Jerri was less than impressed with these Sleepless acolytes.
The group of robed men and women wearing the Open Eye medallions had dragged her crew through the streets of Silverreach, shoving them into a hollowed-out house that stank of fish. They acted like a gang of base kidnappers, and didn’t even try to persuade the prisoners to their cause.
It would be hard to do, she had to admit, given that they were taking prisoners. But she wouldn’t have made that mistake. She would have greeted any newcomers warmly, like guests, showing them that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Then again, there was something to be afraid of.
While the Sleepless were still pushing the crew of The Testament into the house, the spider-like Inquisitors caught up. They slid through the doorway, in the middle of the crowd of humans, and even the Elder cultists shied back. Jerri couldn’t help a surge of contempt; she hadn’t backed up a step.
The two Inquisitors circled Mr. Valette, making noises like the rapid click of a dozen knitting needles. The Watchman’s captor stumbled away, leaving the man in the black coat to the Inquisitors.
To his credit, Valette didn’t shy away. He held himself straight, chin up, and slid a black iron spike out of one pocket.
Jerri admired him. He stood against the Elders as an equal, unbowing. These acolytes could learn a thing or two from him about proper conduct.
At the sight of the Awakened nail, the Inquisitors got excited, waving their limbs and stalk-eyes and frantically circling him. He moved to keep both in view, but he wasn’t fast enough.
One spider-leg flashed out, too quick to follow, and a spot of red bloomed on his calf. He cried out and fell to one knee, striking out with his spike. The second Inquisitor dodged, seizing his weapon between two surprisingly delicate limbs. Its partner seized Mr. Valette under the shoulders.
In one scuttling motion, they were gone, the door slamming shut behind them.
The old man in charge of the Sleepless shook his head sadly. “May his soul fly free. We must come to a closer understanding of our Elder neighbors. If we could communicate, we could have saved that poor man. Alas.” He wasn’t a member of the main cabal, the leadership of the cult, but he apparently had command of the other acolytes. If Jerri got the chance, she would see that he was ‘demoted’ to feed the worms of Kthanikahr.
The prisoners were separated by gender, as Calder and the others were prodded into a room full of male prisoners. Jerri was led across the hall, where a handful of women were kept.
As Calder saw her taken away, his eyes flashed with rage. He shot forward, breaking free of the first man holding him, but his weapons had already been confiscated. Three Sleepless piled on him, crushing him to the ground.
Hot rage boiled up, stoked by the fires of her Vessel. How dare they treat us like this? We will rule them all someday.
She was almost swallowed up by a daydream of sweeping this place with emerald fire, searing the flesh from their captors’ bones and leading the imprisoned to freedom. Seeing Calder on the floor, struggling to fight for her, it was harder to resist than usual.
But she still had other goals. Instead of killing everyone, she forced a smile, reminding Calder that she was still all right. She allowed her captor to lead her across the hall, where she joined four other women with bound hands and feet.
When the Sleepless man pulled a stretch of cord from his pocket and moved forward to bind her, she gave him her most charming smile. His eyebrows raised, and she stepped in closer, leaning her chin on his shoulder.
She whispered straight into his ear, “If you touch me again, I will burn you from the inside.”
His head bobbed back so he could look her in the eye. She tapped her Vessel so that her earring would spark ever so faintly.
Burn the disobedient to ash.
With greatest care, the Sleepless backed out of the room. He didn’t take his eyes off her until the door was shut and bolted.
Jerri found a chair in the corner and pulled it around so that it was out of sight of the doorway. If the door swung open again, she didn’t want Calder to see her free. She might have to come up with an explanation.
As she sat in the chair, unbound, and started to plan a way to use these developments to her advantage, she felt four sets of eyes on her. She looked up, and the other women gazed at her with expressions of awe.
“What did you say to him?” one of them whispered.
Looking at the four frightened women, Jerri realized her opportunity. “You have to know how to talk to these people,” she said. “And to do that, you have to know a little about the Elders.”
Calder’s hands and feet were bound and he was bruised all over from being tackled to the ground, but frustration and anger choked him. Elderspawn, he could understand. They were evil and alien, and they viewed people as particularly stupid animals. But what were humans doing on the side of the Elders? How short-sighted or cruel did you have to be to take orders from a Great Elder?
More specifically, what were they doing to Jerri?
The boy who had tried to escape was shoved in a corner, wrists and ankles tied, just as Calder’s were. He had a look of absolute despair on his face, as though he knew what was coming and it was too horrifying to think about. There were five other men in the room, besides Andel and himself. Four of them were in various stages of insensibility—either unconscious, dazed, or possibly dead. One, an old man with a wild mane of gray hair, watched Calder with a smirk.
“What are you squirming about? You think you can fight Elderspawn with both hands tied, do you?”
“I’ve seen worse,” Calder said. He had. The Lyathatan looked like it was made out of sharks and nightmares, and made the Inquisitors seem like bizarre lobsters by comparison. As for their current situation…well, he’d been in tighter straits outside the Candle Bay prison. He’d been forced to bargain with a Great Elder to break out, true, but he had escaped. This was nothing.
The old man chuckled, raising both of his tied hands to lift a pair of glasses to his face. For the first time, Calder noticed two pairs of glasses hanging from a leather thong around the man’s neck. Why would someone need two different sets of glasses?
He snorted when he saw Calder through the lenses. “What are you, eighteen?”
He was seventeen, but he didn’t feel like saying so. “‘Remember the wisdom of the blind man, who does not weigh the silver in another’s hair.’ Laius the Younger.”
Gray eyebrows lifted. “Sounds like you’ve cracked a book. Must not be a local.”
Calder smiled as broadly as he could, though his chin was bruised, and it came out more like a wince. “Calder Marten, Navigator Captain.”
“Imperial prisoner,” Andel corrected, “under the supervision and probation of the Navigator’s Guild.”
“Ah,” the old man said, nodding as though the picture now fit perfectly. “And you are?”
Before Andel could introduce himself, Calder stepped in. “This is Andel Petronus, a barnacle that attached itself to my ship. Somehow, I can’t seem to scrape him off.”
Andel ignored Calder, focusing on the old man. “And you are?”
“…Duster,” he eventually said.
Calder and Andel stared at him together.
“That was a strange pause just now,” Andel said, just as Calder began, “If you don’t want to tell us your real name…”