Savage Messiah

CHAPTER XLIII

"Now then," Faegan said. "let's begin, shall we?"

The wizard had chosen this chamber of the Redoubt because it had gone unused for centuries. It was dark and unfurnished, save for the simple table and five chairs he had requested. Moisture seeped freely from the walls. Mildew had crept in long ago, making the place smell musty and abandoned. A single wall torch burned quietly.

Faegan, Abbey, and Adrian sat on one side of the rectangular table. Next to Faegan was Lionel the Little-the wizard's herbmaster and the trusted keeper of the herb cubiculum in Shadowood. Since arriving at the height of their trials with Wulfgar, Lionel had stayed on at the palace.

The Valrenkian captive sat across from them. Bound to his chair by a wizard's warp, he glared at Faegan with venomous eyes.

The prisoner was of average build. He appeared to be about forty-five Seasons of New Life. His blond hair was thinning at the top, and he still wore his bloody butcher's smock. A purple bruise had risen on his jaw from Ox's blow; his broken ankle had been set by the wizard. He had remained unconscious all of the way to this room.

After placing him in the chair and securing him with the warp, Faegan had carefully examined the Valrenkian's blood signature. Sure enough, it revealed him to be a partial adept. The abbreviated signature had possessed curved lines, indicating that the man's gifts had been inherited from his mother rather than his father. His examination complete, Faegan had then employed the craft to rouse the man.

Summoning all of the saliva he could, the Valrenkian spat at them, then sneered arrogantly.

"What do you want with me?" he growled. "I demand to know why I have been brought here!" Pausing for a moment, he looked around the bleak, unforgiving room.

"Wherever this might be," he added nastily.

"Where you are is not important," Faegan said. "We require answers from you. We can either do this the simple way-with me asking the questions and you answering them honestly-or we can proceed the hard way, through my use of the craft. First of all, you are a Valrenkian, are you not?"

The man just spat at them again.

"What is the name of the assassin who was hired to kill the inhabitants of the royal palace?" the wizard pressed. The prisoner again remained silent.

Abbey placed her mouth near the wizard's ear. "This is getting us nowhere," she whispered. "Time is precious."

Faegan nodded. Narrowing his eyes, he called the craft. Almost at once the Valrenkian's eyes widened with surprise.

"What are you doing to me?" he shouted.

"Enhancing your willingness to comply," Faegan answered calmly.

The man's head suddenly snapped back and his eyes opened wide. Abbey realized that Faegan had just successfully entered the Valrenkian's mind. The captive's rebellious attitude might remain, but now he would be forced to answer their questions-and truthfully.

"Let's try again, shall we?" Faegan asked. "Are you a member of the rogue Valrenkian community?"

"Yes."

"What is your name?"

"Uther, of the House of Kronsteen."

"Tell me, Uther of the House of Kronsteen, what is the name of the assassin hired to kill those living at the royal palace?"

"The only assassin I know of is called Satine. She buys her wares from Reznik."

"So this assassin you speak of is a woman?"

"Yes."

Thinking for a moment, Faegan sat back in his chair. "Who is Reznik?" he asked.

"He is a most accomplished Valrenkian. He leads us. Satine buys the tools of her trade from him."

"Where is Satine now?" Faegan asked.

"I don't know."

"You have seen her?" Abbey asked.

"Yes. She visits roughly every three moons, to purchase fresh goods from Reznik."

"Please describe her," Abbey asked.

"Satine wears black leather clothing and a gray cloak. Her dark hair is long and braided. One of her arms is tattooed with a serpent, the other with a sword. She carries four daggers and a short bow. It is said that she has additional weapons at her disposal, but I don't know what those might be."

Faegan lifted his eyebrows. "How is it that you know about her tattoos?"

"Last year, one hot afternoon during the Season of the Sun, she rode into Valrenkium with her cloak removed. Her shirt was sleeveless."

"What goods does she purchase from Reznik?" Adrian asked, leaning forward and resting her forearms on the table.

"I do not know," Uther answered. "That is kept strictly between Reznik and her."

"Who is her next target?" Faegan asked.

"I do not know."

"Tell me about the Valrenkians," Faegan said. "Is it true that you practice the Vagaries?"

"Yes."

"The Minion warriors said that human body parts were in evidence in Valrenkium, and that people were being systematically tortured and killed," the wizard said. "Is this true?"

Uther managed a slight smile. "Yes," he answered. "We sometimes kidnap people for our needs. Some of us also unearth corpses from graves. We sell our endowed wares to the highest bidder. Those of us who practice this subdiscipline are also known as Corporeals."

Angrily, Faegan thought of Geldon lying dead on the table, and the manner in which he had been killed. "Does Reznik use dead bodies in his work?" he asked.

"Yes," Uther said. "He sometimes employs the bodies of suicides. He pays more for those-especially if the corpse's blood was endowed. A grave robber secures them for him."

Sighing deeply, Faegan nodded. It was becoming clear that his analysis of Geldon's death had been correct.

Faegan was quickly developing a better understanding of the assassin. She was a cold, ruthless professional who would stop at nothing to complete her job. Clearly, she was rarely equaled for cunning and inventiveness, and despite what they had learned, finding her would remain next to impossible. He wondered who her benefactor was.

Looking at the captive, Lionel the Little slowly removed his spectacles and wiped his face with one hand. After repositioning his spectacles, he cleared his throat.

"Are there women and children in Valrenkium, are there?" he asked harshly, in his peculiar way of speaking.

"Yes."

"Are all of the adults willing practitioners of your dark arts?" Lionel asked.

"Of course," Uther answered. "Why else would they be there?"

"What about the children?"

"Until they are old enough to learn our secrets, the children are innocents. They begin apprenticing at the age of seventeen."

"Tell us more about the people you abduct," Lionel said. "What do you do with them, what do you do?"

"We use their body parts to produce our wares. We do not always kill the women that we take. Sometimes we hold the more attractive ones for…other purposes." Uther smiled again.

"During the Sorceresses' War, it was rumored that the occasional gnome woman was also taken," he added. "It is said that they were particularly prized. Some of them even came to like it."

Surprising everyone, Lionel tore from his chair and launched himself at the Valrenkian. With a crash, they both went down to the floor. Screaming, Lionel began pummeling Uther's face.

Knowing how difficult it would be for Faegan to stop the gnome while also keeping his hold on Uther's mind, Adrian lifted one hand. An azure bolt shot from her fingers, striking Lionel squarely in the back. Using the bolt to take hold of him, she smoothly levitated him back toward the table.

His face beet red, the squirming gnome was returned to his seat. With another bolt, Adrian carefully righted Uther's chair. The Valrenkian's nose was bleeding, and two of his teeth were on the floor. She had to admit that she wasn't sorry.

Faegan looked harshly at the gnome. "Must I place a warp about you, as well?" he asked angrily.

Folding his arms over his chest, Lionel glowered at Uther. "I'm sorry, Master, yes, I am," he said. "But you know better than most about the injustices that have been inflicted upon us gnomes over the centuries, yes, you do."

Unafraid, Lionel looked into the wizard's eyes. "When we are done here, all I ask is a few moments alone with this animal."

As much as Faegan would have liked to, he couldn't permit such a thing. He knew that Lionel understood that, too. He placed one hand on Lionel's shoulder.

"Tell me," he asked softly. "Do you wish to become like him?"

Lionel remained silent. Faegan resumed his questioning of Uther.

"Other than the bluffs that surround Valrenkium, what defenses do you have there?" he asked.

"Endowed archers stand atop the walls," Uther answered. "The only way in or out is through a maze of sandstone tunnels. The entrance must first be revealed by one of us. To safely navigate the tunnels, you must know the way. Inside, one wrong turn and you're dead."

"What else?"

"Creatures," Uther said softly.

"What kind of creatures?" Abbey asked.

Uther shook his head. "You may force my mind all you wish to, but I cannot answer that. Only Reznik knows. He alone controls them. Some say that these beasts were first conjured by the Coven. Legend says that the creatures are immortal."

Deciding to end the interrogation for the time being, Faegan raised one arm. The Valrenkian's eyes snapped wide open once more.

"You will remember nothing of what happened here," Faegan said. "In addition, you will not remember being taken from your home. Should you attempt to use any of your gifts of the craft, you will find yourself powerless to do so. Do you understand?"

Uther stared blankly out at nothing. "I understand," he whispered.

The wizard snapped his fingers. Uther slipped back into unconsciousness, his head slumping forward onto his chest. His breathing became deep and rhythmic. Blood dripped lazily from his wounded mouth.

Faegan glanced over at his friends. They looked stunned.

"I didn't know you could do that," Abbey said.

Faegan gave her a short smile. "You still have much to learn," he said. "This kind of thing is relatively simple to accomplish when the subject is a partial adept. But trying to make it work on a full-fledged wizard or sorceress is another thing altogether."

"What shall we do?" Adrian asked. "While we sit here, innocent people are being tortured. Even worse, the Vagaries are being practiced."

Faegan laced his fingers together.

"There is only one thing to do," he said quietly. Pausing for a moment, he glanced at their captive.

"I am taking the Minions back to Valrenkium," he said. His expression hardened.

"And this time," he added softly, "their mission will be quite different."