by Plague Jack
“I will not leave my patients!” said a physician, puffing up his chest and getting in Salus’s face.Salus only laughed. “Leave your patients? Doctor, you don’t have any patients left. They’re all out there now,” he said, pointing at the mob of sobbing sicklings gathered outside.
A wall of Harpy’s Point guardsmen arrived and took point around the front of the building. Members of the Church of Cambrian arrived in blue robes and led what patients they could down the street to their church. “Abandon the tower now and submit to arrest!” shouted a guardsman as the Wild Hunt barricaded the door from the inside. “Come out peacefully or we’ll burn the tower down.”
On the building’s fifth floor Salus held Evrill in front of him, his big strong hand gripping tightly around her throat. “Be a good duchess and don’t squirm, or I might drop you,” he whispered in her ear as he opened a window to address the wall of guards.
“Dear humans of Harpy’s Point!” he began. The crowd gasped in horror when they saw Evrill was Salus’s hostage. “I have here your dearly beloved duchess!” he said smiling. “Say hello, Evrill!”
“You’re a monster,” said Evrill. “Worse than any usurping prince or hellion.”
“So I’ve been told,” said Salus, smiling a smile that could make a virgin curl her toes. “If I, or any of my many snipers, see so much as someone walking towards this tower with a candle, I will personally cut your duchess here in two.” The crowd gasped. “But fear not! I’m no monster.” He gave Evrill a little shake. “I won’t hurt Evrill so long as you leave us be.”
“Release the Duchess!” shouted a guardsman in reply.
“No. I’m afraid I cannot,” said Salus. “’I’m sorry I had to meet you all under such uncomfortable circumstances,” Salus shouted to the crowd. “But I have business here that I must attend to.”
“What kind of business?” replied the guard. “Let’s make a deal.”
“No deals. Not yet!” said Salus. “I promise that I’ll explain myself in due time, and if you all behave yourselves and don’t try and burn down my tower or cross my bridge, I promise I will not hurt Evrill so long as she is in my care.”
“Do we have your word on that?” asked the guard.
“You have my word,” said Salus, wiping away a tear that rolled down Evrill’s cheek before pulling her back inside.
“You hope to take Harpy’s Point from me?” asked Evrill as she was led down the hallway. “It won’t work. These are my people; they won’t turn on me so easily.”
“We shall see,” said Salus as he threw Evrill into her office and slammed the door shut. “Mordigan!” he said, grabbing the gilnoid’s attention. “Go find Doctor Hemlin for me immediately and bring her here.”
“O’ course,” said Mordigan. A few moments later he returned up the stairs with the faeling doctor in tow.
“It’s time to begin on Shrike,” said Salus. “We need to get him talking immediately. Before the guards decide they would rather have dead elfkin than a live duchess.”
“Certainly,” said Hemlin with a smile that showed her pointy teeth. Tiny hands removed a crossbow pistol from her bag, and she wound it and loaded it with a dart filled with a swirling amber liquid. “Open his cell door, if you would.”
Salus undid the lock to Shrike’s cell and gently nudged the door open with his foot. It swung inwards to reveal an empty room. Shrike was nowhere to be seen. “Mordigan, if you would?” Salus asked.
The gilnoid entered the cell and floorboards creaked under his massive weight. “I don’t see him,” said Mordigan. There was a bang as the open door swung out and slammed into Mordigan with such force that he tripped over his legs and fell to the floor. In an instant Shrike was on top of him.
Shrike punched Mordigan in the side of his jaw again and again until his knuckles were bloody and several of the gilnoid’s molars had fallen out. Hemlin’s dart stuck Shrike in his upper shoulder and Shrike’s world went black as he fell unconscious.
Wood and stone spun before Shrike when he awoke. Then there was something white, pink, and blurry in front of his face. “Hello, Mr. O’Connor,” said the pink blur.
“Salus?” asked Shrike, his vision clearing. He was in a room lit by a single torch behind Salus. His wrists and ankles were bound to a chair with rope.
“Yes,” said the voice. “Has your vision cleared?”
Hardly. “What did you inject me with?”
“Oh, just a little something to get you calm and sedated. Of course, not so sedated you can’t feel pain.” He stuck a needle into Shrike’s wrist. The dwarf twitched. “Good,” said Salus. “You can still feel.” He grabbed the dark red hair atop Shrike’s head and twisted it to one side. In the corner was Dr. Hemlin, sitting in a chair with a pencil and empty notebook—the same fake notebook Shrike had used to bluff his way through Pendragon’s trial. “Dr. Hemlin will be doing the recording. We need to get all those nasty little secrets out of your head, Mr. O’Connor. Now, you can do the right thing and you can tell us everything you’ve kept hidden from us. Or we can torture it out of you. I don’t want to hurt you, Mr. O’Connor, but I fail to see another option.”
“Tell you my secrets?” asked Shrike. “What do you want to know?”
Salus laughed. “That’s the spirit, Mr. O’Connor! The first and most important thing we need is dirt on Evrill. We need something to discredit her.”
She might be a bitch, but she’s the kindest bitch I’ve known. If I tell them too little they’ll know I’m lying. Too much and Evrill suffers. “She’s had dealings with the Black Feathers,” said Shrike. “She trades ingredients they use to make crystal in exchange for medical supplies.”
“A good start,” said Salus. “More.”
“Beneath Harpy’s Point is a vein of volcanite steel. She was legally required to report it to the Queen but hasn’t. It’s worth a fortune.”
“And?” asked Salus, desperate for more.
“She’s not exactly known to be a rebel. You’re asking for dirt on Amernia’s mildest noble. There isn’t much to tell. That’s all I know.”
A backhanded slap stung Shrike’s face. “Liar,” hissed Salus. “Hemlin! Tools!” he snapped, and Dr. Hemlin brought up a cloth. Inside it were wrapped hooks, knives, pliers, and needles. There were also hammers, packets of salt, and fire powders that would heat up a blade and cook it red hot. “I trust you’ll tell me, Hemlin, if I’m going too far? We need to keep him alive.”
“Of course!” said Hemlin. “I always take care of my patients.”
“Good,” said Salus. “Let us begin.”
Hours later the door to Evrill’s office opened and Shrike was thrown onto the floor, his fingers wrapped in bloody bandages and a cut on his brow hastily sewn together. The Duchess sat behind her desk reading a book. For a moment she thought Shrike dead before he pushed himself off the floor with a painful moan, and the door slammed shut behind him.
“Now’s the time you chose to catch up on your reading?” asked Shrike from the floor, his hands shaking.
Evrill threw down her book and stood up in alarm. “It helps calm my nerves. Shrike, what have they done to you?”
“The specifics?” asked Shrike as he stood up. “They started by smashing my fingernails with a hammer”—he held up his hand, revealing black and cracked nails—“and when I still wouldn’t talk they heated needles and shoved them into my fingertips.”
“That’s… unspeakable. Salus will pay for this… You don’t seem to be in a great deal of pain.”
“A great deal? No. Pain… Yes. They gave me drugs so I wouldn’t lose consciousness. I think I’m a bit numb.”
“What did they want to know?” asked Evrill.
“They wanted me to spill my guts. They wanted everything they could get on the Queen bitch,” Shrike lied. “But I held out. Didn’t expect to, honestly. I’ve never been tortured before. I don’t think I like it.”
“Just give it to them. You owe her nothing, and she can take care of herself.”<
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“No,” said Shrike, shaking his head. “I am worried about what will happen to her if I talk. Is there something you could give me? I’m afraid the painkiller is going to wear off.”
“Let me see what I have in my desk,” said Evrill.
They came for Shrike again the next morning, and he put up the best fight he could. Hardly a fight at all, thought Shrike. His hands were too mangled to punch so he had only his legs to defend himself. Shrike kicked at his captors to no avail.
“I’m going to need you to start talking,” said Salus, stirring a bowl of hot coals.
“Start? I’ve been talking. I’ve already given you plenty on Stolk and Quintero,” said Shrike his chest rising and falling rapidly.
“Nothing we didn’t already know,” said Salus, slamming his fists down upon Shrike’s hands. “Tell me everything you know about Evrill!”
Shrike screamed in agony. “I told you already! There’s nothing to tell! She’s practically a saint, and if you kill her I’m sure they’ll hail her as one.”
The handsome elf bent his knee and, to Shrike’s surprise, removed one of the dwarf’s boots. The elf’s blue eyes met Shrike’s with a near lustful gaze as he stripped off the sock. “Mr. O’Connor, I don’t think that’s the truth. I will find out in time, of course,” he said as he stood up and poured hot coals into Shrike’s boot. He held its leather carefully, smiling as he walked forward with it slowly.
“I told you! I don’t know anything!” said Shrike. Salus began to slip the boot back onto Shrike’s foot. Shrike gritted his teeth, I won’t scream, I won’t give Salus the satisfaction. I won’t. The coals weren’t so bad at first, but they soon got worse, a dull burn turning into a searing heat as Salus looked on expectantly. I won’t scream. Searing heat turned into agonizing flames. Shrike screamed. Salus smiled.
When they threw him on the floor of Evrill’s office he did not get up. Instead Evrill knelt next to him as he lay face down. “What have they done to you now, poor dear?” she asked. Shrike murmured something, quietly. Too quietly for Evrill to hear. She knelt lower.
“Something for the burns… my feet.”
The Duchess stripped off the dwarf’s shoes, revealing the peeling, pus-oozing, red and yellow things that had once been feet. She held a hand to her mouth in shock. “One moment. I can get you something,” she said as she went to her desk and looked through her cabinets. She returned with a vial filled with a blue gel she began to rub on his feet. “This salamander extract will regenerate your skin and numb the pain. The burns have passed through the dermis and your nerves have been damaged. You will never feel your feet again.” Shrike was silent. “What did you tell them about the Queen?”
I can’t keep this up, thought Shrike. Have to tell her. “I have a confession. They’re… they’re not asking about the Queen,” said Shrike, pushing himself up. “He wants to know more about you. He doesn’t know…” Shrike gritted his teeth as Evrill wrapped his feet in spider silk bandages. “He doesn’t know your role in the Green War. At least I don’t think he does. If he does, he needs proof.”
“Then tell him,” said Evrill simply.
“I can’t,” said Shrike. “The people don’t know. Evrill, if they find out… they will turn on you, and the Hunt will take control of your city. Humans will be butchered in the streets. More people will die.”
“I don’t believe that will happen,” said Evrill. “I’ve spent my life building up a reputation here, a good one. My family has roots in this place, stretching back two hundred years. The people won’t turn on me.”
“Don’t underestimate the fury of an angry mob,” said Shrike. “You are appreciated because you aren’t the Queen, or Stolk. You aren’t one of the elfkin and never will be. No matter how hard you try.”
“You are under no obligation to protect me,” said Evrill. “I’ve made my mistakes, Shrike. If Harpy’s Point demands I be judged, then so be it.”
Evrill’s eyes had heavy bags under them from exhaustion, and strands of hair floated loose from her bun. The cracks are showing, thought Shrike. “Evrill, you are one of the most gifted women in Amernia, maybe even Archipelago. Given chemicals, and time, you can make miracles happen. But gods be damned, woman, when it comes to understanding people you are one of the most idiotic specimens I’ve ever met.”
“I am not a dullard, Shrike,” said Evrill, tired. “I know I’m probably not going to make it through this. Horrible things could and are likely going to happen. I know, Shrike. This is my fault as much as anyone else’s. I know that I’ve made poor choices. I know. I set an example, Shrike, in the hopes that I will inspire others to follow my path. Is it going to be worth it? I cannot say, but I’m ready to make the ultimate sacrifice for it, if that’s what’s needed.”
Shrike shook his head. “No. You’re a good woman. Amernia has too few of those. The country needs you if it’s going to survive.”
“Let me confess when they come for you again,” said Evrill. “It’ll spare you from more torture.”
“No,” said Shrike. “No… it has to come from me. Or else Salus will think it’s a trick.” And pray that he accepts Evrill’s war crimes and doesn’t push for the real secret… stashed under this tower. She has no idea I know what she’s got under this sanctuary. I had best keep it that way.
“Weeks ago we were at each other’s throats,” said Evrill with a soft smile. “Funny how things change.”
“Yes…” said Shrike. “Funny.”
When they came for Shrike again he hardly had the strength to slap their hands away. “You need to go easier on him,” said Evrill. “He’s no use to you dead.”
“Oh, he’ll live,” said Salus as Shrike was carried down the hallway. “After all, he’s in the best of care!”
The fun room, as Salus had begun calling it, had been rearranged. Its new main attraction was a wheel lined with tiny metal spikes. Hot coals burned beneath it, which Salus nurtured with a billow. “Hemlin, if you would please get his feet,” said Salus, tying Shrike’s arms to the wheel.
“Certainly,” said Dr. Hemlin as she tied down Shrike’s legs. The spikes dug into his back, but they didn’t hurt until the wheel began to spin and his own weight pushed him down onto the spikes, which dug into the gaps between his ribs. When he swung downwards, the fiery coals burnt off his stomach and chest hairs. Spikes, then fire, spikes, then fire. Shrike spun in a dizzying pinwheel of agonized torment. “Stop!” shouted Shrike. “I’ll talk… I’ll talk.”
“All right,” said Salus as Shrike hung upside down above the flames. “Let’s talk.”
I will never forgive myself for this. I will be haunted every day I wake. “During the Green War…” Shrike took a breath.
“Go on,” urged Salus, shooting a look at Hemlin, who was eagerly getting ready to scribble in her notebook. “During the Green War, Evrill worked as a weapons designer. She… she engineered Nixus.”
Salus let out a long hard laugh. “Did she really? Well, shit. Obvious now that you mention it. Everyone knows the Queen fogged the north, but no one knew who made the fog, although there were speculations….”
“She designed it but she didn’t deploy it—she didn’t give the order. That was my fault, Salus. It’s my fault the north was fogged, not Evrill’s.”
“Doesn’t matter, does it?” said Salus, undoing Shrike’s bonds. “You’ve given me gold, Mr. O’Connor. But I’m afraid we still need more information.”
“Why?” gasped Shrike. “You have everything you need. Let me go. Let me go, please.”
“No. You aren’t going anywhere. For good behavior I’ll give you the rest of the day off to rest your wounds. We will resume tomorrow.”
“Evrill, the duchess, physician, inventor, and…” Salus paused as he stood in the doorway to Evrill’s office. “Chemist.”
“So Shrike’s told you everything, then?” said Evrill. “Then let him go.”
“Everything… but not enough. Mordigan, bring him in,” ordered Salus. The
gilnoid carried an unconscious Shrike and placed him gently upon the floor. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
The Duchess treated Shrike while he was passed out from the pain. His back was riddled with red spike marks, while more burns covered his belly and chest. Luckily neither were as badly burnt as his feet, which were still tightly wrapped. Evrill applied the burn ointment and used antiseptic on his back. “You poor man,” she said, while she tended to his wounds once again. “I’ve made a horrible mistake in trying to reason with the Hunt.”Shrike’s eyes flipped open. “Evrill,” he said, before spitting blood onto the floor. “We need to talk.”
“You told him that I engineered Nixus,” said Evrill. “I told you it’s okay. I can handle it.”
“No. That’s not what I’m worried about,” said Shrike. “There was a nurse who joined your staff a few years ago. You knew her as Joy.”
“Yes,” said Evrill, wiping her hands with a rag. “What of her?”
“She was a spy for Jester House,” said Shrike. “She worked for me as one of my agents. It was her job to keep an eye on you and report back on your activities.”
“I can’t imagine what she would have reported. Not much of note happens at Harpy’s Point.”
“She was very good at her job. She had a secret office in the basement, but you didn’t know anything about it. She’s probably still down there; I split her skull before we left for Capricorn and started this mess.” Shrike’s eyes met Evrill’s, piercing and harsh. “She found your armory.”
“What armory?” asked Evrill. “You know I’ve retired from engineering.”
“Yes, you have,” said Shrike. “But don’t lie to me, Evrill. If Joy knew about your armory, so do I. You can’t keep secrets from me, Evrill—I’m the master of secrets, remember?”
The Duchess’s face went white and her lips tight. “You can’t tell him,” said Evrill. “You can’t tell Salus, you can’t. If you do, there will a war worse than the Green War, worse than even the Rose Rebellion. More will die in droves. You must do everything you can to keep silent.”
