The Sword Of Angels

13

In the catacombs of Asher’s prison, time had lost its meaning. The dreary lamplight and the never-ending din of distant, tear-choked voices twisted day into night and back again. Somewhere near Mirage’s cell, a leak dripped water onto the stone floor. Through her bars, she saw spiders building webs in the corner of the murky corridor, the hallway terminating into unseen darkness. The occasional footfalls of a prison guard echoed through the complex, quickening Mirage, sometimes heralding the arrival of her tormentor. At any time of day or night, a whip would crack across bare flesh. Blood-curdling shrieks awoke her when she slept, never deeply, guardedly watching the corridor for shadows. Twice she had awakened to Asher’s ghostly face grinning through the bars of her cell, ready to ply her with questions.

There were so many questions.

Mirage sat in the corner of her cell, her head down, her eyes sagging with exhaustion. Thoughts rattled around her skull, scrambled from hunger and lack of sleep. Bedraggled strands of hair fell across her soiled forehead. Her chin nodded upward at a distant sound, then down again against her chest. Her filthy clothes clung to her half-frozen body. Days in the cold prison had turned her skin an unhealthy blue. Her fingernails ached. The toes of her bare feet curled inward for warmth. Water had been supplied in drips, and now her mouth swelled like cotton. A painful knot tied itself in her empty stomach. Hearing the familiar noise of footfalls, her eyes fluttered open to stare outside her silent bars. Waiting had been the worst part of her torment. Not even her interrogations with Asher were as bad. With only fears to fill the endless hours, she imagined every sort of depraved torture, every small pain the gaoler might inflict on her. In front of her, the jeering wooden stool sat near the entrance to her cell, its seat still impaled with Asher’s knife. The edge of the blade stood at attention, waiting for its master. So far, Asher had not used the knife, taunting her with it instead, twirling it between his digits like a baton during their long interrogations. In the days that she had been his captive, Asher had come to her three times. Mirage remembered each episode vividly, but she could not recall how long she had been in the prison. Without a window to tell night from day, she was like a blind woman, completely lost to the passage of time. The lamp outside her barren cell shed the only light on her wretched home.

Asher had been remarkably patient with her. Over and over, he asked the same uncomplicated questions, making her repeat herself again and again. Though he had promised to harm her, he had so far declined to even touch her, using only his voice to wear her down. She had told him things she had never intended to, like how Baron Glass loved her and how much time they had spent together. Intrigued, Asher continued to press her on this, compelling stories out of her, circling her with his arguments until she surrendered shreds of dignity. Now, Asher knew almost everything, but she had yet to tell him the most important thing. No matter the time she spent with Asher, no matter the torture, she would not reveal her knowledge of Grimhold or the magic she possessed. She had promised herself that. She was proud of her resolve.

‘You can burn in all the hells of eternity,’ she sputtered. ‘That I’ll never tell you.’

Her voice rasped against her ears. Just using her voice made her throat ache. But hearing it strengthened her, too, and she knew that if only she could speak, she could keep herself sane. To keep her promise, she needed her wits with her.

‘Kirsil?’ she whispered. ‘Are you here?’

The comforting flutter of her Akari entered her mind. Kirsil, the young spirit who had given her beauty again, dithered nervously just within her grasp. Mirage seized the sense of her, clinging to her hopefully. Kirsil had been precious little use to her, providing solace but no good ideas. They were both trapped, and the Akari seemed to know it. Mirage half expected the spirit to abandon her.

No, said Kirsil, appalled at the thought. Never. We are together. We will always be together.

Mirage closed her eyes, but somehow managed to keep from crying. ‘Thank you, Kirsil. Thank you for everything you’ve given me.’

The Akari hesitated, reading her feelings as well as her thoughts. Do you wish Sarlvarian was here?

The question surprised Mirage. It was true that she had thought of Sarlvarian — her old Akari — many times since her capture. With his help, she might be able to escape Asher, burning her way past him and his many underlings with his magic fire. But she had traded Sarlvarian for Kirsil, and for beauty.

‘No,’ said Mirage, shaking her head. She kept her voice low so that no one else could hear. ‘I’ve never been sorry you are my Akari, Kirsil.’

Then you must hold on, said the spirit. You must stay strong, just as strong as you have been.

Mirage leaned her head back against the unyielding wall. ‘I don’t know how much more I can last. My body hurts, Kirsil.’

You must protect Grimhold, Mirage.

‘I’m trying.’

I will help you. Take strength from me.

The sentiment nearly broke Mirage’s resolve. Drawing her legs closer to her body, she wrapped her hands around them for warmth, rubbing her knees. She studied the flame dancing on the wall outside her cell, willing it to warm her the way she could when Sarlvarian had been with her. It was not so long ago that she had power over flame. With only a thought, she could have made that lamplight explode.

‘I’m so cold,’ she said, then broke into a chorus of coughs. Without water to calm it, she coughed until the pain of it seared her lungs, then stopped abruptly. More footfalls sounded in the corridor, this time coming toward her. ‘Oh, no. .’

Mirage could barely bring herself to stand, but stand she did, determined to face Asher on her feet. Her captor had always been impressed by her strength, maybe even vexed by it. Mirage rose unsteadily, ignoring the icy floor as she squared her shoulders. Soon the sounds grew louder, then the shadows crept around the corner. Two men — both of whom she recognized — appeared outside her cell. She did not know their names, but the pair always accompanied Asher when he came to question her. This time, though, the inquisitor had not come. Puzzled, Mirage glared at the guards.

‘Good, you’re up,’ grunted one of the men. Dressed in his dark uniform, he was the larger of the muscular pair, with eyes like burning coals that undressed Mirage when he stared. He fit the key into the stout lock and turned the tumbler, then pulled the iron door open with a screech. ‘Come with us,’ he commanded.

Mirage fought to control her terror. Short of breath, she gasped, ‘Where?’

‘Asher wants to see you,’ said the other, slightly smaller man. In his hands dangled a chain with manacles on both ends. Stepping into the cell, he gestured for Mirage to turn around. ‘Hands behind your back.’

With no way to resist, Mirage did as he asked, wondering if this — finally — meant the punishment Asher had promised her. The cold iron encircled her wrists, snapping shut. The man grabbed her hair and pushed her roughly toward the door. Her feet scraped across the jagged floor, stubbing her toe as she fell against the bigger man. Shutting the bars loudly behind her, the guard grabbed hold of her arm and dragged her down the corridor.

It was a long, wordless way through the hall. Mirage had only made the trip once before, when she been brought to her hole-like home. The dim light stabbed at her eyes, illuminating the rows of identical cells, most of them empty, others with huddled prisoners like herself. Mirage looked away, unable to face their vacant stares. At the end of the hall stood a spiral staircase. Vaguely, she remembered descending it, but to her numbed brain it seemed so long ago. She held on to Kirsil, frantically reaching for the Akari through her terror. The spirit coursed through her mind, calming her like a mother’s touch.

‘Up,’ said her gaoler, lifting her by the armpit toward the first step. Nearly stumbling, Mirage leaned against his big frame as she struggled up the stairs. The guard dragged her impatiently along, bouncing her up each step, ignoring her cries of pain. The dizzying staircase spiraled endlessly upward, assailing her eyes with torchlight. Days in darkness had turned her vision to mush. She squinted at the growing light, her eyes watering, until at last she spilled out into another stone corridor, falling to her knees.

‘Get up,’ commanded the bigger man. Hovering over her, Mirage expected him to strike her, but he did not. Instead he hooked his hand beneath her arm and lifted her effortlessly to her feet. She looked around the giant hall, studying the high ceiling and bare, grey walls. She remembered this place, too, when she had first been taken into the prison. To her great relief, she saw windows at the far end of the hall, and daylight streaming inside. The sight of sunlight made her gasp. Where was Asher? Was she being freed?

‘Where are you taking me?’ she asked. ‘Please tell me.’

But the guards ignored her question. Flanking her, they each grabbed an arm and guided her down the hall toward the sunlit windows. Mirage flailed against their grasp.

‘I can walk!’ she hissed, pulling free of their arms. ‘I don’t want your filthy hands on me!’

The big guard with the dark eyes pointed down the hall. ‘Then walk. Or I will carry you.’

Mirage did as he commanded, shuffling across the floor, her pride wounded but intact. The men strode next to her, side by side, silently urging her onward. Mirage saw the windows growing ahead of her, looming large in a part of the prison she had not seen before, a place not nearly as dank as the rest of Asher’s home. As they got closer, she rounded a corner to see a pair of open doors. Hardly believing it, she saw grass beyond the threshold. The scent of flowers — of freedom — filled her lungs. She paused, swallowing the fresh air. Looking at her captors in disbelief, they motioned toward the open doors.

‘Move,’ said one of them, taking her arm again and guiding her outside.

Her bare feet touched the carpet of grass. Soft and warm, it tickled her. Mirage looked around, spying the trees that lined the alcove. A ribbon of cobblestones had been preciously laid into the neatly trimmed grass, wandering around a stand of fruit trees. The sun beat down on the gardens, hurting Mirage’s eyes, but she could not bring herself to look away. She squinted through painful tears, wondering where the guards had taken her. They guided her onto the stone path, careful not to let her fall, then stopped abruptly. The smaller one fumbled with her manacles and an unseen key, unlocking her binds.

‘Go on,’ he said, pulling off her chains.

Mirage rubbed her wrists. ‘Where?’

‘Follow the path,’said her gaoler.

Mirage looked at him in confusion. Were they freeing her? Listening, she heard gentle noises just beyond the trees, but could see nothing behind their blossom-laden limbs.

‘Go,’ said the larger man impatiently. ‘We’ll wait here.’

Not understanding, Mirage took a cautious step along the cobblestones, trying to focus her stinging eyes. To her surprise, the guards did not follow. In the shadow of the tall prison, she could not believe such a quiet place existed, and as she went deeper into the trees she saw a clearing set among the grasses, with a table and two chairs — one occupied by Asher. The table had been set with fine porcelain and silverware. An urn of tea steamed in the breeze. Asher sat with his back to a servant, a man at rapt attention dressed smartly in a kitchen uniform. Bread and fruit and dainty sandwiches dotted the table, and Mirage, who had not seen food in days, gaped at it. She froze on the pretty pathway, watching incredulously as Asher tried to smile with his malformed mouth.

‘Sit,’ said the man. It was more like a request than an order. Asher gestured to the empty chair opposite him. He had removed his bloodstained apron, donning a clean, silky shirt and combing back his wild hair. His swollen face twisted in delight. To Mirage, he looked like a child sitting at the table, playing tea party. When she did not come closer, he began to pout. ‘Will you not sit?’ he asked. ‘I am sure you must be hungry.’

‘What. . what is this?’ Mirage asked, massaging her frozen hands. She sneered at the man. ‘Now you taunt me? Your knife wasn’t enough?’

‘Sit,’ Asher repeated, losing his pleasant demeanour in an instant. ‘Or I will not share any of this with you.’

‘I don’t want any,’ spat Mirage.

‘Then you can go back to your cell and rot.’ Asher looked at her expectantly. ‘What’s that? You don’t want to go back to your cell? You’d rather sit out here and have a nice meal?’ His smirk grew intolerable. ‘That’s what I thought. Sit down, girl. Right now.’

Mirage inched closer to the table, terrified by Asher’s tactics. She was not free; she knew that already. She took her seat at the table, feeling ridiculously out of place with her torn clothes and dirty face. A shining plate sat empty in front of her. The servant standing behind Asher twitched, as if waiting to act. Mirage looked at all the food and the hot, delicious smelling tea. She could not help herself. Her mouth and stomach screamed for it.

‘Your eyes will adjust in a few minutes,’ said Asher, sitting straight as an icicle in his chair. Mirage, however, could barely keep herself erect. She fought against her weakness, trying hard to be the butcher’s equal.

‘Tell me why I’m here,’ she said, her voice scratchy.

‘To talk,’ replied Asher. ‘Tea?’

‘We have talked. We have done nothing but talk. If you mean to torture me, get on with it.’

Asher snapped his finger, bringing the servant to life. Soundlessly the man came to the table and poured tea into both their small cups. He selected an assortment of morsels from the platters, placing them on Mirage’s plate before gracefully withdrawing. Mirage fought to keep her eyes off the food, locking them on Asher.

‘Eat, please,’ said Asher. ‘I know you want to.’

‘Of course I want to, you bastard.’

‘There is no charge for it, girl. You may eat your fill and owe me nothing for it.’

Mirage laughed. ‘You’re so merciful.’

‘This place is my solace, pretty Mirage. I come here to escape the filth of my prison. Even I need to see the sun and listen to the birds sometimes. Does that surprise you?’

‘What do you want?’

‘To talk.’

Mirage groaned, maddened by his answer. ‘Tell me!’

Asher sipped at his tea, unperturbed by her outburst. During his interrogations, his patience had been boundless. When he worked, nothing shook his strange comportment. And he was working now, just as he worked when he sat on his stool in Mirage’s cell, spinning the knife through his fingers. This time, though, his implements were tea cups.

‘Mmm, that’s good,’ he sighed, smacking his lips as he set down his cup. ‘Nice and warm. The prison gets so cold. Sometimes I can’t stand being down in those cells. Mirage, have some tea. It will warm you.’

Mirage felt her body start to tremble.

‘Eat,’ said Asher. ‘I can wait.’

Still Mirage did not touch her food. With some satisfaction, she watched annoyance cross Asher’s face.

‘Will you eat if I command it?’ asked the prison lord. ‘Perhaps that’s the problem. Perhaps you have been in my charge too long already. You have lost every bit of yourself, is that it? In truth I do not care if you eat or starve. I will eat and be happy, and you will still be miserable. And hungry.’

‘I am still my own, Asher,’ gasped Mirage. ‘I am not an animal. I can make my own decisions.’

Amused, Asher lifted his tea cup. ‘Decide, then,’ he said, and began to slowly sip, studying her.

It made no sense to Mirage, none of it. Why should she return to her hole with her stomach empty? To survive Asher’s hellish prison, she needed strength, she decided. Her eyes lowered to her plate, spying a delicate tart. It had probably taken an artisan to create it, but Mirage picked it up and shoved it in her mouth with no more regard than she might have a grape. Its flavour exploded on her tongue. Instead of savouring it, she reached for another, swallowing the first without chewing and chasing it with its twin. Crumbs and bits of fruit fell from her chin as she devoured the treats. Unable to stop, she drowned in the tide of hunger and despair, looking up only briefly to see Asher’s satisfied grin. Asher’s peculiar face — scarred as hers had been — seemed almost lustful as he watched her. The tea cup in his hand shivered slightly, not going to his lips but rather hovering just beyond his mouth. Swallowing hard, Mirage picked up her own tea cup and drank, ignoring the heat of the liquid as she tried to quench her enormous thirst. Though most of it fell down her chin, she drained the cup and hurriedly reached for the urn, grunting for the servant to move off as he tried to pour it for her. The tea sloshed over the rim and onto the linen table cloth as she poured, then lifted the cup with both hands to her mouth. Gasping and drinking at the same time, Mirage finally set the cup down and fell back in her chair, covering her mouth. She stared at Asher, almost in tears.

‘I want more,’ she groaned.

‘Eat,’ crooned Asher. He seemed astonished by her hunger, even entertained. ‘This is your chance now.’

Mirage took his meaning. Thinking of more endless hours of depravation, she filled her mouth with the breads and cheeses and beautifully made sandwiches, sating her hunger as quickly as she could, swallowing in chunks so big they hurt her throat going down. Ignoring Asher, she ate and ate, clearing her plate more than once until at last her bloated stomach could hold no more. A sickening gorged feeling swept over her, making her forehead break out in sweat. Asher noticed the change in her at once.

‘If you’re going to vomit, please, do so out of my sight.’

‘I’m not,’ said Mirage, taking deep breaths. She wondered if she should be grateful for the food, but the thought of thanking Asher turned her stomach even more. ‘I’m done now,’ she said, pushing aside her plate. Suddenly all she wanted was sleep.

‘You have an appetite for such a petite girl,’ Asher remarked. He had not touched a crumb of food himself, a fact that surprised Mirage.

‘You didn’t bring me out here for a meal,’ she said. ‘Why, then?’

‘You are wrong, Mirage. I wanted you to see how things might be if you co-operated. There’s no reason for you to live like a rat in that filthy cell. You can be clean and warm, and well fed. All you have to do is tell me what I want to know.’

‘I’ve told you everything already.’

‘No,’ said Asher. ‘Oh, I admit you’ve told me a great deal. It’s all been fascinating, truly. But you’re hiding something, pretty Mirage.’

‘No,’ Mirage insisted. ‘There’s nothing more. How many times are you going to ask me the same things?’

‘I have not even begun to question you, girl.’

Mirage looked at him across the table. ‘What, then?’

‘Tell me more about Baron Glass,’ said Asher. ‘Tell me why he came to Liiria.’

It was the same, maddening line of inquiry. Mirage sighed, miserable to have to endure it once again. ‘He came to protect Liiria against Jazana Carr. You know that already.’

‘But then he went to her. He joined her.’

‘That’s right.’

‘They were lovers. Tell me about that.’

‘I don’t know anything more.’

‘Baron Glass must be a man of vast appetites. He cared for you as well as the Diamond Queen.’

‘We had no relationship. Not beyond our friendship.’

‘But he wanted more. Do you think that’s why he turned back to Jazana Carr? Because you shunned him, pretty Mirage?’

Mirage looked down at her empty plate. She had never considered that possibility. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Did you love him?’

‘No.’

‘Why are you protecting him? He left you for another woman. He betrayed you and your friends in Liiria, left you to die so that he could overrun you at the library with the Diamond Queen’s hordes.’

‘He didn’t know I was there.’ Mirage felt her neck tighten under Asher’s barrage. ‘Not until after the library fell.’

‘But you went back to him. Corvalos Chane saw you with him.’

‘Because I had nowhere else to go! I’ve told you this already.’

‘Tell me,’ said Asher, ‘about the magic of Grimhold.’

Mirage looked up from her plate into Asher’s laughing eyes, seized by a chill. ‘What?’

Asher set down his tea cup. ‘I wonder — did you really think we didn’t know about it? You’ve been gone far too long, child. Everyone has heard about the Seekers and the magic of Mount Believer. And King Raxor has been thorough. He knows where to place his spies. And not just Corvalos Chane, though he was the first to tell us about the armour.’

Mirage fought to calm herself, to sort through her racing mind. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘You do, you do,’ Asher assured her. ‘The Devil’s Armour. We know about it. Chane spent enough time in the library to hear about it and its power. We know that Baron Glass possesses it.’

He was baiting her. Mirage avoided his hooks. ‘Yes. I heard the same.’

Asher chuckled. ‘That’s it? Nothing more?’

Mirage shrugged. ‘The Devil’s Armour. It came from Grimhold. That’s all.’

‘You know so much. I can see it all over your face. Do you think you’ve done a good job of hiding it from me, all your secrets? You are a child, Mirage. Every time you speak I can see the secrets struggling to get out. Tell me about the Devil’s Armour.’

‘I can’t. I don’t know anything.’

‘You’re protecting a man who crawled into the arms of another woman. A man who killed your friends at the library.’

‘I’m not protecting him,’ Mirage insisted. She felt hot suddenly, her cheeks blooming with colour. All she wanted was to flee. ‘I swear, I don’t know about the magic. Baron Glass has the armour. They say it’s very powerful and ancient. I never saw it or saw him wear it. That’s the truth.’

‘I’ve had my whole life to cultivate patience, pretty Mirage.’

‘So hurt me, then! Stop threatening me and do it.’ Mirage stared at him, her lip curling up hatefully. ‘You can make me scream with your little knife, Asher. But you haven’t. Why not?’

Asher smiled his sick smile. ‘I have enjoyed talking to you. You have been like a breath of fresh air in this putrid place. I’ve shown you courtesy, because it pleases me to do so. But believe me when I tell you this — I will burn out your eyeballs and skin you alive before I let you keep lying to me. I will hang your pelt over my hearth before I ever believe you know nothing about the Devil’s Armour.’

The threat jolted Mirage. Her mind froze. Unable to speak, she simply stared at Asher.

‘It’s your choice, child. You may sit here and enjoy the sunlight and good food and tell me all you know, or you may go back to your cell and await me there. If you tell me what you’re hiding, I promise you an easy time. If you do not, I promise you hell.’

Terror rose in Mirage. Her breathing quickened.

‘You are right,’ Asher went on. ‘I have my knife, and I am not afraid to use it. Do not think for a moment that I would hesitate to do so.’

Mirage thought very hard, but all her options seemed dismal. There was so much she could confess, so much that would satisfy her captor. He would reward her for her information, surely. She would be spared his knife. And all for the simple cost of betraying Grimhold.

‘The guards are waiting, Mirage,’ said Asher. ‘You want to be safe and happy.’ He leaned across the table. ‘Don’t you?’

His tongue was almost out of his mouth as he spoke, waiting to lick her tears. But Mirage did not cry. Summoning the last of her courage, she rose from the chair and turned from Asher’s table, walking back toward the cobblestone path and the waiting prison guards.

Hours passed, and day slipped slowly into night. Back inside her filthy cell, Mirage awaited Asher. She sat as she always did, with her back against the cold wall and her bare feet on the rough floor, her knees tucked like a child against her bosom, wrapping herself for warmth. In the hours since she had seen Asher, not a single guard had come to harass her. Instead, she had all the quiet she needed to think and wonder what Asher would do to her.

Why, she wondered, had he waited so long? She had expected her torture days ago. She stared at the little stool Asher used, sitting forlorn in the corner of her cell, the thin blade of his cherished knife sticking like an arrow from its seat. She could have used the weapon, she supposed, and tried to fight her way out of the prison, but she had always thought that a stupid idea. Asher had purposefully left his knife within her grasp to taunt her, abundantly confidant in her inability to use it. The guards, she knew, would have snapped her like a twig anyway.

‘Why?’ she seethed. ‘Because he enjoys seeing me suffer.’

That was why he had waited so long, when he could have hung her in chains and skinned her days ago. Asher was just a cruel little boy, pulling the wings off butterflies. Not too quickly, or they would die and spoil his fun. But now he was ready. And Mirage was afraid.

She closed her eyes, listening to the distant noises in the dungeon. She had got very good at blocking out the screams, but she heard them now, moaning like wind that never died. Were they enemies of Reec, all of them? Was she? Perhaps. She had admitted her friendship with Baron Glass, and that was enough to condemn her.

‘Then I will die,’ she whispered. She searched her mind for her Akari. ‘Kirsil, will I see you when I die?’

It was a question she had always wondered. All the Inhumans did. Minikin had never told then what would happen when they died, or if there would be life for them at all after death. It was simply too important a mystery, Minikin had explained, and not for any of them to know. Now, though, her sweet Akari Kirsil answered with sincerity.

‘I think so.’

The answer satisfied Mirage. An accepting calm settled over her. She smiled.

Hours more went by unnoticed. Exhausted from fear, Mirage felt her head begin to totter downward. Her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, shutting slowly in a flutter. She slept, though just on the surface of sleep, still faintly aware of every sound and the impending footfalls of her captor. Asher’s deformed face twisted through her dreams. She realized with disgust that his would be the last fact she would see before she died. Not Lukien’s or Minikin’s or any other of the Inhumans she had left behind.

She did not realize how much time had gone by, but when she awoke it was to the sounds of boots scraping closer. Mirage awoke with a start, holding her breath and listening. The noise grew louder as the footsteps approached, unhurried. Bracing herself, Mirage got to her feet to meet Asher, determined not to weep or beg. Squaring her shoulders, she watched as a shadow swept across the threshold of her cell, followed by a large silhouette. Not Asher, Mirage realized. The figure stopped in front of the bars, blocking the meagre lamp behind him and holding a cloak and a pair of boots. Mirage squinted, thinking the figure vaguely familiar.

‘You are awake,’ said the man. ‘Good.’

She recognized his voice at once. ‘Chane. .’

Corvalos Chane had a key in his hand which he expertly used to open her locked cell. As he moved to reveal the light behind him, his stony features came into relief. He looked at her as he unlocked the tumbler and pulled the bars open. There was no smile on his weathered face, only an expression of satisfaction. Stepping into the cell, he tossed the cloak and boots at her naked feet.

‘Dress yourself,’ he said. ‘We’re going.’

Hes the Serene, capital of Reec, spread out around Mirage like a sleeping dragon, twinkling with candlelight and still as a grave. Homes and businesses along the avenues had shut their doors hours ago, and the squat towers of the city brooded over the streets. Fading moonlight carpeted the cobblestones and brown, wooden structures, and the breeze stirred unlocked shutters as it tumbled down the lane. Mirage shivered in her cloak, burying her face in the fur lining. Corvalos Chane’s broad chest pressed against her back as they rode, warming her. Their horse trotted slowly along the empty avenue, making lonely music as its hooves struck the paving stones. Up ahead, the two towers of Castle Hes beckoned, hanging over the city from their grassy green hill. In the silence of the city, time stretched like syrup. The lateness of the hour had put all of Hes to sleep, as though the capital had fallen under a peaceful spell.

From Asher’s prison on the outskirts of Hes, it had not taken long for the pair to ride this far. Hes was not like Koth, Mirage realized. Instead the city was smaller and more compact, without Koth’s towering spires and tangled alleys. In less than half an hour, Mirage and Chane had left the prison and made it almost to their destination. And in all that time, Chane had barely said a word to her, ignoring her pleas for an explanation. She knew they were going to the castle, and that was all. Mirage shifted on the horse’s back, full of trepidation. She had been exhausted when Chane had come to her cell, and the big man had helped her out of the prison, almost carrying her up the winding stairs. Amazingly, neither Asher nor his guards had stopped them. The lord of the prison had not even come to see her go, a mystery that puzzled Mirage. Chane had helped her onto his horse, and they had simply ridden away from the prison. She was free.

Fighting the chill that had taken her, Mirage huddled the cloak around her shoulders as Castle Hes came clearer into view. ‘I want answers,’ she demanded. ‘Why are we going there?’

‘Sit still.’

Pinned between his arms, Mirage squirmed. ‘Am I to be executed? Is that it? Or do you have some other torture waiting for me?’

‘No torture,’ Chane replied. ‘Unless you prefer going back to Asher. That’s still a possibility.’

‘Chane, tell me what’s going on!’

Corvalos Chane, who had been called the ‘right hand’ of King Raxor, thought for a moment before answering. Mirage twisted to glance over her shoulder. His white eyebrows knitted together.

‘You are wondering why Asher did not harm you,’ he said. ‘Why do you think?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Mirage. The question still vexed her. ‘He could have tortured me. He told me he would.’

‘He did not because I forbade it, when I brought you to him.’

Mirage craned to look at him again. ‘What?’

‘Asher likes his work too much. He was not lying to you, girl. He has a place where he takes his favourite women, and you were a favourite, I could tell.’

‘You saved me? Why?’

‘Because I have seen his handiwork. He is not a man at all. He is a crazed dog.’

Mirage still did not understand. Suddenly she wanted to be down from the horse, so that she could face Chane properly. ‘Stop,’ she said. ‘Let me

down and explain this to me.’

‘You are expected at the castle.’

‘Let me down!’

Chane heaved a groan and drew their horse to a halt in the middle of the avenue. Mirage knew she could not dismount until he did, and he did not. ‘You’re a harpy,’ he said with frustration. ‘That won’t do at all. If you hear nothing else I tell you, at least listen to this — you are safe from Asher for now, but only for as long as you co-operate. When you get to the castle you can’t act like this.’

Mirage grit her teeth. ‘Chane, if you don’t tell me what’s going on. .’

‘What? What will you do?’

‘Believe me, I can make enough of a scene to embarrass you.’

‘I believe you.’

Dismounting, Chane slid down gracefully to the cobblestone street. ‘Stay up there,’ he ordered. ‘We won’t be stopping long.’

It was the first time that night Mirage got a good look at him. His weathered features crinkled in the moonlight. ‘I’m ready for an answer,’ she said. ‘Why are you taking me to Castle Hes? Why did you save me from Asher?’

‘I told you that already. Asher would have skinned you alive, just as he promised. It’s what he does.’

‘That’s not all. It can’t be. What do you care what happens to me?’

Corvalos Chane replied, ‘There aren’t many who could stop Asher. In his prison, he’s the master. But being who I am, I have some authority over him.’

‘The king’s man,’ said Mirage. ‘Is that what you mean?’

Chane nodded. ‘When I took you to him five days ago, I told him not to harm you. He resisted, of course. He took an immediate liking to you.’

‘I noticed,’ said Mirage, feeling cold again. ‘But why? Why did you give that order? Not just to save me. That can’t be it. You said yourself I’m an enemy of Reec.’

‘Asher got a lot of good information out of you. I know because I get his reports. For the past two days he’s been begging me to rescind my order. Tonight he sent me a letter. He said that he’d gone far enough, and that he was going to do what was necessary. He was going to disregard my order.’

‘You mean torture me.’

‘That’s right. His lust finally got the better of him. I rode to stop him.’

‘Just like that? He must have protested.’

‘He did,’ Chane admitted. ‘I ignored him. Asher is very bold from a distance, but cowers like a schoolboy when confronted.’

‘So, my interrogation isn’t done, then,’ said Mirage. She glanced away, unable to face Chane’s probing eyes. ‘That’s why you’re taking me to the castle. You’ll be taking me for yourself.’

‘You still have secrets,’ said Chane. ‘About Baron Glass. About his armour. Don’t deny it, girl. Asher says that you know more, and he is never wrong about such things.’

‘So, you’ll take the pleasure of torturing me yourself, then?’ Mirage glared at Chane, wanting to pepper him with curses. ‘Do what you wish. I’ll tell you nothing.’

‘You would tell me everything I could ever want to know,’ said Chane. ‘An hour with me and you would be begging for death. Asher’s not the only one who can use a knife.’

‘So?’ flared Mirage. ‘Why did you take me away from him? If all you mean to do is kill me. .’

‘Quiet,’ snapped Chane. ‘You’re not to be tortured. I didn’t save you from that madman just to have you harmed. That’s not why I’m taking you to Castle Hes. There’s something else.’

‘What?’ asked Mirage, dreading his answer.

Chane took hold of the horse’s reins. He looked up at her calmly and said, ‘You’re to be a gift for King Raxor.’

Mirage frowned as if she hadn’t heard right. ‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re to be one of the king’s women,’ said Chane, ‘just as I am the king’s man.’

‘Those mean two different things, though,’ said Mirage, groping for understanding. ‘I’m no man’s slave!’

‘This isn’t slavery, girl.’

‘Yes, yes it is!’ Mirage sputtered. ‘You’re talking about a concubine. What is that, if not a slave?’

‘You are to be one of the king’s women,’ repeated Chane firmly. So that Mirage could not bolt, he kept his fist tight on the horse. ‘It’s been settled.’

‘No!’ Mirage railed. Her mind raced for a way to escape. ‘You saved me for this? I won’t do it.’

‘You will, because you have no choice. King Raxor will love you. I knew it when I first saw you. That’s why I made sure Asher did nothing to you.’

‘So you let him torment me?’

‘Why not?’ Chane barked. ‘I was right about you, girl. You have information.’

‘I won’t give it,’ Mirage promised. ‘Never. Is this your way of trying to make me talk? Another game like Asher played with me? Well his game didn’t work and this won’t either. You can enslave me, make me one of your king’s whores. I won’t tell you what I know. Not ever.’

‘This is not a game,’ Chane assured her. ‘I have already told King Raxor about you. I promised him a woman of remarkable beauty, a women to make his heart sing.’

‘But that’s not me! And he’s the king! Surely he can have his pick of women.’

‘You.’

Chane began leading the horse along the avenue, resuming their trek toward Castle Hes. Mirage looked desperately around, searching for any way to escape. The quiet city might give ample places to hide, but if she ran Chane would simply mount the horse and stop her. So she tried pleading instead.

‘Listen to me,’ she begged. ‘I won’t be the kind of woman your king wants. If you do this, you’ll just be hurting yourself, Chane. I won’t please your king. I’ll be the worst bitch he’s ever seen.’

‘Then you will be punished,’ said Chane.

‘Stop! Please. .’

Chane halted, again turning to regard her. ‘Girl, you’re not understanding. You have no choice, except the obvious one. You can either agree to this or be sent back to Asher. Tonight. Asher keeps his knives sharp. He’ll be ready for you.’

‘Be skinned alive or be a whore to your king? That’s no choice at all,’ said Mirage bitterly.

Chane shrugged. ‘But there it is. .’

He resumed leading the horse down the street. And Mirage was out of answers. She slumped on the beast’s back, all her arguments lost, the last of her hope snuffed out like a candle. Castle Hes loomed in the distance, growing ever closer. She could see its spiked portcullis glowing in torchlight. Her courage withered, and for the first time she cursed her newfound beauty. Even covered in grime, her hair matted with filth, men still lusted for her, men like Asher with their twisted appetites and men like Raxor, always eager to bed some new harlot. For a moment, she had thought that Chane, too, had lusted for her, assuming that to be his motive for saving her. But Chane wasn’t like other men. He was cruel like them, certainly, but he had not heart at all, just the clockworks of a machine spinning in his chest.

‘You’ve told your king about me?’ she asked.

Chane did not turn to look at her, but kept on walking. ‘That’s right. And you’ll be good to him, girl, or you’ll be sorry.’

‘I had thought you meant to rape me when you caught me. I thought you saw me in that bar and meant to take me for yourself. But you’re not even man enough to do that, are you? You’re just a blind dog, doing whatever your master bids.’

‘I have my duty,’ said Chane, barely bristling.

‘Yes, no mind of your own,’ spat Mirage. ‘And nothing between your legs. If you were a man — a real man — you’d let me go. You’d see the wrongness in all of this.’

‘You’re reaching, girl.’

Mirage didn’t care. ‘This is my chance to tell you what I think of you, Corvalos Chane. You’re as much a slave as I am, only you’re too stupid to know it. Is this what it means to be the right hand of Raxor? To find him poor girls? I can’t wait to see what a monster he must be, to have to send you out to get women for him. What a bastard he must be. .’

‘Enough!’ roared Chane. With a face like thunder, he turned on her and jerked the reins until she almost tumbled. ‘You may speak of me as you wish, but if you ever speak so of the king again I swear I will kill you. Do you understand? Beautiful or not, I will kill you.’

Mirage met his wild gaze, refusing to back down. ‘That’s your duty too, I suppose. To kill innocent people. No women for Corvalos Chane, the mindless eunuch.’

‘You know nothing,’ said Chane. ‘I cannot have a woman. I am devoted to King Raxor. He is my life, my only reason for existing. So close your mouth or when we get to the castle I will have one of the seamstresses sew it closed.’

Chane continued his march toward Castle Hes, this time more quickly. Mirage shrank in the saddle. No amount of jeering could deter him, she knew, and the bitterness in his words had surprised her. There was, she supposed, something human in him after all.

‘You may lie to me, even to yourself,’ she said. ‘But I know why you saved me. Because you didn’t want to see me harmed.’

‘I already told you that. Now be quiet.’

‘I’ll give you myself if you let me go, Corvalos Chane.’

Chane slowed but did not turn to face her. ‘Stop now.’

‘Just one night,’ said Mirage. ‘You can have me.’

‘Please, stop talking.’ Chane came to a halt. He turned around slowly. ‘Don’t do this to yourself, girl. However much I may crave you, I can never have a woman. So do not bargain yourself. You have pride. You’re not a whore, and King Raxor will not make you one.’

Finally, Mirage surrendered. Her fac?ade dissolved, leaving her unable to argue or even believe the things she was saying. She nodded, stifling tears that threatened to burst from her eyes. ‘Take me to the castle, then,’ she said. ‘But know this — I will not give up my secrets.’

Something like pity crossed Chane’s face. ‘You will, girl. You just don’t know it yet. In time, whatever you know about Baron Glass and his armour will come falling out of your mouth, and you won’t be able to stop it.’

‘You’re wrong,’ said Mirage.

Chane smiled, not victoriously. ‘You’ll never leave Reec. Your life in Liiria is over, and once you realize that you’ll see there’s no value at all in your keeping secrets.’

Then, without another word between them, Chane led Mirage the rest of the way to Castle Hes.