by Steven Drake
Nia knew the feeling well. In her way, Lura was experiencing the same sense of confusion and powerlessness that had bothered her for weeks. Everything she had ever known was collapsing, the world itself seemed to be changed.
“Then you can’t get an audience?”
“No,” Lura said, “but I know someone who can.” Lura flashed a weak smile, and Nia returned it. Perhaps this would be easier than she thought.
Chapter 23: The Tertiary Undersecretary
Less than a half hour later, after sneaking in a back door, climbing some stairs, and winding through several hallways, Niarie stood nervously outside the nondescript mahogany door of the Tertiary Undersecretary of Enchantments, a man Lura was certain could grant an audience with the Empress. Lura had been inside the office for several minutes, and Nia had started to worry. She shifted her weight anxiously from one foot to the other and bit at her lower lip, unable to hear the slightest sound through the thick wooden door. She tensed every time someone passed, but no one seemed to pay her much attention.
Finally, after what seemed ages, the door creaked open, and Nia hurried in. The undersecretary sat behind a cherrywood desk, needlessly opulent and polished to a gleaming shine. He was a round man with a round face and a ring of thin, rapidly graying hair surrounding a bald crown, an unimpressive individual without any apparent magic. The undersecretary appeared to be leafing through some thin parchments, nothing that looked particularly important. Lura stood off to the side, hands clasped in front of her, staring at the floor.
Niarie took another step and stopped as every hair on her neck stood on end. She sensed the prickle of a weak magical aura just behind and to her left, too weak for a person, probably some kind of device. Nia sensed something was wrong, and she started to turn, but too late. A sharp blow landed against the back of her head, followed by a wave of extreme nausea. Nia felt herself fall but couldn’t tell which direction was up, the room seemed to be spinning in all directions at once. Every object sped across her field of vision so fast that they blurred together into fuzzy streaks of color. Shutting her eyes barely lessened the sensation. Worse than that, her magical sense failed her, and she couldn’t move.
“Hurry and get the shackles on her,” a thin raspy voice commanded, Nia guessed it to be the undersecretary. “She’s much stronger than either of us, and the aura disruptor won’t last more than a minute or two.”
Nia felt a hand grasp her cloak, drag her to her feet, then toss her into a chair. She felt the dizziness already beginning to fade, and opened her eyes just as a thunderous backhand blow crashed across her face. Before she could react, she felt cold steel close around her wrists. The now familiar sensation of being cut off from her magic returned, but at least the dizziness faded as well.
Nia opened her eyes to see the rotund, mostly bald undersecretary looking down at her. A large pale-skinned man with a light blond beard and mustache stood behind him, smiling rather stupidly. Nia looked at Lura, who was still standing in the same place, trembling, with her fists clenched and her eyes glued to the floor. Revulsion and anger tore across Nia’s mind, her teeth clenched, and angry tears formed in her eyes.
“Lura, how could you?”
The woman said nothing, and only continued to stare at the floor.
“Now, now, there’s no point being angry at her,” the undersecretary rasped condescendingly. “She’s been working for us several months now, as payment for saving her husband from the gallows. A tragic tale really, just a commoner in the wrong place at the wrong time, blamed for a murder committed by the son of a baron. There are so many stories just like hers. The Golden Shield allows such injustice to pass on a daily basis. Is it really any wonder half of them would rather be ruled by a more just master?”
Nia continued to glare at Lura, who was now sobbing softly. It hardly seemed an excuse for this. “I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “They’ll kill us both if we don’t help them.”
“Justice demands unconditional obedience,” the undersecretary added. “You’ve done well Lura, thank you. This couldn’t come at a better time. Barris has the entire city on lockdown. It’s been difficult to get information in or out and now the Archmage’s granddaughter falls right into my lap.”
“I won’t tell you anything.” Niarie spat in the fat man’s face. Another backhand blow from the larger man crashed across her face.
“Enough Stephan,” the undersecretary said. “We don’t have time for a proper interrogation, and if we tried to use the torture rooms, we could risk alerting the wrong people. Barris still controls the information gathering arm of the Inquisition. She’s getting more paranoid by the day, and I don’t want to give her new advisors a reason to ask questions.” The fat man grumbled and frowned, but stepped away. “Fortunately, I have a quicker method. I’d never be able to overpower her while her magic was active, but suppressed by the shackles, this should be easy.”
The fat man stared intensely at her eyes, his pupils widened, and the mahogany brown irises shrunk to a thin ring. Nia guessed what was coming. The Undersecretary did possess some magic after all, concealed either by enchanted clothes, or by some trick similar to the one Kesz used. Nia tried to look away, but couldn’t. She felt magic press against her weakened mind, a wretched, vile presence that she could not banish. It pressed further, and she cried out in pain. That only seemed to encourage the invader. Nia had never been subjected to domination magic before, and horror rose as she realized what was happening. She tried to summon her own magic, but nothing happened, save the shackles on her wrist grew heavier and pulled on her. Still she tried to fight, and this time it came with pain, like shards of glass shattering and embedding themselves deep inside her skull. She screamed out in terror but could hear no sound. The pain built to a crescendo as she fought the spell, but gradually she felt her will slipping slowly away as the pain ate away at her sanity. The dark pupils of the undersecretary seemed to vibrate and swirl, then the pain died away as a calm, dim haze settled over her mind, like the effects of too much drink. Her mouth fell open, but she no longer cared.
“Now then,” the undersecretary said. “You were one of Traiz’s companions sent after the Star Sword, yes?”
“Yes,” Nia said dully.
“Good, now I very much would like to know what became of him. He was supposed to return by now.”
“He’s dead, killed by Darien,” Nia said, answering without a thought, barely conscious of herself speaking the words.
The fat undersecretary frowned. “Well, that is unfortunate. His death makes our position more complicated, but I suppose that isn’t your fault.” The undersecretary touched Nia’s cheek, and the touch of his stubby, clammy fingers roused a fresh surge of resistance. It only brought the pain back, however, worse than before, and now it reached down her back. Her mind blanked momentarily, and when her consciousness returned, she could no longer feel anything.
“Now, Niarie,” the undersecretary droned, “I need to know how you got past the perimeter.”
“Kesz spell, hides magic.”
“And who is Kesz?”
“Dragon… Pashka… Friend.” Nia’s dim mind hung by a thread, it was difficult to even form words.
“Is he here, in the city?”
“Yes… sewers… hiding.”
“Very good, Niarie. Now I have just one more question. Did you find the Star Sword, and where is it?”
“We found it… I have it…”
“You what? Really?” The undersecretary sounded positively giddy. He looked down at the sword sheathed at Nia’s waist. Nia felt her mind released as the fat man broke eye contact, and she promptly slumped forward in the chair. She was barely conscious of the undersecretary reaching out to grasp the hilt of the Star Sword.
What happened next, however, shocked everyone. Just as the undersecretary was about to grip the hilt, a surge of magic flared, and the round man staggered backwards and fell heavily to the floor.
“Damn you, girl,” the undersecretary growl
ed. Another blow from Stephan landed on the side of her head, setting her ears ringing and knocking her out of the chair onto the plush carpeted floor. “What did you do? Tell me or I’ll use the shadow sight again.”
“It’s not me,” Nia whimpered. “I didn’t do it. It’s the sword, no one else can touch it.”
“I see,” the undersecretary said. “Traiz didn’t mention that. I suppose he planned to be here himself. No matter. Stephan, see if you can take her belt.”
A large rough hand grabbed her about the waist and searched for the buckle of her belt. He fumbled for a moment before unlatching it and pulling off the belt. Nia had no strength to fight, and the belt slid off easily, pulling sword and sheath with it.
“Excellent,” the undersecretary said. “The Master just wants to make sure it can’t be used against him. This will do.”
The danger of what was happening quickly dawned on her. The Star Sword had been their hope for defeating the Demon King, and now it was in the hands of the enemy. Nia thought of trying to get it, but she could barely move her arms. Between the shackles that stifled her magical aura, the several blows from Stephan, and the throbbing pain in her skull from the domination spell, Nia could barely even think. Why me, she cursed? I’m so weak. Why did it have to choose me? Why couldn’t it have chosen Jerris, or Ceres, or just anyone but me? She began to sob into the carpet.
“Stephan, get the two of them out of here,” the undersecretary said. “That magical discharge might have alerted someone. I’ll take care of hiding the sword.”
“What should I do with them?” The big man had not spoken until now, and it was immediately obvious why, as he sounded none too intelligent, just a thug.
“Get rid of them quietly. Make sure the bodies are never found.”
“What? What do you mean?” Lura cried out. “I did everything you asked. I brought her here. You can’t.”
“I’m sorry dear, but you know too much now. I can’t risk you telling anyone else. If the Empress got ahold of you, you’d sing like a bird after a few minutes, and we can’t have that, now can we?” the undersecretary said with cruel false sympathy. “If it makes any difference, I was never going to let you see your husband again anyway. I don’t even know if he’s still alive,” the round man cackled with glee.
Nia suddenly felt a raw surge of anger. She rose quickly to her feet, and despite the pain that still wracked her body, she reached out to strangle the fat undersecretary. She had almost reached him when a hammer blow fell across her back and knocked her to the floor again.
“Thank you, Stephan,” the undersecretary said. “A bit more fight in that one than I thought. Now get them out of here quickly.” While she was on the ground, Nia heard the sounds of a struggle, scuffling feet, Lura’s voice crying out, a crack that sounded like bone breaking, then a thump, the sound Nia guessed to be Lura’s body hitting the floor.
A moment later, she felt a set of hands grab her around the ankles. Stephan seemed to be dragging her across the floor, not back to the door, but to a bookshelf in the corner. Nia heard the sound of two objects sliding across each other, then a click. Stephan dragged both Nia and Lura forward into a dark passage hidden in the wall. The floor was mercifully smooth, so being dragged across it was less painful than it might have been. Still, the occasional bump sent waves of pain washing through her. It was too dark too see much more than gradations of shadow, but she heard an occasional gurgling moan. Lura seemed to be much worse off.
After several painful minutes being dragged across the stone floor, Nia felt the floor drop beneath her, hard stone cracked against the side of her skull, and she slipped into darkness.
When Niarie regained consciousness, she found herself lying on a stone floor, somehow still not dead. The sound of dripping water echoed somewhere in the distance. Dim shapes formed in her vision, the darkness seemed less complete here. Nia’s head throbbed with continuous pain, a reminder of her ordeal. Her first thought was to look for Lura, but she saw nothing in front of her, and she dared not move, not until she was sure her captor was gone. The sound of footsteps quickly shattered that hope. They grew louder until they stopped a few feet away.
“What is it Stephan,” a deep croaking voice asked.
“I heard you need slaves for the arena,” the harsh, unintelligent voice of the thug, Stephan, responded.
“I do indeed. You have some more for me?” the croaking voice asked hopefully. “I’ve been short since the coronation, what with the city locked down. Can only smuggle in so many through the sewers at a time, and the last two groups got caught by the patrols and turned away. The last show cost me several more.”
“What will you pay for these two?” Stephan asked, and the footsteps drew closer. Nia held her breath.
“Hmm, what did these two do?” the croaking voice asked.
“Don’t much matter, does it?” Stephan said. “Just tell me what you’ll give for them.”
The footsteps drew nearer and Niarie heard the sounds of ragged breathing somewhere above her. The man was inspecting her. “What are those cuffs on her hands? Hmmm…” Nia froze and shut her eyes while the croaking man bent down over her, close enough she could smell his breath, the stink of cheap ale and old cheese. “Mage bindings, Stephan?” the croaking man asked condescendingly. “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?” The croaking man sounded displeased. “Can’t do much with mages. They’re uncontrollable with their magic power intact and they’re near worthless without it.” Nia felt a sharp kick in the center of her back, and stifled a cry. “Must be dangerous to have to use mage bindings. Who are these two anyway?”
“None of yer business, that’s who.”
“Now now, Stephan, I’m only protecting my interests. They don’t use these on just any prisoner. Has to be someone important.” The croaking man paused for several long moments, then coughed, a sickly wet cough. Nia felt the spittle land across her back. “You didn’t bring these two from the dungeons, did you, Stephan? I wonder, does your boss know you’re selling the people you’re supposed to be killing?”
“Think yer clever, slaver? Course the boss don’t know. They don’t pay me enough for loyalty,” Stephan growled. “But if he finds out, yer just as dead as me, so it’s better fer you the boss don’t find out, ain’t it?”
“You always put these things so eloquently, don’t you, Stephan?” the croaking man laughed, a deep throaty chuckle punctuated by another wet cough. “Hmm, let’s see.” Nia tensed as the footsteps started again, this time moving around her head and stopping somewhere in front of her. She could just barely make out a set of booted feet in the gloom. She heard a kick next, followed by a soft moan, Lura, and she sounded even worse than before. Nia’s eyesight continued to improve, and she saw the dark shape of the croaking man squat over another dark form that had to be Lura’s. “This one is almost dead already. Won’t live the night. You’d have to pay me to get rid of the body.”
Stephan growled and spit before speaking. “I’ll dump her in the sewer, then. Guess I was too rough. Dumb girl deserved it anyway, brought her best friend straight to us.” Nia’s heart stopped. Despite everything Lura had done, she didn’t deserve to be dumped in a sewer. Nia cried silently, because there was absolutely nothing she could do. Her magic was restrained, the Star Sword was gone, and she could tell if she so much as tried to stand, she would probably throw up. She was no match for Stephan, and now he wasn’t alone. She felt tears roll down her cheek. It wasn’t as if she was going to last much longer now, anyway. She would probably join Lura soon enough. Jerris was right after all, Nia said to herself. I was a fool to think I could do this. In less than a day, I’ve gotten myself captured and in another day, I’ll be dead or worse. It was all Nia could do to silence her whimpers as tears streamed across her face.
“I can’t pay much, but I’ll give you twenty silver for the blond girl. I need a few disposables for tomorrow, and the crowd always responds so well to the cute ones,” the croaking man declared.
>
“Just twenty? I could make twice that by turning you in to the constables. Yer s’posed to use condemned criminals, but ain’t enough of em, and they pay ya by the head, don’t they?” Stephan growled. “I want forty silver and no less.”
“Perhaps you could make more by turning me in, but you wouldn’t live long enough to spend it. You may have your friends, but I have mine as well. Let’s keep this civil, shall we? Twenty-five is more than fair.”
“Thirty-five, slaver, or maybe I find someone else next time.”
“Thirty then, and that’s a gift. You won’t get more from anyone else.”
“Fine,” Stephan finally growled out the response.
“Excellent,” the man croaked enthusiastically. “Always a pleasure doing business with you. If you happen to, ahem, acquire any more, you know where to find me.”
“Hold on just a minute, slaver,” Stephan added. “The mage bindings are worth more than she is. I need them back.”
“Can’t put one over on you, can I Stephan?” the slaver said with a condescending chuckle. “I have a few sets of my own, but not here. I’ll meet you tomorrow night at the usual place.”
“You better show, slaver, or you’ll pay to all thirteen hells.”
“Now Stephan, you wound me,” the man feigned offense. “I may be just a slaver, but I am still a businessman. Besides, I know well enough you have all your trinkets marked. I know better than to steal from the Inquisition.”
Nia heard the footsteps of Stephan as he moved away, as well as the scraping of Lura’s body against the stone floor. The weight of her death now added to Nia’s guilt. As much as the betrayal had hurt, it hurt worse to feel responsible for Lura’s death. Nia wept, allowing her sobs to echo in the empty room.