Then she gave Shailiha a conspiratorial wink. "Besides," she added, "you know as well as I that well-behaved women rarely make history."
Shaking her head, Shailiha obstinately pointed to the unconscious slaver. "What can we possibly learn about the Citadel that he can't tell us?"
"That's what I want to find out. But I do agree with you about keeping our prize safe." Tyranny looked over at Micah. "I want you to fly him back to those high rocks on the shore. For the time being, you should be safe there. If we have not joined you in two hours' time, do your best to fly the slaver to the litter. I know it will be difficult to locate, but if you are forced to leave the island without us, we are probably all dead anyway. Then I want you and the others to try to make your way back to the Reprise, and from there to Faegan's portal. Go now. And good luck."
Micah lifted the demonslaver. K'jarr took his place at the window. After a silent nod of farewell, Micah carried the slaver through the door. They heard a few short steps, followed by the familiar sound of wings.
Shailiha glanced skeptically at K'jarr. The look on his face told her that he was as unsure about Tyranny's plan as she was. Scowling, the warrior returned to his surveillance.
"I know you have your doubts," Tyranny whispered. "Just answer one question. If the Jin'Sai were here, what would he do?"
"That doesn't matter now," K'jarr whispered back. As he turned back toward them, the look on his face was grim. "While we have been standing here talking, six slavers approach! I suspect they are coming to relieve the ones we killed."
With no time to lose, they lined up in threes on either side of the door. Silently cursing Tyranny's decision, Shailiha grimly raised her sword.
Soon the approaching slavers' footsteps could be heard. They grew louder. Then they stopped. An ominous silence descended.
As Shailiha tightened her grip upon her sword, the rusty hinges of the guardhouse door squeaked.
CHAPTER LI
As they walked together, Adrian looked worriedly at Abbey. Lionel's death had hit both women hard. There had still been no word from Faegan's group. Ottikar said he could easily find Valrenkium again, but if Abbey's hunch was right, getting there would be only half the battle. With every passing moment, her concern for the wizard and his warriors grew.
Adrian carried a basket containing a quill, a bottle of ink, and several rolls of blank parchment. Abbey held a flask of green liquid. She had spent several hours preparing it, using Faegan's stores of herbs and precious oils, and she would be the first to admit that she couldn't trust its effectiveness. Not only had the formula been complex, but it had been gleaned solely from memory. Without Faegan or Lionel to help her, the process had been difficult.
At their destination, they found the door guarded by a quartet of stern-faced warriors. The Minions snapped to attention.
"There have been no incidents, I trust?" Abbey asked.
The warrior in charge shook his head. "Another pair of guards has been with him the entire time. There has been no trouble."
He unlocked the door and swung it open, and the two women walked into the room.
The chamber was spacious and tastefully decorated. A table laden with food and drink sat in one corner. There were no windows and no balcony; the only door was that which they had just come through.
Uther limped about the room like a wounded tiger. The two guards assigned to him sat quietly nearby, watching his every move. Uther's face was bruised and there were gaps in his teeth where Lionel had knocked two of them out during their brief scuffle. I wish Lionel could see that, Abbey thought.
When he heard the women enter the room, Uther swung around. He pointed an accusatory finger at them.
"Who are you?" he shouted. "What is this place, and how did I get here? What happened to my face?"
He started to approach the women, but the two warriors intervened. At a gesture from Abbey, the Minions halted, stopping just short of taking hold of him. Uther glowered at the acolyte and the herbmistress.
"And most important," he breathed, "how is it that I no longer possess my gifts of the craft?"
For a moment, Adrian found his questions odd. Surely he must already know, she thought. Then she remembered that Faegan had wiped Uther's mind clean of certain memories; in addition, should he try to use the craft, he would find himself powerless. He would presumably stay that way until Faegan ended the spell.
"We'll be the ones asking the questions," Abbey answered. She ordered the warriors to move the room's writing desk and chair to the center of the floor.
"Sit down at the desk," she ordered the Valrenkian.
"No!" Uther growled. "Go to the Afterlife, bitch!"
Abbey raised an eyebrow. Looking over at the two warriors, she snapped her fingers. The Minions grabbed the Valrenkian and dragged him across the room, lifted him high, and smashed him down into the chair. Dazed, Uther shook his head.
"Bind him," Abbey ordered.
The Minions produced a length of rope and tied Uther securely to the chair. As his consciousness cleared, he glared back at the two women with venom in his eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked thickly. "What do you want?"
"We want some answers," Abbey said. "And you are going to give them to us. As a wizard friend of mine is so fond of saying, we can either do this the hard way or the easy way."
"No." Raising his face, he spat at them.
"Suit yourself." Abbey looked over at the warriors. "Do whatever you must to open his mouth."
The warriors took hold of Uther's head. Struggling wildly, he screamed. When he managed to bite one of them on the hand, the warrior laughed and swiped the Valrenkian hard across the face. Then they wrenched his head back and forced open his jaws. Blood dripped from one corner of Uther's mouth.
Abbey didn't like using violence, but if the Valrenkian wouldn't cooperate, he left her no choice. She opened the bottle of green liquid and poured it down his throat. Uther coughed and then quieted. His head lolled, and his eyelids drooped heavily.
"What is it that you just gave him?" one of the warriors asked.
Abbey bent down and closely examined his eyes.
"It's a crude form of truth elixir," she said. "And it appears that it's beginning to take hold." Relieved, she walked back over to stand next to Adrian. "Your turn," she said.
Adrian closed her eyes and raised her palms. Almost at once, Uther was engulfed in azure haze. His eyes widened, and his head snapped back.
"You have succeeded in entering his mind?" Abbey asked. "And he will do as he is asked?"
Adrian nodded. "But not to the same degree that Wigg or Faegan could manage," she answered quietly. "We can only hope that combining your liquid with my use of the craft will be enough to get what we need."
"Then we'll start with a few test questions, to which we already know the answers," Abbey whispered. She returned her gaze to the prisoner.
"What is your name?"
Uther was still staring blankly into space. "Uther-Uther of the House of Kronsteen."
"Are you a Valrenkian?"
"Yes."
"Do you practice the Vagaries?"
A cruel smile came to his lips. "Yes."
"Do you know a fellow partial adept named Reznik?"
"Yes."
Deciding he was telling the truth, Abbey stepped closer.
"Other than scaling the bluffs or traveling through the stone maze, is there any way in or out of your village?"