"Really?" Grozier said, turning and looking at Marga.
She could feel his gaze on her, but she refused to look up at him. "But I didn't," she said sullenly. "Ask them; they know I can't, won't."
Grozier laughed and said, "Of that, I have no doubt, sweet sister. And I would expect resentment and resistance from you at the moment."
In two quick steps, the man was in front of Marga, leaning forward menacingly, both hands on the armrests of the chair.
She recoiled from him, though his actions forced her to look up into his eyes. She could see a dangerous glint there. She felt afraid, had anticipated his wrath. She knew that he would be angry when he found out what she had been thinking.
"I don't have to remind you of what will happen if you decide to act on your impulses," Grozier said in a low voice. "I'm sure that, should I ask my two accomplices here, they will also tell me why you resisted your urge to spill the truth."
Marga drew back, until her head was pressed against the back of the chair, and still she wanted to draw away even more. "Please," she said, her voice nearly a whimper. "I know what you'll do. I can't help my feelings, but I'm not crossing you, I swear by Tyr's scales. I will not. The thoughts-they just come, and I-" And she did look away, then, turned her head to one side and cried, pressing the back of her hand to her mouth as the fear and pain washed over her.
Grozier drew back, seemingly satisfied. "You fret too much," he said in a more jovial tone, countering Marga's wretched mood. "And you do not see the benefits of our arrangement yet."
Marga sniffed and wiped a tear from her cheek, feeling angry again. She turned and looked at her brother with a scowl. "What? You mean all the glory and wealth that is Obiron and Quindy's to be had, once you've seized control of House Matrell? Oh, yes, let's allow them to live up to their father's and uncle's legacies! Let's teach them that the corrupt path, the path of deceit and theft, will take them far in this world. Yes, I'm overjoyed at such-"
"Enough!" Grozier shouted, making Marga jump from his vehemence. "Like it or not, this is the life before you. You stand at a crossroads, sister. You can choose to live out your days with your children, watching them grow as I guide them to their rightful places as the heirs of this House, or you can… be elsewhere. It changes nothing for me, of course, but I would think you might want to remain living in this world and be a part of the rest of their lives."
Marga watched her brother's seething face as he spat the hateful words at her, blinking in terror but unable to react at all. She knew Grozier well enough to know that he was not making an idle threat. If she stood in his way, if she tried to prevent him from gaining his revenge upon the rest of the Matrell family for their part in turning his plans awry, he would kill her and think little of it. It was as simple as that.
"She knows you do not bluff," one of the creatures said, but in its own voice then, not that of one of her children. "She knows you will kill her if she does not cooperate."
Both Marga and Grozier turned to look at the thing, standing behind Grozier in its natural form. It was all gangly arms and legs, except for its head, which was large and round, like an egg. The thing's skin was gray and hairless. It was repulsive to look upon, but what unnerved Marga the most were its eyes. They were large and round, yellow orbs with narrow slits. She would have said they looked like a cat's eyes, but such a description was inaccurate. No, she decided, they were the eyes of an octopus. Cold and dead, they seemed, and they stared straight at her. She knew the creature was reading her mind right then, could sense her loathing of it.
"Good," Grozier said, stepping back from Marga and turning to face the thing directly. "She's a smart girl. Because I would, you know," he said.
"Yes," the creature replied in a deadpan tone, its voice strangely dissonant and hollow. "I know you would."
Grozier chuckled. "Of course you do." Then he turned away and began to pace. "But I didn't just show up to taunt or threaten my lovely sister tonight. No, I have most exciting news." He moved beside Bartimus, who had been standing in the shadows at the corner of the room, staying out of the way until needed, as usual. Grozier clapped the mage on the shoulder in a gesture of camaraderie, then spun and continued his pacing.
"It seems that various members of the Matrell family have gotten themselves into some unfortunate scrapes today. Sadly, the family is being whittled down to nothing, little by little."
Marga gasped, unable to contain her sudden dread.
"Oh, yes," Grozier replied, picking up on the woman's fear. "Apparently, the ship that was carrying Lieutenant Vambran Matrell and Quartermaster Kovrim Lazelle sank off the coast of Reth today, and all hands are presumed dead or missing." His tone had turned solemn, though it was a mocking gesture, for the man could not contain his smile as he spoke. "It seems that neither man will be coming home from campaign this season," he finished, almost chuckling in his glee.
Marga wanted to strangle him. Her heart ached with the news.
"And as it turns out, two other members of the family have been waylaid in the dark of night in a more unsavory neighborhood of Arrabar. I'm sorry to report that Xaphira and Emriana Matrell won't be finding their way home again, either."
"No!" Marga cried, lunging up from her chair, horrified. "No! You didn't do this! Please tell me you did not hurt them!" She charged toward her brother, her hands balled into fists, and began to pound at him, slamming both fists into his chest, trying to cuff him about the face and head.
Grozier, in his initial shock, did nothing to stop his sister at first, but then he began to step back, away from her assault, and managed to clamp his hands around her wrists, restraining her. "Stop it!" he demanded, driving her back from him, driving her down.
Marga crumpled then, sagging to the floor in agony. It had been by her hand that the two women, Emriana and Xaphira, had been harmed. Her betrayal had led Grozier and his accomplices to find them. Marga could not stand that guilt. She buried her face in her arms, right there on the floor, and sobbed.
I did it. I killed them, she thought as she cried. The same as if I'd held the weapon myself. Why has all of this happened to me? Waukeen, what did I do to cross you, to bring this down upon myself?
Marga could feel Grozier step around his sister and continue pacing. He apparently was refusing to be upstaged during his gleeful telling of the horrid tale.
"Regrettably, after the unfortunate events of last month, that leaves only three family members alive, and two of those are… not of age, yet."
Marga sat up, realizing where her brother was going with his explanations.
He was looking at her, an expectant smile upon his face. "Yes, Marga, dear, I knew you would figure it out. Tonight, the only person who stands between the wealth of House Matrell and your two children is Hetta herself."
"No," Marga said weakly, helplessly. "Don't."
"Oh, I don't intend to," he said, still smiling. "I think we'll leave that for a different member of the family." He turned to the gray-skinned creature, still standing and watching as Grozier had strutted in pride through the room. "I'm sure you have an idea of who might get close to Grandmother Hetta tonight," he said to the thing.
"Absolutely," the creature remarked, and right before Marga's eyes, it began to change, to shift. It grew taller and filled out, adapting a human form all too familiar to the woman. It was as if she were looking in a reflecting glass.
"No!" she cried, trying to rise to her feet. "You cannot do this! Stop it!" Marga demanded, moving toward the thing, the false version of herself. "Leave her alone!"
But Grozier stepped between Marga and the imitation of her, grabbed his sister by the arms. "No, no," he said, wrapping his arms around her when she began to flail at him, hit him, trying to get past him and at the false version of herself. "You and I are going to wait right here, and it'll all be over," he said.