LEANING BACK IN HIS CHAIR, LOTHAR WINCED. HISburned chest and abdomen hurt like blazes. The escaping girls either hadn’t had the power or the will to kill him, but they had come perilously close. He still had no idea who they were, or how they had become proficient in the craft. Had he known they were gifted, he would have kept them drugged until concluding their sale.
Glowering down at his raw chest, Lothar lamented his bad luck. He could only imagine the wondrous services those endowed creatures might have plied on their clients, had they somehow been convinced to follow Mary’s chosen profession! And with extraordinary selling prices, to match! But he would never know. Not only had the girls slipped through his fingers, but several guards had burned to death during the escape. The guards would have to be replaced, and that was always expensive. It wasn’t just anyone who was willing to work here.
Lothar reached across the desktop to unbutton his shirt, then pick up a bottle of balm the neighborhood healer had given him. He poured some into one palm, and reached beneath his bandages to rub more onto his badly scalded torso.
The girls’ bolts had nearly killed him. After lying unconscious for several hours, he had finally awakened, screaming in agony. The guards had called for a healer. Lothar would live, but would be scarred for life.
But ever true to his nature, his grief had quickly turned to greed. This was a new day; there was work to be done and fresh profits to be stolen. Despite his painful condition he intended to make the most of it.
Returning his attention to the matter at hand, he placed the lotion bottle back atop the desk, then gave the torturer another nod. The man in the black mask was the same fellow who had performed the public dunking and provided him with the debtors’ next-of-kin list several days before. As the torturer resumed his work, another scream filled the air, then wafted its way down the prison halls.
Lothar sat in a dank stone room. Four leering guards stood nearby. Near one wall a man sat behind another crude desk. His left arm lay tightly stretched across the desktop and his body was tied to his chair.
The hooded torturer sat across from him. Bolted down to the desktop, a manacle encircled the prisoner’s left wrist. A hinged iron device encased his left thumb. A broad, rusty turnkey protruded from the device.
Several of the debtor’s relatives sat in chairs on the other side of the room. Selected from the prized next-of-kin list, they had been “asked” to attend this session by Lothar’s guards, and told to bring all their money. They knew that Lothar could be vengeful. Not one dared refuse, lest something even more dire happen.
The point of this gathering was simple. Unless they paid off not only their relative’s debts but also their own, they would soon find themselves sitting in the torture chair. It was the morning following the girls’ escape, and Lothar could afford to take his time.
Realizing their plight, some of Lothar’s “guests” had tried to pay up even before the session had gotten started. For them, the mere sight of the muscular fellow in the black hood had been incentive enough. But because of his foul mood, Lothar had decided to give them a demonstration anyway. Because he had to suffer, so did everyone else. Smiling, he nodded at the torturer again.
Grasping the thumbscrew key, the hooded man gave it another quick turn. This time bones snapped. Blood ran from the device to drip lazily onto the table. Screaming madly, the prisoner jangled in his chair. But the jailor was not in a forgiving mood. He glared at the cowering relatives.
“Shall we continue?” he asked. “We have lots of time. After all, he has nine digits left. Nineteen, if one counts his toes.” Sitting back, Lothar lit a cigar, then sent the smoke toward the ceiling.
“Then again, we could stop,” he added, casually regarding the cigar’s glowing end. He looked over at the cowering relatives.
“If you agree to pay a bonus-say, an extra twenty percent above and beyond your current debts-you may all walk out of here right now,” he offered. “For those of you who do not have enough kisa on hand I will accept a signed promissory note, certifying that the adjusted sum is now the legally recognized amount. Interest adds up, after all! So do we have an arrangement? Or do we keep going?”
Tired and beaten, the weary relatives started shuffling toward Lothar’s desk. One by one, they paid all they had. Those who could not meet the ludicrous extortion demands signed detailed documents obligating them to make regular payments to Lothar or be immediately incarcerated. As the travesty continued, a smiling guard witnessed each signature.
Just then Lothar heard shouting from down the hall. It sounded like guards’ voices, mixed with others that he didn’t recognize. An explosion followed, shaking the prison. Dark smoke started filtering into the torture room, making it difficult to see.
Coughing, Lothar rose gingerly to his feet. He glared at the guards. “Don’t just stand there, you idiots!” he shouted. “See what’s going on!”
The guards drew their swords, and rushed into the hallway. Lothar followed them as far as the door, where his guards disappeared into the smoke.
Soon Lothar heard more shouting, followed by clashing sword blades. Silence reclaimed the prison. Holding his breath, Lothar waited. As fear gripped him, his cigar fell to the floor and his knees trembled noticeably.
Suddenly a dozen Minion warriors rushed into the room. Holding their dreggans high, they quickly ringed the walls. Some of their blades were bloodied. There was no sign of Lothar’s guards. The startled jailor glared at the warriors.
“How dare you!” he shouted. “You have no business here! Wait until the Conclave hears of this intrusion!”
Just then more people stepped from the smoky hallway. Lothar saw an old man in a gray robe, several more Minions, and a tall blond woman. Suddenly recognizing the First Wizard and the princess, he nearly choked.
Wigg calmly walked to stand before the fat jailor. Waving one hand, he caused the smoke to disappear. The First Wizard’s eyes bored directly into Lothar’s. Swallowing hard, the jailor tried to smile.
“Do you know who I am?” Wigg asked quietly.
“Uh, er…of course!” Lothar stammered. “The First Wizard himself! This is indeed an honor!”
“I cannot say that the feeling is mutual,” Wigg answered dryly.
He looked around the room. When he saw the torture victim his face went scarlet with rage. Pointing to the thumbscrew, Wigg called the craft. The device unhinged itself. Then the bolts holding the wrist manacle to the tabletop ripped loose, freeing the debtor. Wigg moved his fingers, causing the thumbscrew to fly across the room and into his palm. He held it before Lothar’s face. It was still dripping blood.
“And this?” he asked. “A tool of your trade, I presume?”
“Certainly not!” Lothar protested. “Time after time I have told my guards to never use such things, but they won’t listen! In fact, I had just entered the room! Now that we’re both here, together we can put a stop to it!”
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. “Well, 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.