It had taken some outright groveling to convince Ariano to spare Kariana. Fortunately, she had shown some mettle, even if she was a fool. The elder Meites had bought his pleadings that she could be trained into something more, and had relented. Sadrik was considerably less convinced of his position than he had let on, but what other choice did he have? Kariana had to survive, and he would have to help her out of self-interest.
He chuckled to himself, remembering their earlier conversation.
“You mentioned friends who fix problems,” she had said. He had smiled and agreed to serve as her go-between. No need for her to know the truth. She couldn’t be trusted with it.
Satisfied that he did indeed cut quite a sinister figure, his need and belief in the mirror faded, and the mirror followed, dulling, becoming wooden, imperfections rising out of the flat surface until it was once again a heavy door. Sadrik smiled and slammed his palm against the wood. It burst from its hinges and imploded inward in a rain of shards.
Sadrik paused at the threshold, admiring the room beyond. The taste, the cost, the sheer arrogance on display was remarkable. The entire outer wall was a single piece of curved glass, the curtains drawn back to reveal all of Nihlos dreaming under orange clouds, silent, majestic, impossible to ignore. Numerous white throw rugs were placed as walkways over the marble tiled floor. A score or more candles reflected from mirrors and the glass wall, filling the room with a warm glow. Lilac-scented smoke wafted gently from censors along the counters. In the center, sunken into the floor, was a huge bath more along the lines of a swimming pool. Steam rose from its surface, only to be whisked away by some unseen wind, leaving the vista of Nihlos unobscured.
Maralena Prosin, naked in her bath, gasped in shock and scrambled to cover herself.
Sadrik took his time with his entrance. Swagger was important, after all. It was warm in here. Scorching. Something is on fire. Wisps of flame rose from the throw rugs where his boots touched, leaving a trail of charred footprints. Smoke curled from the debris of the door as he passed, and the pristine white towels hanging from rods above the bath began to smolder. “Good evening, Maralena. Are you surprised to see me?”
Maralena recovered quickly from her shock. She lowered her arms, giving him a full view of her age-worn body. “I hadn’t thought it would be so soon.”
Sadrik raised an eyebrow and made a tisk-tisk sound. “Should I have made an appointment?”
Maralena hauled herself to her feet and stood naked, dripping and defiant. “Have your kind ever concerned yourselves with the desires of we lesser beings?”
Sadrik waved a hand, and a towel rose from its rack and floated across the room to her. “No need to rob you of your dignity.”
Maralena stepped carefully from the bath, took the towel and wrapped it around herself. “I thank you for that. So tell me, is this negotiable? I have a lot to offer.”
“I’m afraid not.”
Maralena grimaced but nodded. “Not fire, please. Have some mercy.”
Sadrik swept his arm at her in fury, and the curtains burst into flame. “Mercy?” he shouted. “You don’t even know the meaning of the word!”
Maralena turned her head, avoiding his gaze as she squeezed water from her hair. “You people toss it about often enough. I don’t have the luxury.”
Sadrik steepled his fingers under his nose for a moment, giving her what he hoped was a merciless scowl while he considered. “What will you offer me, then? In exchange?”
“Truth.”
“Ah, now that is something of value.” He waited, letting her stew a second longer. “Give me the truth, and I’ll not use fire.” He peered into one of the many mirrors and stroked at his beard as he waited for whatever lie she chose to tell him. “But have a care. I know more than you think.”
Maralena stared at the steam rising from the bath, seemingly resigned to her fate, and said dully, “It was Narelki who started it all. Will you be visiting her as well? She’s the one who sent the men to kill Lara.”
Sadrik shook his head, unamused. “You know full well Narelki is a special case. You’re not helping yourself here, meddling in things that don’t concern you.”
“I’ve concerns aplenty. I just have no power to address them.”
Sadrik stared at her, filled with loathing. Pathetic mewling bitch! “That is what makes you a lesser creature.”
Maralena stiffened as if she had it in her mind to strike at Sadrik, then seemed to think the better of it. That, too. If you had the stomach to fight me, this would go easier on you, coward.
“It was her fault Marissa died,” she snarled. “I struck back at her child.” She cast Sadrik a proud, hate-filled glare. “There was a time when you people would have called revenge fair play.”
Sadrik laughed loudly at this. “Oh, you misunderstand why I am here. It was fair enough.” He shook his head, pasting on a look of mock-sadness. “No, it’s all of the rest that brought you to this place. It was very sloppy, that business with the letters. I would have expected better of you.”
Maralena took a deep breath, then let it out with a slight shudder. “Yes. I did too.”
“Is there anything else? Any last words, perhaps, you would have me deliver?”
“I regret nothing.”
She still counts it as a victory. Perhaps it was worth it to her. “Very well. Prepare yourself.” Sadrik raised his arms dramatically and waved them about in slow, meaningless gestures. Audiences are always more impressed by big actions.
Maralena’s eyes widened, but she maintained her composure. “Not fire.”
Sadrik flashed her the wicked smile again and shivered. Cold. I’ve never been so cold!
The dozen or so smoldering spots in the room snuffed out like pinched wicks. The candle flames wavered in their sconces as bone-numbing chill poured into the room like water filling a sinking boat. The temperature dropped fifty degrees in seconds as Maralena gaped, uncomprehending, and the clear vista window grew opaque with frost.
Sadrik waved a hand at her, a casual gesture, and Maralena staggered and fell back into the bath. Another fifty degrees fell away in an instant and another. Maralena’s body dipped beneath the surface, and the water grew thick, less translucent. Her eyes sprung wide in horror as she realized Sadrik’s intent, but it was too late.
Sadrik’s teeth began to chatter, and his breath jetted from his nostrils in visible clouds as he stepped onto the sheet of ice that now covered the bath. Ridiculous! I am immune to the cold! It was a sudden realization, one he had really always known but had never actually considered until now. Of course, the cold could not touch him. How could it be otherwise? That wouldn’t make any sense at all.
Warmth swept through him, and his teeth calmed. Sadrik looked down at Maralena with a smile as she pushed at the wall of ice to no avail. He watched with detached amusement as she struggled against the inevitable, her lips moving silently, bubbles streaming from her nose, her eyes wide with terror. Begging for mercy, likely. Sadrik cupped a hand to his ear for a moment, then shrugged and smiled back. What’s that? Sorry! Can’t hear what you’re saying, you rotten old cunt!
He pointed his finger at the ice and gestured. Trenches formed on the surface as if they were chiseled there. He did it slowly, not wanting to make a mistake. Writing ‘Tasinalta sends her regards’ backward took some concentration, and it would hardly do to get some of the letters wrong. That would make him look quite foolish, which could have severe consequences.
At last, her breath burst from her lips in a great bubble, and her body convulsed in death throes. Sadrik gave it a few more minutes, just to be certain, then stepped down to the floor again. He took a deep breath, realizing that it was, in fact, a lovely temperature here. The great window slowly began to clear, and the sheet of ice in the bath began to melt, slowly at first, then accelerating. Within a few moments, Maralena’s corpse bobbed to the surface, her eyes still bulging.
Sadrik spat into the water. “Not fire,” he said with a nod.
Thank you for reading Dead God’s Due, book one in The Sins of the Fathers.
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