The Colorless Land

Chapter 21: Captive

A knock on the door snapped Lavilian out of her work as she sat focused on the same old meaningless papers. "Lavi," came Theor's voice from outside, "are you in there?"

Rising up, she strode to the door and opened it carefully. Her brother was alone; he looked like he was only stopping by on his way between duties, which usually meant that he had a job for her. All the better. Whatever it was, it could only have more meaning than the things she had been working on, which barely mattered for her own personal household.

"What is it?" she asked.

"They found the boy with the pendant," said Theor. "Father wants to know more about it before he decides what to do, but he and his companions refuse to reveal anything."

Lavilian raised an eyebrow. "Do you want me to question them?"

"Yes, please. He tasked me with it, but I'm too busy." He offered an apologetic grin. "Won't you take care of it in my stead?"

Lavilian raised a second eyebrow. "There will be trouble if Father finds out," she remarked. "Are you sure you shouldn't task someone more competent? A man, perhaps?"

Her brother's expression changed, and Lavilian knew him well enough to tell he had caught her bitter undertone. "I trust you more," he said. "If he finds out, I'll cover for you. Please?"

Lavilian sighed.

She had little faith in her interrogation skills, but of course she wouldn't say no. If she had a chance to do something for her kingdom for once, she would. Her paperwork wasn't urgent anyway.

Which did not mean she liked the way they had to arrange this: in secret, and with Theor covering for her because the king only listened to him and not her.

"Very well," she said. "Where are they?"

Theor motioned down the corridor. "In the dungeons. If you need more detail, ask my men."

Lavilian nodded and started off.

~ ~ ~

"So you are not keeping the prisoners apart?" came a quiet female voice from the door.

"In separate cells, my lady," a man's voice replied, "but not too far apart to communicate. 'Cept the kids and the sorceress, they've got their own tracts."

"Not the best solution," said the female voice, "but I understand. This dungeon isn't built to keep apart larger parties. You may stay here; I can find the rest myself."

A light set of footsteps moved through the passages, then a slender figure appeared around the corner. She was pale, made almost ghostly by the light of the lamp in her hands; her long, wispy hair was the hue of cold sunlight on a winter's day, her eyes ocean-blue but almost unnaturally dark compared to the rest of her. She was clad only in a simple white gown, but the cut and fabric alone were enough to reveal her status.

"If I had not met you before, my lady," Aithal said as he caught sight of her face, "I would have thought you the dungeon ghost."

Her face revealed no emotion. "Think so," she said, "if you wish. I have no complaints if it frightens you into telling me what I need."

"So you have been sent to question us?" Aithal raised an eyebrow. "Has the king finally discovered that his daughters can be trusted with important tasks?"

As he had expected, she squirmed slightly, as if his words had hit a sore spot. It lasted only a moment, then an emotionless mask settled on her face once more.

"That is beside the point," she said. "I am here to question you about the pendant, not speak about personal matters."

"And we won't tell you anything," came Saryana's voice from the neighboring cell. "Not if you send a million more people, not if you torture us."