I had to get a room in the “young apprentice” building in that town. I appreciated the adults who kept an eye on us, making sure we had food and such, but the other kids didn’t always know how to seal up food inside jars and things to keep the roach population at a minimum. Of course, I’d trade a room infested with roaches and other bugs any day over this priest-infested Netherhell-hole.
Unfortunately, if she couldn’t figure out how to communicate with the mages back at the Vortex via this illusionary bug, she’d find herself quite dead inside a real Netherhell soon.
The sound of a key in the lock gave her a few seconds of warning. Tossing the roach onto the corner of the cot, where it would hopefully pass unnoticed, she quickly shifted into an approximation of the pose Elcarei had last seen her in, with her hands on her thighs and her gaze unfocused across the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched the door open, admitting an apprentice with a cup in one hand and a bowl in the other; the handle of a spoon and a bit of steam rose above the rim of the bowl. She hadn’t interacted much with the lattermost male, but she thought his name might be Kurt or something like that.
Behind him entered Archbishop Elcarei, and behind him was the foreign mage, Torven. Stepping up to her, Elcarei leaned over and touched her collar; the other touches had been given by the men holding her arms, outside her field of view. This time, she saw it coming. “When we are done questioning you, you will take this bowl and eat the food in it, drink water to keep yourself hydrated, use the refresher and the sink to ensure you stay clean and healthy, and when you are tired, you will sleep in this bed. You will drink a few sips of the water now, then you will answer our questions.”
The apprentice priest—not the one who had been violating that one woman mage, thankfully—held out the cup. Rexei felt her arm moving before she could even think of doing so deliberately. The moment she instinctively tried to resist, testing the horrible theory racing through her thoughts . . . the pain came back in a prickle that forced her fingers to open, then close around the curve of the ceramic cup. That same spell-command forced her to bring the goblet to her lips and drink.
One, two, three . . . she tried for a fourth sip to stretch out the command and stall for time, but the spell apparently considered that more than the commanded “few” sips and stopped her. Giving up, she held on to the cup and waited. At least I can think . . . and the roach is now repaired. Someone’s bound to see me when the mages Alonnen set to watching the scryings ’round the clock see a new set of images in the mirror in his office. The roach is even pointed the right way, more or less; I’m sure I’m in its field of vision . . .
“You are the new Guild Master of the so-called Holy Guild, is this correct?” Elcarei drawled.
Her mouth opened, words forcing their way out of her. She could delay them for a few seconds, but only a few. “That is correct.”
“And your name is Rexei Longshanks?”
“It is,” she admitted. Again, a slight delay before she was forced to speak the truth. Maybe I can adjust what I say—keeping it the truth but only the portion of the truth I want them to know?
“Do you really think your strumpet of a Goddess will ever be able to supplant the rightful place of Mekha in this world?” Elcarei sneered.
“No,” Rexei managed to say. Elcarei’s brows lifted, a look of surprise and delight in those brown eyes. The spell forced her to clarify that no, because without clarification, it could not be true. But she was able to say it in her own way. “Guildra is not a strumpet, and there is no need for Her to strive to supplant the False God in the future, because She has already done so.”
“Bastard!” Elcarei’s hand lashed out, backhanding Rexei. Her body swayed and her cheek throbbed, but the pain wasn’t too bad. It helped that the Aian mage, Torven, snatched at the archbishop’s wrist.
“Do not hurt the sacrifice!” he ordered sternly. “The more powerful a demon is, the more they will want to wreck their prey themselves. That sort of bloodlust can be useful during the binding process. Control your own bloodlust, Archbishop Elcarei.”
A shiver swept over Rexei’s skin. Resisting the urge to rub her arms, she hoped they didn’t notice the goose-prickles. It’s true, they’re going to kill me just to summon a demon. Guildra, I wish I knew how to use my priestly strengths to thwart them. Alonnen and I were waiting for the priests among the other Guardians to pass along what they knew or could find.
“Ask your questions. Learn what you need to know. And be grateful the boy is so easily compelled that he tells you the full truth. Even if it isn’t a truth you want to hear,” Torven added, staring down the slightly older man.
Elcarei stared back, then let out a heavy breath and lowered his arm. Torven released his wrist. “Be glad I am the one doing this interrogation. If Archbishop Gafford were doing it, the boy would be bleeding in seven spots by now.”
“The archbishop has his own assignment. Stick to yours, as we planned last night.”
Planned last night? Planned what? Were the other cockroaches able to spy on them last night, while Alonnen and I were—?
“Tell me about Master Tall,” Elcarei ordered her.
The collar prodded her into speaking, but the pain was weak. Unfocused. Rexei, therefore, said the first thing on her mind. “Master Tall is short. Or at least average in height.”
She fell silent the moment the compulsion to reply ended. Elcarei covered his forehead with one hand, the other bracing his elbow. Dragging his palm down to his mouth, he stared down at her, in her coat, cap, trousers, and boots. One finger tapped the side of his cheek, then he pulled his arm down across his chest. “Is Master Tall the Guild Master of the Mages Guild?”
“I . . . don’t know.” Rexei blinked up at him, feeling a tingle wash through her mind, almost as if the inside of her skull itched. She honestly didn’t know, and she didn’t like the way her answer made the archbishop scowl.
Elcarei glared at her and growled under his breath. “Gods-be-damned amnesia spells . . . You’re lucky I thought of an alternate way to ask. Describe the location or locations you have visited in the last week.”
“Buildings made out of stone, wood, plaster, and tile. Streets and roads covered in snow or damp with winter rains . . .” Outwardly, she strove to give him a blank look. Inwardly, she felt a twinge of fear. The oath I swore . . . I think it made me forget something important, just now. Something very, very important. Guildra, what did I just forget?
He almost lunged forward and slapped her. Checking himself at the last minute just as Torven caught his wrist again, Elcarei dragged in a deep breath. Composing himself, he tried again. “Each time you left the city in the last two weeks, which road or roads did you take?”
“The north and east ones,” she said. Again, her head felt like it was itching deep under her scalp. Rexei felt another surge of fear.
“Were you on foot, or did you take a vehicle of some sort, and if so, what kind?”
“A . . . a motorhorse . . . and a motorcart . . .” Since she hadn’t been forbidden from moving her arms, she lifted the one not holding the cup and scratched, dislodging the cap perched on her short, dark locks. She wanted to unbutton her coat, too, since she was now growing a bit warm down here, out of the cold, damp winter air.
“How far would you say you traveled each time, in terms of either distance or time?”