territory,” Thren said as he let go of Ridley to kneel before the closed door. “This home here is owned by a fat merchant who cheated on his wife at one of my … well, what used to be one of my whorehouses. She left him about a year ago, and I don’t think there’s been a day since where he actually falls asleep in his own bed instead of a tavern or a whorehouse.”
It took his father less than a minute to pick the lock, but it still felt like an eternity. Haern kept his eyes to the rooftops, alert for unwelcome visitors. Nothing. It seemed luck was now on their side. As Thren shoved open the door, Haern hefted Ridley back into his arms, dragging him inside. Given the nature of their intended conversation with Ridley, and the likely screaming that would accompany it, Haern moved on past the initial living room and to the bedroom in the back. With a grunt he plopped Ridley down onto the bed, then turned to his father, who entered the room holding his injured arm.
“Will you be all right?” Haern asked.
“I’m fine,” Thren said. “Didn’t tear muscle, only skin, now let’s get this bastard tied up before he wakes.”
Since they had no rope, they made do with the sheets on the bed, using their swords to cut ragged but usable strips. As they worked, Haern realized how easy it all was, how natural. For the third time in recent memory he would torture a man for information at the side of his father. He knew, deep down, that this should give him chills … but it didn’t. Instead he felt the weight of the city upon his shoulders, the lives of hundreds of thousands who would die if Muzien’s tiles erupted, blasting the city with fire and destruction. Staring down at a miserable human being like Ridley, he found it difficult to summon any empathy or guilt.
Delysia wouldn’t approve
, Haern thought as they waited for Ridley to return to consciousness. Then again, that seemed to be an all-too-familiar occurrence as well. He’d always used her as his guide, but perhaps she was right to say she could no longer be that for him. The world was filled with dark places, and ruled by people like Muzien. To stand against it, he had to dwell in those dark places. Still, should it really feel so satisfying to cut down the Sun Guild’s men?
“He’s waking,” Thren said, stirring Haern from his thoughts. Drawing a dagger from his belt, Thren knelt over Ridley and put the blade to the man’s face so it’d be there when he awoke. Just the flat edge, no risk of drawing blood. Haern crossed his arms, willing to let his father do the dirty work. As if emerging from below water, Ridley awoke coughing and gagging. The makeshift ropes easily held him. Thren calmly waited, showing no real hurry. Haern steeled himself against the brutality that would surely follow.
We do what must be done
, Haern told himself. It felt like the words weren’t for him, but the specter of Delysia he felt watching them.
That’s all. What must be done. Like putting down a rabid dog, or amputating a rotting limb. Sometimes the real world has to be messy
.
“Welcome back,” Thren said as Ridley opened his eyes. His gaze flicked between the two of them, and there was no hiding his panic.
Good
, thought Haern. The more the man was afraid, the easier it’d be to break him. Thren saw this as well, and a smile blossomed on his face.
“You two are dead men for this,” Ridley said, putting on a brave front.
“Is that so?” Thren said. “Your leader’s already condemned us, yet here we both are. Seems like Muzien might not be quite so godlike as he pretends.”
Ridley swallowed hard, and Haern caught him subtly testing the limits of his bonds. They would not give, of course. Both Haern and Thren knew how to restrain a prisoner.
“What do you want from me?” Ridley asked after letting out a deep breath.
Thren removed the dagger from Ridley’s face, twirled it in his hand.
“Well now, this might be easier than I hoped,” he said. “Less
It took his father less than a minute to pick the lock, but it still felt like an eternity. Haern kept his eyes to the rooftops, alert for unwelcome visitors. Nothing. It seemed luck was now on their side. As Thren shoved open the door, Haern hefted Ridley back into his arms, dragging him inside. Given the nature of their intended conversation with Ridley, and the likely screaming that would accompany it, Haern moved on past the initial living room and to the bedroom in the back. With a grunt he plopped Ridley down onto the bed, then turned to his father, who entered the room holding his injured arm.
“Will you be all right?” Haern asked.
“I’m fine,” Thren said. “Didn’t tear muscle, only skin, now let’s get this bastard tied up before he wakes.”
Since they had no rope, they made do with the sheets on the bed, using their swords to cut ragged but usable strips. As they worked, Haern realized how easy it all was, how natural. For the third time in recent memory he would torture a man for information at the side of his father. He knew, deep down, that this should give him chills … but it didn’t. Instead he felt the weight of the city upon his shoulders, the lives of hundreds of thousands who would die if Muzien’s tiles erupted, blasting the city with fire and destruction. Staring down at a miserable human being like Ridley, he found it difficult to summon any empathy or guilt.
Delysia wouldn’t approve
, Haern thought as they waited for Ridley to return to consciousness. Then again, that seemed to be an all-too-familiar occurrence as well. He’d always used her as his guide, but perhaps she was right to say she could no longer be that for him. The world was filled with dark places, and ruled by people like Muzien. To stand against it, he had to dwell in those dark places. Still, should it really feel so satisfying to cut down the Sun Guild’s men?
“He’s waking,” Thren said, stirring Haern from his thoughts. Drawing a dagger from his belt, Thren knelt over Ridley and put the blade to the man’s face so it’d be there when he awoke. Just the flat edge, no risk of drawing blood. Haern crossed his arms, willing to let his father do the dirty work. As if emerging from below water, Ridley awoke coughing and gagging. The makeshift ropes easily held him. Thren calmly waited, showing no real hurry. Haern steeled himself against the brutality that would surely follow.
We do what must be done
, Haern told himself. It felt like the words weren’t for him, but the specter of Delysia he felt watching them.
That’s all. What must be done. Like putting down a rabid dog, or amputating a rotting limb. Sometimes the real world has to be messy
.
“Welcome back,” Thren said as Ridley opened his eyes. His gaze flicked between the two of them, and there was no hiding his panic.
Good
, thought Haern. The more the man was afraid, the easier it’d be to break him. Thren saw this as well, and a smile blossomed on his face.
“You two are dead men for this,” Ridley said, putting on a brave front.
“Is that so?” Thren said. “Your leader’s already condemned us, yet here we both are. Seems like Muzien might not be quite so godlike as he pretends.”
Ridley swallowed hard, and Haern caught him subtly testing the limits of his bonds. They would not give, of course. Both Haern and Thren knew how to restrain a prisoner.
“What do you want from me?” Ridley asked after letting out a deep breath.
Thren removed the dagger from Ridley’s face, twirled it in his hand.
“Well now, this might be easier than I hoped,” he said. “Less
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