REAPERS - Book Two: The Hunger and the Sickness

13

"It has come to the Blind Prophet's attention that you have Reaper captives in these halls."

Tecneli knew the speaker well. It was Phus, who had also been present at the attack on the human fort but had departed before the Reapers retook the garrison. The only survivor, as far as Tecneli knew. The emissary wore black robes and had the look of a towering skeleton, with his nose shorn from his tusked skull and not a shred of fat on his bones. Speaking to Tecneli and the other administrators of the Painworks from the center of a domed room, Phus went on with his case: "It was not with pleasure that I traversed the great sands to come here and speak on this matter. I had important duties in the campaign against mankind but upon the news that Reaper captives had been brought to this place, the Prophet asked that I change course and come to Thajh in haste. I am to take these human aggressors off your hands and put them to justice as decreed by Xul."

Set-Satemi sat highest in the chamber. This official was the main architect of the Painworks and oversaw all that occurred in its diabolical halls. His title could be translated into Man as 'The Soother'—a moniker clearly borne from irony. He was gaunt and cold and far from soothing. His charcoal eyes burned with fierce intelligence. Large needles jutted from set-Satemi's bare skull and his neck had been elongated by many rings. He wore needles of bone on his fingertips with which to cut and peel and pry at delicate nerves and tissues. The chief painsmith's station among his people could be compared to mankind's greatest surgeons. "Only one Reaper remains alive and we cannot part with him," the Soother said to Phus. "He is integral to our research. We have plenty other humans in our stables, but few have the value of this one. Our superiors mandate that enemy captives, particularly officers and those called Reapers, are to be interrogated until they have divulged all they hold in their skulls—and we are certain this man has locked away many secrets not yet pried from his mind. Thus far all we have been capable of getting from him are jokes and insults. There is much work yet to be done before the man will break. Prophet Ixhalal is pious and revered by us all, but he does not decide our policy. Be patient, Phus. When we are done with the Reaper and have milked him of his memories, perhaps then we can relinquish him to your control."

Phus narrowed his black eyes. "These are not only orders from the Blind Prophet. Xul himself spoke to the scion in holy communion. This is our god's wish by his very mouth. It is unwise to deny your maker."

"We have heard your plea," said set-Satemi with a note of finality. "We will convene later with our final verdict." He bit his wrist to signal an end to the session and the others followed suit.

Phus stood and gathered his robes and stormed out of the room. As he was escorted back to his incommodious chambers he began to plot his actions should he be denied his request to have the Reaper handed over to him. Of course the Blind Prophet had not sent him here for the Prophet was already dead at the hands of the humans. Phus had concealed this knowledge so that he might exploit Ixhalal's name and influence for his own ends. There was a chance the captive Reaper was aware of the Prophet's demise and so he had to be silenced. Phus briefly met with the Reaper captives before the Battle of Fort Nothing and participated in their interrogation about the enemy bastion. But it wasn't until after the Blind Prophet's severed head was later discovered that Phus realized the prisoners might know the truth about his death. He then decided he must follow Tecneli's caravan, which had by then already departed, to Thajh to find out for sure. Phus had taken a risk coming here. It seemed the captive had said nothing and perhaps he truly knew nothing—but Phus could not take that chance. The matter was clear: the Reaper must die, and soon.

— • —

Tusk was a living study in how much a man could be pushed and not die. The sandmen hung him on hooked chains and injected him with venoms and carved and needled him with all manner of wicked tools. He had been driven by their ministrations to a certain kind of numbness and this did not please his keepers for it meant their efforts were diminishing. The nerves had their limits and at a point the pain became something else. At the heights of torture a man's mind could turn in on itself and the body suffered less somehow.