Maji Born

03 - In Irons

He was in for it now. The guards had dumped him in a cell well below the castle in only trousers, they had taken everything. He felt exposed, though there was only a couple of rats to witness his shame. Devarak glanced up at the manacles belting him to the stone wall, his feet only just touched the stone, and for once he was happy for his height. 

 A smaller man would have been strained standing in such a way. His legs and arms stung with lashes which were only just now beginning to crust over. The guards had brought him to the King, who had instructed his men to interrogate him. He had held his tongue, he was loyal to his cause not just the money.

The Ardaer stone had been returned to the case, and the King had ordered extra security. Devarak had spent over four hours being whipped, but he had kept his head, stayed silent, and managed to stay more or less conscious. Now his vision slid in and out of focus. He was exhausted mentally and physically and he had lost a lot of blood. The King had postponed his execution in favour of finding out the name and whereabouts of his buyer.

Devarak's eyelids slid shut, but immediately snapped open again at the sound of grated bars swinging open.

"I can walk, thank you very much." A voice said from the other side of the hall. Devarak squinted, his normally superb sight slightly fractured by sweat and fatigue. A luminescent girl was being escorted into the opposing cell. She had white-blond hair, that fell to her shoulder blades and skin that was the colour of milk, she wore what looked like pure silk, dip-dyed gown with intricate needlepoint embroidery along the hem. She did not fit the type to be sitting in a dark cell. What the hell did she do? Devarak thought, continuing to watch as one of the guards shut the cell and locked it, the other one peered in at Devarak.

"He's awake again. Should we get the King?" He said.

"No need."

It was then that Devarak noticed the other man, salt, and pepper hair, curling at his ears, he had a tightly cropped beard and looked around forty.

"You." Devarak croaked.

"Me." The man said. "We will find out who hired you." He took a few steps forward and glanced at Devarak's many injuries. "I do not encourage torture the King has instructed us to use any method to get the information he seeks. I would suggest you tell us and save me the trouble of persuading it out of you in a less friendly manner."

"Sorry old man. Not a chance." Devarak grinned feebly, "It's my job. Part of that is not giving the names of my sources. That would be rather bad for my reputation."

Carsire sighed. "Your reputation is headed for the noose along with the rest of you. The King will get his information and then he will hang you."

"Well that's not a great incentive for me to talk now is it?" Devarak said with a dry laugh.

Carsire sighed, "I thought not. Well, we will continue where we left off late then." He turned back to the woman in the other cell, gesturing for the two guards to return to the end of the hall.

"Princess. I'll find a way to return you to your room. I'll come back with news later."

Lavinia sighed, "Don't bother. The King won't change his mind and I have no interest in revoking my statements. He is a fool, a murderer, and a cheat." Devarak arched an eyebrow watching as the girl gripped the bars, knuckles becoming paler if possible.

"Never the less I'll do my best Princess," Carsire said, turning and heading back up the hall. Then there was a slam and the cells went dark. Devarak's eyes adjusted and he made out the girl, stumbling into the far side of her cell. She slid down the wall and sat with her back pressed firmly against the cold stone. There was silence. Devarak became acutely aware of an itch just to the inside of his wrist. He attempted to maneuver it, trying to use the heavy manacle to scratch it.