Beneath the Forsaken City - C. E. Laureano Page 0,16

pale rather than bleached yellow like that of the other warriors, barely reached his shoulders, brushing a blue wool cloak fastened with an intricately wrought silver pin. The pommel of a sword peeked from beneath the cloak.

The man jerked his head to the warriors in dismissal and watched Conor until the door shut behind them.

“You heal fast,” he said in Norin. “A few days ago, you would not have been able to make the journey here.”

Conor said nothing. Unlike the other Sofarende he had come across, this man was completely unafraid of him. The commander retrieved a bench from the platform and set it near Conor. His massive frame made it look as if it were sized for a child. He leaned forward, his forearms braced on his knees.

“My name is Haldor the Brave. To distinguish me from my father, Haldor the Fierce.”

Still Conor said nothing. He met the man’s gaze, determined to show neither fear nor curiosity.

“I could attempt to coax information from you, but you have already shown you can endure pain. So I find myself in a quandary. You are plainly a warrior. Warriors are of no use to me. I give you a tool, you try to kill your guards. Yet you intrigue me.”

Conor noted the carefully chosen wording, the soft intonation. Haldor was no barbarian. He was an educated man, a thinking man. He would not fall prey to fear and superstition like his warriors.

“Have you nothing to say?”

Conor stared at him blankly.

“Very well. Just listen then. I understand you were asking about a woman.”

Conor couldn’t keep the flicker of alarm from his expression. He couldn’t recall having mentioned Aine, but who knew what he had uttered while in the throes of fever?

“Ah, I see I have gotten your attention. In answer to the question you will not ask me, I do not have her. But I could find out if another settlement does.”

Conor moistened his cracked lips, contemplating his answer. “In return for what?”

“I want to learn of your people. Your language, your religion, your magic.”

“I know nothing of magic.”

“I do not believe you. But let us assume I do. My Gwynn slave tells me the Fíréin are something of legend. I take a particular interest in legend.”

He only wants to know what kind of threat he might face should he invade Seare. To come out and deny him would only earn Conor a quick death. He tried to turn the conversation another way.

“Why the interest in magic? Your men seem to fear it. Is that why you want to know? To instill the respect that your men lack?”

Haldor merely cocked his head. “What makes you say that?”

“They disobeyed your orders by trying to kill me.”

The Sofarende leader let out a booming laugh. “Do not think because you understand our language that you understand our ways. I was not telling them to unhand you. You killed two of my best men. I needed to know if your life was worth two of theirs.”

“Is it?”

The amusement left Haldor’s expression, and his eyes turned hard. “We will see.” He stood and called to the guards, “Eluf, Ove!” The door opened immediately, and the guards stepped inside. “Take him back now. We’re finished.”

The guards untied the rope from the bench and jerked Conor to his feet, but they kept his hands bound behind his back. He complied, his face impassive.

“I will give you until this time tomorrow to consider my offer. If you still refuse, you will be executed.”

Conor struggled not to show the thrill of fear the words sent through him. If the choice was between betraying his homeland or his own death, he knew which one he should choose. But it was not only his life at stake here. Eluf shoved him toward the door. Before he could step through it, Haldor called after him, “Not all Sofarende are as enlightened as I am, Conor. Before you make your decision, you might ask Eluf what the others would do with a female captive.”

Conor jerked his eyes to his guard, who grinned suggestively. Haldor nodded, his point made. “Tomorrow. I hope for the sake of your woman you make the right decision.”

The walk back to Conor’s prison went more easily, perhaps because his mind was fixed on Haldor’s ultimatum and not the trembling in his legs. He barely noticed the shoves Eluf aimed at his back to unbalance him as he calculated the likelihood of Aine’s survival. If she were alive and in Sofarende custody, he