Valley of Silence
Page 10

“I would be grateful if you would try, or at least interpret. If indeed, his tongue is one you know. There are likely a few things in the world you don’t know, so you may be of no use to me at all.”
Amusement flickered briefly in his eyes. “Now you’re being nasty.”
“Tit for tat.”
“All right, all right. Glenna, my beauty, stop hovering.”
“You lost considerable blood,” she began, but he only lifted the goblet.
“Replacing, even as we speak.” With a slight grimace, he got to his feet. “I need a goddamn shirt.”
“Blair,” Moira said in even tones, “would you fetch Cian a goddamn shirt?”
“On that.”
“You’ve made a habit of saving my life,” Moira said to Cian.
“Apparently. I’m thinking of giving that up.”
“I could hardly blame you.”
“Here you go, champ.” Blair offered Cian a fresh white shirt. “I think the guy’s Czech, or possibly Bulgarian. Can you handle either of those?”
“As it happens.”
They went into the great hall where the assassin sat, bruised, bleeding and chained, under heavy guard. That guard included both Larkin and Hoyt. When Cian entered, Hoyt stepped away from his post.
“Well enough?” he asked Cian.
“I’ll do. And it cheers me considerably that he looks a hell of a lot worse than I do. Pull your guards back,” he said to Moira. “He won’t be going anywhere.”
“Stand down. Sir Cian will be in charge here.”
“Sir Cian, my ass.” But he only muttered it as he approached the prisoner.
Cian circled him, gauging ground. The man was slight of build and dressed in what would be the rough clothes of a farmer or shepherd. One eye was swollen shut, the other going black and blue. He’d lost a couple of teeth.
Cian snapped out a command in Czech. The man jolted, his single working eye rolling up in surprise.
But he didn’t speak.
“You understood that,” Cian continued in the same language. “I asked if there are others with you. I won’t ask again.”
When he was met with silence, Cian struck out with enough force to have the prisoner slamming back against the wall, along with the chair he was chained to.
“For every thirty seconds of silence, I’ll give you pain.”
“I’m not afraid of pain.”
“Oh, you will be.” Cian jerked the chair and the man upright, kept his face close. “Do you know what I am?”
“I know what you are.” The man used his bloodied mouth to sneer. “Traitor.”
“That’s one viewpoint. But the important thing to remember is that I can give you pain beyond what even such as you can stand. I can keep you alive for days, weeks, come to that. And in constant agony.” He lowered his voice to a hiss. “I’d enjoy it. So let’s begin again.”
He didn’t bother to ask the question, as he’d warned he wouldn’t repeat it.
“Could use a spoon,” he said conversationally. “That left eye looks painful. If I had a spoon handy, I could scoop it right out of its socket for you. Of course, I could use my fingers,” he continued when that eye wheeled wildly. “But then I’d have a mess on my hands, wouldn’t I?”
“Do your worst,” the man spat out—but he’d begun to tremble a little. “I’ll never betray my queen.”
“Bollocks.” The shudders and sweat told him this one would be easily and quickly broken. “You’ll not only betray her before I’m done with you, you’ll do it dancing the hornpipe if I tell you to. But let’s just be quick and direct as we’ve all better things to do.”
The man’s head jerked back as Cian moved. But instead of going for the face as his quarry anticipated, Cian reached down, gripped the man’s cock. And squeezed until there was nothing but screams.
“There’s no one else! I’m alone, I’m alone!”
“Be sure.” Cian only increased the pressure. “If you lie, I’ll find out. And then I’ll begin to cut this piece of you off, one inch at a time.”
“She sent only me.” He was weeping now, tears and snot running down his face. “Only me.”
Cian eased the pressure a few fractions. “Why?”
The only answer was raw, rough gasps, and Cian tightened the vise of his fingers again. “Why?”
“One could slip through easily, unnoticed. Un... unremarked.”
“The logic of that has spared you, at least for the moment, from becoming a eunuch.” Cian strolled over, got himself a chair. After placing it in front of the prisoner, he straddled it. And spoke in conversational tones even as the man whimpered. “Now, this is better, isn’t it? Civilized. When we’re done here, we’ll see to those injuries.”
“I want water.”
“I’m sure you do. We’ll get you some—after. So for now, let’s talk a bit about Lilith.”
It took thirty minutes—and two more sessions of pain—before he was satisfied he knew all the man could tell him. Cian got to his feet again.
The would-be assassin was weeping uncontrollably now. Perhaps from the pain, Cian thought. Perhaps from the belief it was ended.
“What were you before she took you?”
“A teacher.”
“Did you have a wife, a family?”
“They were no use but food. I was poor and weak, but the queen saw more in me. She gave me strength and purpose. And when she slaughters you, and these... ants who crawl with you, I’ll be rewarded. I’ll have a fine house, and women of my choosing, wealth and power.”
“Promised you all that, did she?”
“That and more. You said I could have water.”
“Yes, I did. Let me explain something to you about Lilith.” He moved behind the man, whose name he’d never asked, and spoke quietly in his ear. “She lies. And so do I.”
He clamped his hands on the man’s head and in one fast move, broke his neck.
“What have you done?” Shocked to the pit of her belly, Moira rushed forward. “What have you done?”
“What needed doing. She sent only one—this time. If it upsets your sensibilities, you might want to have your guards take that out of here before I brief you.”