Northbound Pilgrimage II

Chapter XXXIX - Who Knows

"Sleep well?"

A hushed female voice echoed through Bishop's ears. It seemed to be mocking him.

He had no idea what was going on. He was lying on some cold wooden floor. He felt the distinct scratch of ropes on his wrists and he couldn't move his legs apart either – it was pretty clear that those were restrained too. There was a blindfold over his eyes and all he could smell and taste was still that strange strong alchemical smell. It was like burnt wood and fire salts or something. It was making him sick.

He tried to hold it in, but he had to cough from the smell invading his senses. He started to gag and heave almost instantly and he had to exert a lot of effort and self-control not to throw up right then. The hangover certainly wasn't helping.

When his breathing calmed down a little bit and he got more used to the aftertaste of that strange scent, he started to perceive a bit more of his environment at last. He could definitely smell wet moldered wood and he could also feel the dampness below his bare skin. He was still dressed only in trousers and boots, just like he remembered when he was... ambushed.

How did he not hear anything? The wind was strong and it would be easy to miss any sound, but... still... the rustle of leaves was nothing like someone sneaking close enough to appear right at his back. He was good at this, he could always feel it when someone tried to get the jump on him. This was disturbing.

And who the fuck would want anything with him? Was this one of Mercer's plots? Nobody even knew where they were in the wilderness and he would have surely noticed something if they were followed, wouldn't he? Maybe Saadia and Lydia were followed though.

Or maybe you should just get up from the fucking floor and find out, idiot.

He shifted his arms that were tied behind his back uncomfortably and he used them to hoist himself up into a sitting position at least. It was easier to breathe that way and he didn't like to be lying helplessly in front of an obvious enemy. Not that sitting on the ground dumbly was making him feel any less vulnerable in his tied up state.

"Who are you?" he growled. His voice was all hoarse. He could still feel the weird burning in his throat after that strange alchemical taste.

"Someone whose attention you have caught," the woman chuckled. Her voice was oddly muffled, but it was clear enough to make out. He wasn't sure how that particular observation could be useful for him.

Her answer had told him nothing. He didn't know who she was, where he was, why he was there and how long he had been unconscious. Were Aeyrin and the others looking for him already? Or... were they even alright? Whoever took him here was silent enough to catch Bishop off guard – they could have easily done something to the rest of them.

Fuck, he had so many questions.

"Why?"

It was the only thing that he could actually say. He had no idea where to even begin. If this had been someone from Mercer, he would have likely been screaming in pain already, right? He would also have been much more securely subdued.

He might be even able to get out of the ropes in time, but... that woman was right there. She might kill him if he tried. He still had no idea what she wanted.

"Because of what you've done, of course," she chuckled briefly.

A shiver ran down his spine at her words. What did she mean? 'What he's done'? What has he done?

Well... he's done a lot. A lot of fucking shitty things. Practically anyone could have held a grudge. But... people didn't usually target a single bandit. They tended to take revenge on the entire clan if they could. Not that they would have ever managed.