small.
“How did you learn our language, warrior?”
“I…do not know. I—after the assault, when I was taken prisoner, the soldiers spoke to me, and I understood.”
“This was after the—” She checked a paper on her desk. “After the dark scythe, the magic, was it not?”
“Yes, General.”
“You were captured in the breach?”
“Yes, General.”
“And you never advanced into the city. Is that correct?”
“No, General.”
Her head came up and she stared. “No?”
“Fox—my partner and I were in the First and Finest, those leading the assault. We took the breach, held it for the next wave, then advanced into the city.” Talking about the past, things that had already happened would surely hurt nothing.
“How far into the city?” She spread a map on the desk, obviously expecting him to come look. Stone spared a glance for his guard who grunted and prodded him forward with the pike.
Uskenda indicated the position of the breach and the high-spired temple with its colored windows. Stone pointed to a street a quarter of the way between, his shackles rattling. “Here.”
“Are you sure?” She held his gaze, the light gray of her eyes almost as unsettling as the blue of the witch’s. “Every other Tibran within the city walls was found dead.”
Stone studied the map again, letting the shivers take him. He was among witches now. He had to live with the fear. “It might have been here.” He pointed at a place a few streets to the south. “My memory isn’t good, not for those minutes—but I know we were inside the city.”
“Then how is it you were found in the breach? Alive?”
He met her gaze, held it, willed her to believe him. He did not want her to call the witch back when he was telling the truth. “I do not know. I remember the world coming to an end. And then I remember waking up in the breach. Nothing else.”
They stared eye into eye for a long moment more, until Uskenda broke contact, looking down again at the map. The guard crashing to attention startled both of them. “General,” he rapped out.
“What is it, Sergeant?”
“There is a mark on his neck.”
The general’s eyes widened and her eyes flicked from one man to the other. “What kind of mark? Show me.”
The guard seized Stone by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to his knees, shoving his head forward. He raked the pigtail out of the way. Uskenda’s gasp as she touched a finger lightly to the nape of Stone’s neck sent a thrill of terror shooting through him yet again. What was this mark? What did it mean?
The guard released Stone’s head, but held him on his knees with a foot on the chain connecting wrist shackles to leg irons. Uskenda shuffled through the papers on her desk. She found the one for which she searched and scanned it quickly.
“You say this man has been behaving strangely?” she asked the guard.
“He beats his head on the wall and claws at the stones. You see the bandages. His hands are much worse than his forehead.”
“Does he know he is doing this?”
The guard shrugged. “Who can say? All Tibrans are barmy, you ask me.”
“Are you aware?” Uskenda asked Stone. “When you do these things?”
He didn’t want to answer. But more, he didn’t want magic mucking through his mind, making things worse than they already were. “No.”
Uskenda touched the back of his head and he bent it obediently forward. She moved the pigtail aside but made no attempt to touch him again. Then she released him and stepped back, her boot heels a brisk clap against the polished wooden floor. “Make ready to take the prisoner to Arikon.” Her orders snapped out with spine-chilling authority, the corporal appearing again to take them. “I wish I had seen him earlier so I might have sent him with Captain Varyl, but no matter. He will go on the next boat, at dawn tomorrow. Inform your captain. I want him escorted by an officer and a quarto of her best soldiers.”
Once more, the guard
“How did you learn our language, warrior?”
“I…do not know. I—after the assault, when I was taken prisoner, the soldiers spoke to me, and I understood.”
“This was after the—” She checked a paper on her desk. “After the dark scythe, the magic, was it not?”
“Yes, General.”
“You were captured in the breach?”
“Yes, General.”
“And you never advanced into the city. Is that correct?”
“No, General.”
Her head came up and she stared. “No?”
“Fox—my partner and I were in the First and Finest, those leading the assault. We took the breach, held it for the next wave, then advanced into the city.” Talking about the past, things that had already happened would surely hurt nothing.
“How far into the city?” She spread a map on the desk, obviously expecting him to come look. Stone spared a glance for his guard who grunted and prodded him forward with the pike.
Uskenda indicated the position of the breach and the high-spired temple with its colored windows. Stone pointed to a street a quarter of the way between, his shackles rattling. “Here.”
“Are you sure?” She held his gaze, the light gray of her eyes almost as unsettling as the blue of the witch’s. “Every other Tibran within the city walls was found dead.”
Stone studied the map again, letting the shivers take him. He was among witches now. He had to live with the fear. “It might have been here.” He pointed at a place a few streets to the south. “My memory isn’t good, not for those minutes—but I know we were inside the city.”
“Then how is it you were found in the breach? Alive?”
He met her gaze, held it, willed her to believe him. He did not want her to call the witch back when he was telling the truth. “I do not know. I remember the world coming to an end. And then I remember waking up in the breach. Nothing else.”
They stared eye into eye for a long moment more, until Uskenda broke contact, looking down again at the map. The guard crashing to attention startled both of them. “General,” he rapped out.
“What is it, Sergeant?”
“There is a mark on his neck.”
The general’s eyes widened and her eyes flicked from one man to the other. “What kind of mark? Show me.”
The guard seized Stone by the scruff of his neck, forcing him to his knees, shoving his head forward. He raked the pigtail out of the way. Uskenda’s gasp as she touched a finger lightly to the nape of Stone’s neck sent a thrill of terror shooting through him yet again. What was this mark? What did it mean?
The guard released Stone’s head, but held him on his knees with a foot on the chain connecting wrist shackles to leg irons. Uskenda shuffled through the papers on her desk. She found the one for which she searched and scanned it quickly.
“You say this man has been behaving strangely?” she asked the guard.
“He beats his head on the wall and claws at the stones. You see the bandages. His hands are much worse than his forehead.”
“Does he know he is doing this?”
The guard shrugged. “Who can say? All Tibrans are barmy, you ask me.”
“Are you aware?” Uskenda asked Stone. “When you do these things?”
He didn’t want to answer. But more, he didn’t want magic mucking through his mind, making things worse than they already were. “No.”
Uskenda touched the back of his head and he bent it obediently forward. She moved the pigtail aside but made no attempt to touch him again. Then she released him and stepped back, her boot heels a brisk clap against the polished wooden floor. “Make ready to take the prisoner to Arikon.” Her orders snapped out with spine-chilling authority, the corporal appearing again to take them. “I wish I had seen him earlier so I might have sent him with Captain Varyl, but no matter. He will go on the next boat, at dawn tomorrow. Inform your captain. I want him escorted by an officer and a quarto of her best soldiers.”
Once more, the guard
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