse. He has to consider I may be alive, and up to something.”

He’ll be moving in on my territory cautiously, and questioning everyone who might know where I am. Cery felt his heart spasm painfully with guilt. My people will want to believe I’m dead, because if I’m alive and not fighting Skellin it’ll seem as though I’ve abandoned them. If they find out I was hiding beneath the Guild, they’ll think I’ve been living in luxury with my magician friends, not this.

If only there was some gain to be had, other than mere survival, from being here under the Guild.

We’re isolated from the rest of the city. Magicians are not far away, and one in particular – Lilia – is able to help us. Few people would dare come here, knowing that. Cery frowned. Would Skellin dare?

Perhaps if he had a good reason to.

If he did come here, he’d be very wary. He’d send scouts to make sure it was safe first. Then there would have to be a good reason for him to enter the passages personally rather than send others. No matter where or how he learned about the existence of these tunnels, and how to get to them, he’d have to suspect the information was meant to fall into his hands, and was part of a trap.

After all, I would.

But if there was something here that Skellin wanted badly enough, perhaps he would take that risk. Cery just had to think of bait powerful enough to lure him into a trap. This time it would have to be something much more tempting than the books on magic.

Chapter 9 Friends and Enemies

Lorkin woke in a rush. He blinked up at the ceiling and puzzled at the unfamiliar bare stone, then a heartbeat later he remembered where he was and why.

And that he wasn’t alone in the cell.

He turned to see the young woman lying on the floor near the cell’s gate. Her skin and the rags that were all that was left of her slave garb were stained with blood. She was staring up at the Ashaki interrogator, who stood in the gate’s opening.

As Lorkin got slowly to his feet the Ashaki bent to grab her arm and yanked her upright. She gave a hoarse cry and sagged as if her limbs wouldn’t support her, but the man laughed.

“That wouldn’t fool a halfwit,” he said. He ran his free hand down her arm to her shoulders, then through her hair, then looked at Lorkin and grinned.

“Nice bit of Healing. Considering how much was broken, it must have worn you out.”

Lorkin met the man’s eyes and shrugged. “Hardly.”

The interrogator chuckled. “We’ll see.” He looked at the slave girl. “Walk or be dragged.”

She gave up on pretending to be wounded. Bracing her feet, she stood properly, then looked down at herself in amazement before her wonder at being whole evaporated as the Ashaki pulled her toward the gate.

“Come with me, Kyralian,” the Ashaki said. “We have more to discuss.”

Lorkin considered refusing to leave the cell, but he couldn’t see how it would gain him anything. It would force the Ashaki to use magic to drag him out, but very little magic and nothing that couldn’t be replaced by taking strength from a slave. He doubted the Ashaki would hesitate to torture the girl here instead. Saying nothing, he followed the interrogator out of the cell. The man’s assistant, as always, fell into step behind him.

The slave girl walked with slumped shoulders. Lorkin could not stop images and sounds from the day before running through his memory. The Ashaki’s torturing had been slow and brutal, calculated to cause as much pain and damage as possible without killing her.

It had taken all Lorkin’s determination to stay silent. He could not help trying to think of other ways to stop what was happening, even if temporarily, but none would work for long. These ideas kept taunting him, though. Lying to the Ashaki. Telling him things about the Traitors that were true but irrelevant. Even offering his own life in exchange for the woman’s.

Eventually he managed an unpleasant detachment from it all. He gave up on any notion that he could do anything to help the woman or himself. Later he shuddered at what he had done, and worried that accepting that he couldn’t help the slave might eventually shift into giving up on protecting the Traitors.

He tried to keep Tyvara in his thoughts to bolster his determination, but that only led to him thinking about what she must have suffered at the hands of Ashaki while pretending to be a slave. Beatings. Being used as a pleasure slave. Lorkin’s dislike of slavery had deepened into hatred.

The previous day he had been sure the Ashaki would eventually kill the slave woman. He certainly hadn’t expected the man to toss her into the cell with him. As time passed his detachment had faded. He’d found it harder and harder to bear listening to the woman whimpering and gasping in pain.

Did they simply hope to wear me down with guilt? Or were they only hoping I’d weaken myself by Healing her? Or see if I’d kill her myself to end her pain.

Using the extra power Tyvara had given him to Heal the slave would not cost him a lot, he’d decided. It would never be enough to protect him for long, if the interrogator decided to torture or kill him. Only afterwards did it occur to him that Healing her meant the Ashaki would be able to torture her all over again.

She had thanked him, which only made him feel worse. He lay awake for a long time, trying to convince himself that the interrogator had achieved his aim. The purpose in using her had been to force him to use up his power. Lorkin had shown that he would not be persuaded by her torture to speak. She was no longer needed.

Now it seemed like a foolish delusion.

The Ashaki led them to the same room. It had been cleaned. The slave girl was shoved into a corner where she threw herself into a submissive, defensive crouch.

As before, Lorkin was directed to a stool. The interrogator leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. The assistant perched on another stool.

“So, have you anything to tell me?” the Ashaki asked. “Anything relating to the Traitors, that is.”

“Nothing you don’t already know.”

“Are you sure about that? Why don’t you tell me what you think I know about the Traitors?”

“And see if our knowledge matches?” Lorkin sighed. “As if I’d fall for that trick. When are you going to accept that I’m not going to tell you anything?”

The interrogator shrugged. “It’s not up to me. It’s up to the king. I’m merely his...” he pursed his lips in thought, “his researcher. Only I extract information from people, not dusty old books and scrolls, or by exploring distant places, or spying on foreign lands.”

“Torture must be the least reliable kind of research.”

“It takes a certain skill.” The Ashaki uncrossed his arms and pushed away from the wall. “One that I don’t get to practise often, so I’m happy to have the opportunity now. Unless, of course, you distract me with something more interesting.”

Lorkin made himself meet and hold the man’s gaze and keep his voice level, though his stomach churned as he spoke.

“Has it occurred to you that the means you’re using to convince me to talk might make me even more determined to stay silent?”

The Ashaki’s smile was unconcerned. “Does it really? Well, then. Let’s put that theory to the test.”

As he turned to look at the slave she whimpered. Lorkin felt his resolve weaken. But if I tell them about the Traitors, thousands could end up like this woman. And if she is a Traitor, she knows this and would