writ of execution years ago,” Corajidin drawled. He shook his head, his expression sad. “But the government of the time was too soft. I sent assassins myself, but they never returned. The Sēq Scholars were too lenient on you. It was your duty to die serving your people, not to take what you had learned to make your own fortune. Time has caught up with you.”
“Face facts.” Kasraman’s mellow voice was pitched to carry. “You were Sēq once. No doubt you’ve tried to escape and failed. You’ve tried your precious Possibility Tree? Surely you’ve calculated there’s no escape?”
“Don’t you have some witchery to make him talk?” Armal asked Kasraman. The man-mountain looked to the door nervously. “We don’t have much—”
“My talents aren’t meant to be discussed openly, Armal.” Kasraman’s smile was thin, the tips of his fangs showing as he held up a hand for silence. “Besides, the salt-forged steel prohibits me as much as him from anything esoteric. And I’d not want to see his shackles removed while he lived. It wouldn’t end well for any of us, would it, Indris?”
Indris bared his fangs in a smile. “That I promise you.”
“Getting nowhere,” Thufan grated. He turned to Corajidin. “We need to carry out his sentence and—”
“Sentence?” Indris stepped away from the wall. Thufan was closest. Perhaps he could snap the old man’s little chicken neck before the others stopped him. He would need to kill Corajidin next. He doubted he would be able to take a third in his current state. He flexed his fingers. “Every prisoner is entitled to a trial—”
Corajidin pointed a shaking finger. “You are a traitor to the Asrahn and—”
“Step away, Thufan, if you want to live,” Belamandris suggested. “Our friend here is almost within reach. Not the best place for you.”
Thufan blanched, then stepped back. He looked at Indris with a wary eye. Indris shot Belamandris an insincere smile in thanks.
“I’m a mercenary.” Indris struggled with his chains. “Our codes of justice—”
“If we took him elsewhere, could you torture the information out of him?” Kasraman asked Thufan.
“Maybe,” the little man grunted. “Doubtful. He’s trained by the Sēq. They don’t break easily.”
“There are too many watching eyes to move him,” Belamandris offered. His hand dropped to the hilt of his amenesqa. “If you’re not going to question him, at least let the man fight for his life.”
“He’ll kill you stone dead.” Kasraman’s expression was wry. Belamandris snorted.
“I can’t tell you what I don’t know,” Indris lied through clenched teeth. He strained against his shackles. “Think about this. If you kill me—”
“If he will not tell us where Far-ad-din is, there is no point in delaying any further. Armal?” Corajidin waved his hand in Indris’s direction.
The big man’s expression was resolved as he came to stand before Indris. His fist a blur, he cuffed Indris on the side of the head so hard he was slammed back against the wall, dazed. Armal placed his massive hands around Indris’s throat. Squeezed. “I’m sorry I can’t do this the proper way.”
In his weakened state, Indris could do little against Armal’s strength. He tried to knee the man, to no effect. Weakened from the salt-forged steel, he could not strike back effectively. Each of Indris’s blows fell on layers of corded muscle, which felt like stone. He tried to form a canto in his head, but his thoughts withered in an airless haze.
Darkness had begun to descend when the door crashed open. Armal released his grip and spun to stand beside his father. Indris, barely aware of what was happening, collapsed to his knees, gasping for air. He looked up from beneath dirty curls.
The Iphyri stamped their hooves, nostrils wide. Indris could see the light glistening in their eyes, like pools of white around wet brown stones. The hafts of their axes groaned in their grips. Sweat glistened on their skin, black, sorrel, and roan. They snorted. Backed into the room on iron-shod hooves. The smell of horse was heavy in the air.
Facing them were a dozen or so Tau-se in the blue-and-gold armor of the Näsarat Lion Guard. Faces impassive, manes braided with fortune-coins, the lion men glanced about the room impassively. Their hands were never far from the hilts of their khopesh. Indris had seen Tau-se fight. Such were their reflexes he knew the Lion Guard were not disadvantaged. If the Tau-se drew their sickle-bladed swords, it would be a massacre.
From between the Lion Guard stepped two men. The first was Nehrun, Ariskander’s heir, eyes circled by