Tossing the thumbscrew aside, Wigg pursed his lips. “I see,” he said. “And what about slave trafficking, eh? I suppose you have never pursued that dubious practice, either?”
Lothar held up his palms. “On my life, no!” he shouted. “I am a sworn officer of the court! I would never do such a thing!”
Glowering, Wigg stepped closer. Knowing that it would hurt, he poked an index finger into Lothar’s chest. The jailor winced. “You’re no longer an officer ofour court,” Wigg breathed.
Another warrior entered the room, walked up to Shailiha, and clicked his heels.
“Your report,” the princess said.
“This place is a madhouse!” the warrior answered. “The prisoners are being held in deplorable conditions. Many are close to death. The surviving guards have been locked away. Torture rooms abound. But there is some good news.” The warrior grinned straight at Lothar, then back at hisJin’Saiou.
“We found that fat bastard’s ledgers,” he announced proudly. “We also have the safe in which he keeps his fortune. After some Minion inducement, it opened easily. It holds more high-denomination kisa than we could count in a fortnight.”
Wigg glared at Lothar. “Those funds are supposed to be repaid to whomever they are rightfully owed!” he growled. “You have been stealing from the citizenry, haven’t you? Then you hoard it here, where you can best protect it!”
“No!” Lothar insisted. “I was going to distribute those monies on the new moon, just as I always do!”
Wigg poked Lothar’s chest again. “Don’t insult me, you fool,” he said. “It’s doing nothing for my mood.”
Shailiha turned to the warrior. “Bring her in,” she said simply. The Minion promptly disappeared down the hall.
Soon another person entered. As she walked into the room, Lothar’s eyes widened with fear. It was one of the girls who had nearly killed him!
Mallory pointed at the jailor. “That’s him, all right,” she said. “He was going to sell us into slavery.” Looking at his bandages, she smiled. “You got off easy,” she said. “Had we been stronger, you’d be dead.”
Shailiha turned to the Minion officer. “Take that torturer away and lock him up with the guards,” she ordered. “See to it that all the prisoners are released and escorted to the palace. Feed them, then have their injuries looked at by the acolytes and Minion healers. We will hear their stories later.”
The officer clicked his heels, then ordered the other warriors to escort the wounded man, his stunned relatives, and the torturer from the room. With terrified eyes, Lothar looked beseechingly at the First Wizard.
“What about me?” he pleaded.
“We’ll get to you in a moment,” Wigg answered. “But first, Mallory has some unfinished business.” Looking over at Mallory, he nodded.
Mallory stepped closer to Lothar. It was clear that she enjoyed seeing him tremble. “The guard who watched over us,” she said. “The one with the scar down one cheek…What is his name?”
“Why do you want to know?” Lothar asked.
Mallory stepped nearer.“The name,” she demanded.
“Ivan,” Lothar answered.
Mallory turned to look at Shailiha. A cool, demanding presence had overtaken the young acolyte.
The princess hesitated for a moment. She barely knew this girl. Should she trust in Martha’s and Duncan’s teachings? If she gave Mallory permission to act, what would the young woman do? Shailiha knew that there was nothing deadlier than an adept who controlled the craft, but could not control his or her emotions. The princess finally nodded.
“Thank you,” Mallory said softly. She looked at the Minion officer. “If he still lives, find Ivan and bring him here,” she ordered.
Unsure whether he should accept orders from a Fledgling, the warrior looked to hisJin’Saiou. Shailiha nodded. The warrior quickly marched down the hall.
Anxious moments passed. Lothar was about to protest his innocence again but apparently thought the better of it. Then Ivan and the Minion officer entered the room. Pressing his sword tip against Ivan’s back, the officer prodded him toward the center of the floor. When Ivan saw Mallory, he smiled.
“Hello, my pretty,” he said arrogantly. “Come for some more, have ya?”
Mallory walked closer. “No,” she answered quietly. “Fall to your knees.”
“I don’t think so.”
Taking a step closer, Mallory raised one arm. Suddenly the guard felt a crushing weight atop his shoulders, forcing him to the floor. Even so, he looked up at Mallory with defiant eyes. She took a step back.
Still unsure about what Mallory might do, Wigg looked worriedly at Shailiha. The princess held her breath.
Mallory raised her arms again. Calling the craft, she closed her eyes.
But as everyone watched in silence, nothing seemed to happen. Perhaps Mallory is still too weak for whatever she had planned, Shailiha guessed. She gave Wigg a questioning look, but all the First Wizard could do was offer one in return.
Opening her eyes, Mallory looked Ivan in the face. “Stand up,” she said quietly.
The guard stood. “What’s the matter, sweetie?” he asked. “Couldn’t use the craft, after all?”
“Unlace your trousers,” Mallory said.
A confused look crossed Ivan’s face. “What for?” he demanded.
Mallory raised her arm again. “Just do it,” she growled, “or I’ll kill you where you stand!”
The guard untied his britches.
“Pull them down,” Mallory said.
Looking around the room, Ivan hesitated.
“Do it!”Mallory shouted.
Finally he complied. Everyone in the room started howling. Ivan screamed hysterically and nearly fainted away. His testicles had vanished.
Trying to control her laughter, the princess again looked at Wigg. Smiling, the First Wizard shook his head and rubbed his brow.
“You bitch!” Ivan shouted hysterically. “What have you done?”
“That should be obvious,” Mallory answered. “Be thankful that I left your other part intact for…convenience’s sake. Although from what I see, it wouldn’t be much of a loss.”
Finally Ivan had withstood all he could. His dark eyes rolling back into his head, he fainted onto the floor. Lothar immediately fell to his knees.
“Mercy, First Wizard!” he screamed. “From this day forward you can trust me to do anything you ask!”
His grim gaze returning, Wigg stepped closer. “I wouldn’t trust you to take your next breath,” he answered.
Lothar started sobbing. “What will happen to me?” he asked.
“With the princess’s indulgence, I’m going to imprison you here,” Wigg answered. “We will study your ledgers. I’m sure their tally will match what we find in your safe. The funds will be redistributed among the debtors’ payees. Aside from a rotating group of Minion warriors who will feed you, this shop of horrors is officially closed.”
Wailing uncontrollably, Lothar fell to the floor.
Wigg watched Mallory walk over to Shailiha. The Fledgling bowed respectfully.
“Thank you for your trust,” Mallory said. “At first I wanted to kill him. Then I came on a better idea. But if Your Highness believes Ivan’s punishment too cruel, it can be reversed.”
The princess smiled. “That won’t be needed,” she answered.
“By the way,” Wigg asked, “how did you manage that? Master Duncan never taught you such a spell, I’d wager!”
A sheepish look overtook Mallory’s face. “Master Faegan taught me,” she admitted. “When the idea came to me, I revisited him late last night in his laboratory. Something told me I might still find him there. After meeting him the first time, I realized that he seemed like the type who might agree with my idea. When I explained it to him, he positively cackled!” Then Mallory bit her lower lip. “Was it wrong of me?” she asked.
Snorting a laugh down her nose, Shailiha placed one hand atop Mallory’s shoulder. “We
ll, it wouldn’t do to make a habit of it,” she said.
“It’s time to go,” Wigg said. “Our work here is done.”
As they turned toward the door, Lothar staggered to his knees. “When will I be released?” he demanded.
Stopping in midstride, Wigg turned around. “Never,” he answered quietly.
As they walked down the hallway, the fat jailor’s screaming followed them for a time, then faded away.
CHAPTER XXIII
It is not only for ourselves that we fight the Vagaries, but also for those who left behind so many treasures-such as the Tome, the Paragon, and the Scroll of the Vigors. We fight to preserve the legacy of the Ones Who Came Before.
- WIGG, FIRST WIZARD OF THE CONCLAVE OF THE VIGORS
SMILING TO HIMSELF, EINAR WATCHED HIS SERVANTSgo about their work. From where he and the others waited they could see only glimpses of the fighting, but they knew it would be intense. Serena’s lead consul had no doubt about the outcome.
Peering out from another camouflaged cone formed by his envelopers, Einar looked to the sky. It was midday in Parthalon. Dark clouds were forming, and it would rain soon. He hoped to take his latest victory before the storm broke.
Some of his consuls and Valrenkians had been left behind to oversee the Ghetto while a contingent of envelopers and swamp shrews protected them there. By the time this new prize had been secured, those left behind would be well along in their part of the plan.
Although the distance between the Ghetto of the Shunned and this new place was short, Einar had taken great care that his forces not be seen. The Parthalon population was most concentrated in the north. Though Einar knew that the populace could give him no real trouble, it was in his best interests to remain unnoticed-at least until this second goal had been secured. He knew it would not fall as easily as the Ghetto. But taking this place was paramount to the Heretics’ plan, so it had to be done. Smiling again, he returned his gaze to their newest prize. They would capture the Recluse.
Built with slave labor more than three centuries past, the Recluse sat on a high island in the middle of a lake. The large water body surrounding it rippled slightly in the freshening wind. The castle was reached by a long bridge, which was the only way in or out.
The wooden drawbridge meeting the lake bridge was lowered, and flanked on either side by high barbicans. Just beyond, the outer courtyard areas would be filled with desperately fighting Minion warriors. Beyond the first two gate towers were another two towers. Another portcullis stood between them, banning entrance to the inner ward. These two gate towers seemed to be the only opening in the walls surrounding the castle. They also protected the fore-buildings and keep, the Recluse’s innermost sanctuary. Unlike the dark and foreboding towers and outer ward areas, the architecture at the Recluse’s heart looked more refined.
Even Einar stared in awe. The Recluse had to be at least half again the size of the royal palace in Tammerland. And that didn’t include the huge secret areas belowground-the reason this place was so valuable to him. Einar couldn’t imagine how many different rooms and hallways there might be. From each corner turret, a flag carrying theJin’Sai ’s heraldry waved proudly.
The majestic structure had been partly destroyed when theJin’Sai defeated the Coven. Einar was forced to admit that the Minions had done a superb job of restoring the structure to its original glory. It was also said that this was where theJin’Sai had married Celeste, the First Wizard’s only child.
Thank you for rebuilding the Recluse, Einar thought. We will put it to good use.
Just then he saw an enveloper approaching. Fluttering its sides, it landed gently before the cone. Pushing two envelopers aside, Einar walked from the cone’s darkness and into the midday light.
The consul thought for a moment. “Is it safe to enter the Recluse?” he asked. The enveloper answered with a dip of its head.
“Good,” Einar said. “It is time to inspect our newest prize.”
Einar ordered the enveloper cone dismantled and watched as the litters were again loaded. Soon he, Reznik, and the others were winging their way toward the smoking Recluse. Soaring over the castle walls, even Einar was surprised by the immense carnage. As the litters settled in the outer ward, their passengers jumped to the ground.
Although the envelopers and shrews had devoured most of their victims, Minion bodies still littered the castle. Blood ran deep across the stone floors. The occasional dead shrew and enveloper could also be seen, but not in enough numbers to affect Einar’s plans. Some interior areas were afire.
Still rooting out survivors, angry shrews roamed the Recluse freely. Despite using the craft, Einar could barely see his envelopers. But he knew they would also be looking for stragglers.
Whenever a surviving warrior was found he was devoured on the spot. Minion screams occasionally filtered down the Recluse hallways to fade away in the spacious outer ward. Here and there a dead, white-winged Gallipolai could be seen among the other victims. Einar knew that more than three thousand warriors had guarded the Recluse. Most were dead. Any survivors would soon join them in the Afterlife.
Einar and Reznik suddenly heard some unusual grunting sounds then smelled an overpowering stench. Before they departed the Citadel, Serena had warned them about the shrews’ strange habits. But until seeing it for themselves, they hadn’t fully appreciated their grotesqueness.
Many satiated shrews had already started coughing up their victims’ bones and clothing. Given the shrews’ huge numbers, the regurgitated piles-not to mention those left by the envelopers-were forming all too quickly. Soon the Recluse would be littered with them. Unless they were cleared away, disease would follow. Einar didn’t hesitate. Summoning his remaining Valrenkians and consuls, he pointed to the growing piles.
“Use the craft to vanish those leavings!” he ordered. “Unload the craft tools and extinguish the fires! We need this place intact!”
As they set about their work, a consul approached. He bowed. His name was Actinius. A heavyset man in his mid-forties, he was Einar’s consular second-in-command.
“My lord,” he said. “By your order, a group of shrews are holding some Minion survivors at bay.”
“Good,” Einar answered. “The warriors will prove useful. Do you know where they are?”
The consul smiled. “One need only to follow the blood trail.”
“Show us,” Einar ordered.
Actinius immediately started leading them across the bloody outer ward, then toward the fore-buildings and keep. Walking up the majestic steps, they entered the grand foyer. Despite having been wrecked by the fighting, the room’s original beauty was apparent.
The foyer was three stories high. Overhead, skylights showed dark, passing clouds. More than one dozen variegated columns stretched their way to the ceiling, and the floor was a black-and-white checkerboard affair. Tables, sofas, and chairs-now damaged and smeared with blood-lay scattered about. Wrecked paintings and ripped tapestries hung drunkenly on the walls.
A curved staircase stood against the room’s far side. Its upper landing split off into two opposite directions, each leading to the various second-floor rooms. Minion dead also lay here, as did the odd shrew and enveloper. Walking across the floor, the three mystics did their best to avoid the blood.
As Actinius led them upstairs and down a hallway, Reznik suddenly understood why Einar had ordered that some Minions be spared. The Recluse was vast; finding the chambers they needed would certainly prove problematic. Once they were located, his collaborations with Einar could start in earnest. If they could finish their research in time, the world would be theirs to command.
As they approached the hallway’s end they heard snarling shrews. The consul stopped before an open doorway. Leading the others into the room, Einar looked around.
The once-elegant bedroom was a wreck. Like the Recluse’s foyer, this chamber was spacious and pleasant. A large four-poster bed stood against one wall, its sheets and bedcover ripped to shreds. Mos
t of the furniture was overturned. Einar noticed that the windows’ stained glass had been destroyed, allowing the midday breeze to harass the patterned curtains. He turned to look at the captured warriors.
Two snarling shrews held four Minions at bay. Severely wounded, three were too weak to fight. Unable to rise, they sat on the floor, trying to stanch their wounds.
The exhausted fourth warrior gallantly protected his brothers. Waving his dreggan, he was doing his best to keep the shrews at bay. Einar noticed that the shrews had wisely trapped the Minions in one corner, preventing them from taking flight through the smashed windows.
Einar stepped closer. Looking at the warriors’ armor insignia, he was delighted to learn that each fighter held considerable rank. He was pleased, because they would probably have the information that he needed.
Einar boldly walked to stand between the warriors and the shrews. Without taking his gaze from the warriors, Einar ordered the shrews to back off. The snarling beasts retreated toward the door. The warrior protecting the others glared hatefully at Reznik, then Einar.
“What is your name?” Einar asked. His voice was controlled, almost courteous.
“I am Derrick,” the warrior answered. He raised his sword a bit higher. “Who areyou?” he demanded. He was so exhausted he could barely speak. “Why have you attacked us?”
“My identity is of no consequence to you,” Einar answered. “But your rank as a Minion officer matters greatly. The Recluse is vast-therefore I require a guide. Although it’s beautiful, most of this place means nothing to us. Our only reason for being here is to gain access to Failee’s research chambers.”
Smiling, Einar placed his hands into opposite sleeves of his robe. “You are going to show me those secret doorways,” he added quietly.
Laughing, Derrick lifted his sword point higher. “Never!” he shouted. “Because you command the shrews, it is clear that you serve the Vagaries. Serena is no doubt your queen. We would gladly die before helping you!”
Einar shook his head. “You don’t understand,” he said. “I was once one of the First Wizard’s most powerful consuls. My gifts have only grown since then. Allow me to show how vulnerable you are.”
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