Throughout her investigation, her Wicked Uncle remained a silent audience, making no more comments. Perhaps he truly was as powerless as he seemed, and she had been given a great gift of chance. An opportunity to deal with him without any difficulty at all, and finally weaken the miscasting that robbed her of her physical strength.
All she had to do was kill a hateful, horrible, and completely helpless man.
"How long have you been here?" she asked at last, because there was no point ignoring a source of information just because he gave her the shudders.
"A month or so. There are periods of unconsciousness, so I can’t be more exact."
"Have you met whoever is behind this? Or remember how you arrived here?"
"No. I’ve watched these others be brought in, however, including yourself. Around every five days or so. I broke free, the first time I woke, before the…infestation was complete. From that I can tell you that too much damage to the vines will bring the guards, and the guards are extremely magic-resistant, though not quite so fast as I was then. I made it all the way to the front entrance that time, and bounced most impressively off the shield about this place. The vines themselves draw off Efera, and I presume keep humans unconscious, since these others haven’t woken. That doesn’t quite work on me."
"Guards?"
"Some kind of glasswork construct. Numerous. Difficult to kill."
Rennyn glanced at the blue-green shards she’d pulled from her feet, and then finally, inevitably, she turned back to the monster pinned to the wall.
The family resemblance was strong. The same colouring, the same mild curl to his hair as her father and brother, and a similar shape to his face. Even at such an extreme, he seemed to be enjoying her predicament. She met his gaze, refusing to flinch away from it again. He had mishandled her, captured her, tried to chain her soul, had put his teeth in her throat, and then nearly killed her. But she had survived it all.
"You’re being very obliging," she said at last. "But if you imagine I’ll release you, prepare for disappointment."
"No?" Prince Helecho didn’t look perturbed, perhaps simply didn’t believe her. "And yet I heard you were liable to collapse after even a little casting. Do you think you can bring the shield about this place down? I had trouble even detecting the pattern of the thing, at first, though I’ve had plenty of time to make a study of it since. What will you do when the need to rest overwhelms you? Even now you’ve stood in place for too long."
Rennyn moved, not bothering to glance down to see the cause of the faint tension and release, though noting that the roots did not hurt until you pulled them away. She looked instead at the ceiling. Was there a shield there? There was certainly something, but it was hard to distinguish it from the hum of the vines. And then she shook her head, not denying her Wicked Uncle’s point, but emphasising the only decision she could make.
"You’re a killer. A true monster. I won’t exchange my life for the lives of however many people you might attack in the future. By any measure of common good sense, I should cut your throat now."
He laughed. It was a tired sound, but held a note of genuine amusement. "You won’t do that."
"No," she agreed. "Not being a killer—at least not of someone so defenceless. But nor am I going to release you."
"Giving up? How dull."
Rennyn had expected desperate anger, even pleading, but he seemed almost unmoved, studying her flatly. She felt that his gaze dwelt on her throat, on the scar he had left there, but she refused to allow herself to hide it.
"Here is a question for you, then," he said at last. "What is the goal of this place? Are all these humans in the walls still people, or just hanging sacks of meat? How many more will it take? And who might join you, beneath the leaves?"
The strongest of mages. Would Sebastian’s distance protect him? And what of the Sentene mages, certainly within reach at Aurai’s Rest? Sukata and Sarana, Lieutenant Meniar: were any of them as strong as those already taken?
But that did not alter the simple fact that exchanging one threat for another was not a solution. Whatever she did, it could not involve leaving her Wicked Uncle free to kill.
Without his help, however, escape was unlikely if there really was a shield about the whole of the building. She did not currently have the strength to overcome one by sheer force, and even if she could, she would almost certainly collapse immediately after bringing it down.
"Do you still have my focus?"
"Feel free to search me."
Rennyn chose not to notice the smirk, answering her own question by seeking the echo that would betray the near presence of her focus. Nothing. But it could be in the building, reachable without needing to pass through this supposed shield. Once she had it…well, she could be truly destructive, perhaps enough to at least ensure that this place could steal no more mages. That would mean sacrificing the current captives…would it be better to attempt rescue? Pulling one of them off the wall without killing them—without alerting the guards—might be the larger challenge.
Her other option was to learn as much as she could before she was pinned to a wall, and then hope that she could somehow be found, and that whatever those vines were doing to the captive mages really could be reversed. Illidian would not spare a moment in searching, of course, and she could not let herself think about how he would be feeling now, about the poor timing of their last conversation.
She gazed around at leaf litter and vine, pushing herself past unpleasant obstacles, searching for practical measures, a way to maximise her chances. Then she crossed to where she had originally fallen, and picked up the largest piece of glass.
"What’s this?" her Wicked Uncle asked. "Have you found some dramatic and unexpected solution?"
"You could say that", Rennyn replied, advancing on him. "I’m going to take out your teeth."
Chapter Twenty-Three
For the first time in her experience of him, Rennyn’s Wicked Uncle looked disconcerted, his gaze fixing on the glass in her hand. But then an eyebrow quirked, and his features relaxed as he decided she could not mean her words in their most literal sense. The mocking expression he produced after that was deliberately assembled, an assumption of unassailable calm entirely familiar to Rennyn. He shared one of her weaknesses: pride.
"You think you can control me?" he said. "Well, I suppose you’ve already demonstrated your taste for very obedient men."
Ignoring this jab, Rennyn stopped in the nearest beam of sunlight and held up the piece of blood-smeared glass so that it glittered. The power-sapping vines were a factor she could not compensate for, only hope that they would not weaken the casting of someone they weren’t actually attached to.
"You’re not going to give me the option to choose death over chains?"
Rennyn did not lower the piece of glass, turning it to find the angle that would capture the most light.
"Those are the only two options," she said. "I can’t leave the problem of you for someone else to deal with. Though if death really is your preference, let me know now before I waste energy casting."
"And then collapse into a self-righteous heap?"
"I’ll have to take that chance. If I manage to stay awake, what will I need to do to get you off that wall?"
This time his smile was cold, and not at all pleased. "After you’ve served me revenge flavoured with hypocrisy and collected another dog at your heel playing protector?"
She had found the brightest point of sunlight, and held the piece of glass motionless as she surveyed her distant uncle. "I’m defanging you, not making you into a pet. What you tried with me—let alone the situation I’m in with the Kellian—are nothing I wish to repeat. Your choice is to be killed, or to never kill. Which is it?"