she was so young. Always, he wondered if she still did.
And this woman had no tears left. Wherever she had come from bore the stains of her tears, bled out from her body. Violently, he concluded, if the bruises on her face were any indication. He slid down to one knee before her, as he might a puppy, and strained to look into her face, to convey to her that all would be well, that the places of law were havens safe from violence and from barbarism, that she would have all the time she needed to find her tears again.
Lector Annis did not share the same sentiment.
‘Please,’ he uttered, his voice carrying with an echo usually reserved for invocations. He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers to suggest that he did not make requests.
‘I was …’ she squeaked at first through a voice that crawled timidly from her throat. ‘I was a merchant. A spice merchant from Muraska, coming to Cier’Djaal. We were passing through the Buradan two months ago.’
‘This is where she begins to get interesting,’ the Cragsman said, his grin growing.
‘Silence, please,’ Bralston snapped.
‘We were … we were attacked,’ she continued, her breath growing short. ‘Black boats swept over the sea, rowed by purple women clad in black armour. They boarded, drew swords, killed the men, killed everyone but me.’ Her stare was distant as her mind drifted back over the sea. ‘We were … I was taken with the cargo.
‘There was an island. I don’t remember where. There were scaly green men unloading the boats while the purple women whipped them. Those that fell dead and bloodied, they were … they were fed to …’
Her face began to twitch, the agony and fear straining to escape through a face that had hardened to them. Bralston saw her hands shake, fingers dig into her ripped skirt as though she sought to dig into herself and vanish from the narrowed gazes locked upon her.
She’s terrified, the Librarian thought, clearly. Do something. Postpone this inquisition. You’re sworn to uphold the law, not be a callous and cruel piece of—
‘The important part, please,’ Lector Annis muttered, his breath laced with impatient heat.
‘I was taken to the back of a cavern,’ the woman continued, visibly trying to harden herself to both the memory and the Lector. ‘There were two other women there. One was … tired. I couldn’t stop crying, but she never even looked up. We were both taken to a bed where a man came out, tall and purple, wearing a crown of thorns upon his head with red stones affixed to it. He laid me down … I … He did …’
Her eyes began to quiver, the pain finally too much to conceal. Despite the Lector’s deliberately loud and exasperated sigh, she chewed her lower lip until blood began to form behind her teeth. Having failed to fold in on herself, having failed to dig into herself, she began to tremble herself to pieces.
Bralston lowered himself, staring into her eyes as much as he could. He raised a hand, but thought better of it, not daring to touch such a fragile creature for fear she might break. Instead, he spoke softly, his voice barely above a whisper.
As he had spoken to Anacha, when she had trembled under his grasp, when she had shed tears into his lap.
‘Tell us only what we need,’ he said gently. ‘Leave the pain behind for now. We don’t need it. What we need’ – he leaned closer to her, his voice going lower – ‘is to stop this man.’
The woman looked up at him and he saw the tears. In other circumstances, he might have offered a smile, an embrace for her. For now, he returned her resolute nod with one of his own.
‘When the other woman wouldn’t scream anymore,’ the female continued, ‘when she wouldn’t cry, the man burned her.’ She winced. ‘Alive.’ She paused to wipe away tears. ‘I’d seen magic before, seen wizards use it. But they always were weak afterward, drained. This man …’
‘Was not,’ the Lector finished for her. ‘She witnessed several similar instances from this man and three others on the island. None of them so much as broke into a sweat when they used the gift.’
And this couldn’t have been sent in a letter? Discussed in private? Bralston felt his ire boil in his throat. We had to drag this poor thing here to relive this? He rose and opened his mouth to voice