Poison Study
Page 89
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While Valek picked the two locks, Reyad chatted on. “My father will soon send you to me, Yelena. I’m looking forward to spending eternity with you.” He leered and wiggled his fingers at me.
But I was no longer interested in the ghost. The contents of the room before me riveted my attention. Inside, dozens of women and a few men flinched from the yellow beam of Valek’s lantern. Greasy hair obscured their dirt-streaked faces. Rags clung to their emaciated bodies. None of them spoke or cried out. To my increasing horror, I realized they were chained to the floor. In circles. One outer circle and two inner rings with lines painted between them.
When Valek and I stepped into the room, the foul stench of unwashed bodies and excrement wafted through the air. Gagging, I covered my mouth. Valek moved among them, asking questions. Who are you? Why are you here? His queries were met with silence. Their vacant eyes followed his passage. They remained where they were chained, staring.
I began to recognize some of the grubby faces. They had lived in the orphanage with me. They were the older girls and boys who had “graduated” and were supposed to be employed throughout the district. The sight of one girl, her ginger hair dull and matted, finally made me cry out in pain.
Carra’s soft brown eyes held no sign of intelligence as I stroked her shoulder and whispered her name. The free-spirited girl I had cared for in the orphanage had become a mindless, empty shell of a woman.
“My students,” Reyad said. His chest puffed out in pride as he floated in the middle of the room.
“The ones who didn’t fail.”
“What now?” I asked Valek with a shaky voice.
“You’re arrested and thrown in the dungeon,” Mogkan answered from the entrance.
Valek and I spun in unison. Mogkan loomed in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Valek charged him; fury blazed in his eyes. Mogkan stepped back into the hallway. I saw Valek stop just past the doorway and raise his hands in the air. Damn, I thought, racing to help him.
Mogkan stood like a coward behind eight guards. The tips of their swords were aimed mere inches from Valek’s chest.
Chapter Thirty
As sword points pricked my back, i watched valek, expecting him to spring into action during the whole miserable trip to Brazell’s holding cells. I waited for him to blur into motion as they stripped and searched us, enduring the humiliation of being prodded and poked by rough hands as they confiscated my backpack, switchblade and necklace. Losing my clothing didn’t upset me as much as losing Valek’s butterfly and my amulet.
I prepared for a sudden jailbreak when we were led down into the prison, and was still waiting as we were shoved into adjoining cells.
I held my breath as the heavy metal lock clanged shut on our underground chambers. The soldiers tossed our clothing in through the bars. Then they left, abandoning us to blackness. I fumbled with my uniform, trying to button my shirt in the dark.
Here I was again. A nightmare turned real as we went through the guardroom, down one flight of steps, and into Brazell’s small dungeon, which only contained eight cells, four on each side of a short corridor. Valek and I were in the two cells closest and to the left of the steps. A familiarly loud, rancid stench permeated the prison. The thick, silty air so overpowered my senses that it took me a while to realize we were the only occupants.
Unable to bear the sudden quiet, I asked, “Valek?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you fight the guards? I would have helped you.”
“Eight men had drawn swords pointed at my chest. Any sudden movement and I would have been skewered. I’m flattered that you think I could win against those odds. Four armed opponents, maybe, but eight is definitely too many.”
I could hear the amusement in Valek’s voice.
“Then we pick the locks and make our escape?” My confidence was based on the fact that Valek was a master assassin and trained fighter, a man who wouldn’t stay confined for long.
“That would be ideal, provided we had something to pick them with,” Valek replied, dashing my hopes.
I searched my cell with my hands. Finding nothing but filthy straw, rat droppings and unrecognizable muck, I sank to the floor with my back against the one stone wall I shared with Valek.
After a long moment, Valek asked, “Was that your fate? If you hadn’t killed Reyad, were you slated to be chained to the floor, mindless?”
The image of those captives burned in my mind. My flesh crawled. For the first time, I was content to have failed Reyad’s tests.
As I thought more about them, I remembered a comment Irys had made regarding a magician’s ability to steal magic from others. Finally, the significance of the women and men sitting in circles hit me. Mogkan’s extra power came from those chained captives. Brazell, Reyad and Mogkan must have screened the children of the orphanage for magical potential. Then, while experimenting on them, Mogkan had wiped their minds clean, leaving them mindless vessels from which to draw more power.
“I think Brazell and Reyad were determined to reduce me to that mental state. But I endured.” I explained my theory about the captives to Valek.
“Tell me what happened to you,” Valek said, his voice tight.
I paused. Then my tale flowed from my lips, in bits and pieces at first, but the words soon gushed with the same speed as the tears streaking down my face. I didn’t spare him any details. I didn’t gloss over the unpleasant parts. Telling Valek everything about my two years as a laboratory rat, Reyad’s tortures and torments, the cruel games, the humiliations, the beatings, the longing to be good for Reyad, and, finally, the rape that led to murder, I purged myself of the black stain of Reyad. I felt light-headed with the release.
But I was no longer interested in the ghost. The contents of the room before me riveted my attention. Inside, dozens of women and a few men flinched from the yellow beam of Valek’s lantern. Greasy hair obscured their dirt-streaked faces. Rags clung to their emaciated bodies. None of them spoke or cried out. To my increasing horror, I realized they were chained to the floor. In circles. One outer circle and two inner rings with lines painted between them.
When Valek and I stepped into the room, the foul stench of unwashed bodies and excrement wafted through the air. Gagging, I covered my mouth. Valek moved among them, asking questions. Who are you? Why are you here? His queries were met with silence. Their vacant eyes followed his passage. They remained where they were chained, staring.
I began to recognize some of the grubby faces. They had lived in the orphanage with me. They were the older girls and boys who had “graduated” and were supposed to be employed throughout the district. The sight of one girl, her ginger hair dull and matted, finally made me cry out in pain.
Carra’s soft brown eyes held no sign of intelligence as I stroked her shoulder and whispered her name. The free-spirited girl I had cared for in the orphanage had become a mindless, empty shell of a woman.
“My students,” Reyad said. His chest puffed out in pride as he floated in the middle of the room.
“The ones who didn’t fail.”
“What now?” I asked Valek with a shaky voice.
“You’re arrested and thrown in the dungeon,” Mogkan answered from the entrance.
Valek and I spun in unison. Mogkan loomed in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. Valek charged him; fury blazed in his eyes. Mogkan stepped back into the hallway. I saw Valek stop just past the doorway and raise his hands in the air. Damn, I thought, racing to help him.
Mogkan stood like a coward behind eight guards. The tips of their swords were aimed mere inches from Valek’s chest.
Chapter Thirty
As sword points pricked my back, i watched valek, expecting him to spring into action during the whole miserable trip to Brazell’s holding cells. I waited for him to blur into motion as they stripped and searched us, enduring the humiliation of being prodded and poked by rough hands as they confiscated my backpack, switchblade and necklace. Losing my clothing didn’t upset me as much as losing Valek’s butterfly and my amulet.
I prepared for a sudden jailbreak when we were led down into the prison, and was still waiting as we were shoved into adjoining cells.
I held my breath as the heavy metal lock clanged shut on our underground chambers. The soldiers tossed our clothing in through the bars. Then they left, abandoning us to blackness. I fumbled with my uniform, trying to button my shirt in the dark.
Here I was again. A nightmare turned real as we went through the guardroom, down one flight of steps, and into Brazell’s small dungeon, which only contained eight cells, four on each side of a short corridor. Valek and I were in the two cells closest and to the left of the steps. A familiarly loud, rancid stench permeated the prison. The thick, silty air so overpowered my senses that it took me a while to realize we were the only occupants.
Unable to bear the sudden quiet, I asked, “Valek?”
“What?”
“Why didn’t you fight the guards? I would have helped you.”
“Eight men had drawn swords pointed at my chest. Any sudden movement and I would have been skewered. I’m flattered that you think I could win against those odds. Four armed opponents, maybe, but eight is definitely too many.”
I could hear the amusement in Valek’s voice.
“Then we pick the locks and make our escape?” My confidence was based on the fact that Valek was a master assassin and trained fighter, a man who wouldn’t stay confined for long.
“That would be ideal, provided we had something to pick them with,” Valek replied, dashing my hopes.
I searched my cell with my hands. Finding nothing but filthy straw, rat droppings and unrecognizable muck, I sank to the floor with my back against the one stone wall I shared with Valek.
After a long moment, Valek asked, “Was that your fate? If you hadn’t killed Reyad, were you slated to be chained to the floor, mindless?”
The image of those captives burned in my mind. My flesh crawled. For the first time, I was content to have failed Reyad’s tests.
As I thought more about them, I remembered a comment Irys had made regarding a magician’s ability to steal magic from others. Finally, the significance of the women and men sitting in circles hit me. Mogkan’s extra power came from those chained captives. Brazell, Reyad and Mogkan must have screened the children of the orphanage for magical potential. Then, while experimenting on them, Mogkan had wiped their minds clean, leaving them mindless vessels from which to draw more power.
“I think Brazell and Reyad were determined to reduce me to that mental state. But I endured.” I explained my theory about the captives to Valek.
“Tell me what happened to you,” Valek said, his voice tight.
I paused. Then my tale flowed from my lips, in bits and pieces at first, but the words soon gushed with the same speed as the tears streaking down my face. I didn’t spare him any details. I didn’t gloss over the unpleasant parts. Telling Valek everything about my two years as a laboratory rat, Reyad’s tortures and torments, the cruel games, the humiliations, the beatings, the longing to be good for Reyad, and, finally, the rape that led to murder, I purged myself of the black stain of Reyad. I felt light-headed with the release.
