Last was the girl. She opened her eyes when he stepped inside, but she showed no recognition, nor any signs of fear. Concussion, he figured. She probably didn’t know the difference between him and the King of Ker.
“To your feet,” he said. “I’d hate to strike you again.”
He grabbed her wrists and held them tight as he escorted her down the stairs. Once she was tied to another chair, he kicked Brug to see how he was faring.
“Damn it,” Brug muttered, his eyes suddenly focusing. “What was that for?”
He saw Ghost standing over him, and then he tried to reach for his weapons. Instead, Ghost slammed his heel onto his throat and pushed him back.
“I’d recommend you behave,” he said, the tip of his sword dangling before an eye. “Otherwise I might just let go.”
Brug ground his teeth, glanced about, then nodded. Ghost bound his hands and feet and then dumped him on the floor beside the others.
“Well, that was disappointingly easy,” Ghost said, sheathing his swords. “I hope the Watcher proves more challenging than you four.”
Stern said something, but his voice was too weak to hear. Ghost stepped closer and leaned down.
“You’ll find out when he kills you,” Stern said, then made a sound like the cross of a cough and a laugh. Ghost slapped the side of his face, the gesture almost playful.
“At least you put up a fight,” he said. “So I’ll forgive your frightened boasting. Stay still, and try not to let your grip slip. You might know something useful to me, and I’d hate to lose it because you can’t keep your guts from squeezing through your fingers.”
The priestess seemed to be getting her bearings, but Tarlak was still clearly out. Ghost reached into a pocket and pulled out some smelling salts. Shoving them under the wizard’s nose, he held his head by his hair and waited. After a few sniffs his eyelids began to flutter, and then he jolted as if splashed by a bucket of water.
“Whmmph,” he said.
“Welcome back,” Ghost said, smacking his shoulder. “Forgive the gag. I know how dangerous your kind is with a few silly words. I may take it out, but only for a moment, and only when my swords are at your throat. Understand?”
A soft gasp came from his right. It seemed like the priestess had finally come to her senses.
“Senke!” she gasped.
Senke?
He followed her gaze to the wounded man against the wall. A pet name, perhaps? Or maybe Bill had been wrong about the name?
“He put up a better fight than the rest of you,” Ghost said.
“Don’t say nothing, Delysia,” Brug muttered. “Just bite your tongue and say nothing.”
“I don’t think I’d listen to him,” Ghost said, placing the name to her face. He’d found with many people he interrogated, it made them that much more compliant when he called them by their name.
“Please, I can help him!” She squirmed against her bonds. “He’s dying!”
“If he’s dying, he’s doing a poor job of it.” He watched her struggle to see if his ropes would hold. Satisfied, he took her chin in a giant hand and forced her gaze to his. “But if you want untied, you’ll have to talk. That’s all, little girl, just talk. No sin in that, right?”
“What do you want?” she asked.
“Don’t!” Brug shouted. Ghost turned on him, and this time his kick was lower, and harder. Brug howled like an animal, and his face turned a beet red.
“Enough out of you,” he said. “You’re beaten, and at my mercy. Lies and silence get you pain, only pain. Not honor. Not sacrifice. No nobility. Just pain.”
Tarlak mumbled something into his gag. Ghost debated, but then left him alone. He’d go to the wizard only if the others proved uncooperative. So far, this Delysia appeared the most compliant. He knelt before her, all teeth and smiles.
“Senke’s bleeding over there,” he said, dropping his voice lower. She went to look, but his eyes held her. He knew he could do that, had so many times before. He felt like a snake charmer, controlling them by the sheer ferocity of his personality. “You can feel it, his pain washing over you like a heat. You’re a priestess, so you could help him, tend his wounds. How badly you must wish to go to him. Such sweet compassion.”
He shifted behind her, pressing a painted cheek against hers as they both looked to where Senke lay.
“But is it just compassion? I don’t think it is. I think it’s fear. I smell the stink on you. It’s rising in your chest, crawling upward like a beast. You don’t want to watch him die, yet that’s what you are doing. Life is draining away before you, and all you can do is sit here. Struggling against your ropes won’t seal the hole in his gut, Delysia. Only one thing will, and that is talking to me. Tell me the truth, and only the truth. Can you do that, pretty girl? Can you do that for Senke?”
She bit her lower lip. Tears ran down her face.
“Yes,” she said at last. Brug sighed. By the wall, Senke chuckled. Tarlak let out another mrmph into his gag.
“Good lass. It’s a simple question, really. I have a contract to find the Watcher, and your group knows of him. Tell me, where can I find him?”
“I don’t know,” she said. She stared into his eyes, and he realized she wanted him to know she didn’t lie. “He’s only stayed here twice. Where he goes when he leaves…please, I don’t know. None of us do.”
Ghost frowned.
“Tell me his name, then. He must have a name.”
Tears ran down her face. She looked to Senke, but Ghost grabbed her jaw and forced her back to him.
“Haern,” she said. “He calls himself Haern.”
“Last name? First?”
“Just Haern.”
Possibilities ran through Ghost’s head, and he didn’t like any of them. A single, plain name would be marginal help at best in tracking him down. Still, it was better than nothing, which is what he’d been going on before. But mostly, he didn’t want a name. He wanted the man in person.
“Will he be coming back here?”
She hesitated, just a second, but Ghost saw it and smiled.
“No lies,” he said. “That just gives pain, remember?”
“I don’t know,” she said at last. “But I think he will. Please, can I help him now? He’s almost gone.”
“Of course my dear.”
He untied her wrists and then gestured for her to go. She ran to Senke’s side and knelt. He whispered something to her, and he heard her begin to cry. Ideas raced through Ghost’s head as he watched out of the corner of his eye. If this Haern were coming back, then he had to keep them all here until he did, otherwise they might find a way to warn him. Of course, it could be days until he showed, or worse, this Haern might spot the ambush through a window, or sense it through a lack of common activity. Troubling. He’d have to dump them in one of the rooms, preferably without a window. Once done, then he might…
And that was when the door opened, and in stepped the Watcher.
20
H aern’s elbow still ached like the Abyss, but at least it’d stopped bleeding. He felt naked without his swords, so he kept his head down and shambled along as if he were drunk. Given the horror of the previous night, he knew he was far from the only one that staggered along the road. Many had buried their grief in alcohol. His nerves rose as he hurried down the Crimson, but he reminded himself it was safer in the day than at night. Sure, some of the young cutpurses might try to swipe his coin, but he had nothing to steal.
When he reached the Eschaton’s building he put his hand on the door and closed his eyes. Returning here meant many things, and he wasn’t sure if he was prepared for the implications. Could this place become a home to him? Could he accept the companionship of Senke, even knowing his presence was danger? Deep in his heart, he knew he desired nothing else. It was his head that kept getting in the way. But sometimes you needed to think like that to protect others. To Haern, the self had never mattered more than those he cared for. He’d learned that lesson from watching his teacher, Robert, sacrifice his life to protect him.