Cale had to turn to keep the disgust from his face. He could see that Riven was enjoying it, and he knew what would happen if he turned Riven loose on the man. He didn't know if he could allow that. He prayed that he would not have to make the decision. For the time being, though, he had to play it out.
"You know who we are, so you know what we'll do," said Cale. "There will be no end to the pain until you tell us what we want to know."
Riven reached out, and took another tool from atop the barrel. The easterner's eyes followed his every move.
"Flay," he whispered into the easterner's ear. He put that tool back and chose a saw-edged blade. "Slice." He picked up a pair of tongs. "Rip."
Cale let the easterner's imagination work, let him feel Riven's presence beside him. The room smelled of fear. He decided that the time was right to make himself the easterner's friend, the only thing standing between him and a madman with a knife.
"I've seen him work before," Cale said apologetically, indicating Riven. "If you won't talk to me ... then you'll have to talk to him."
Riven grinned, circled the easterner the way a vulture circles a dying man.
Moving methodically, staring at the easterner throughout, Cale removed his mask from his cloak and donned it.
Outside, thunder rolled.
Cale spoke the words to a spell that would allow no lie to be spoken within the room.
"If you attempt to lie," he said. "I will know."
The easterner strained against his bonds. Riven, behind him, took his head between his hands and squeezed. The easterner froze. Riven looked to Cale expectantly.
Cale cast a second spell, one that would magnify the fear the easterner already felt. The instant Cale voiced the final syllable, the easterner's eyes went wide and began to dart around. Cale advanced on him. The man grunted, nearly fell over in his terror. Caught between Cale and Riven, he put his chin in his chest, moaned, and began to rock.
Cale hoped that he was coherent enough to answer. He felt uncomfortable putting the man into a state of terror but figured it was better than turning him over to Riven.
"You will have only one chance to answer my questions. Do you understand?"
The easterner grunted acquiescence around his gag.
"Remove his gag," Cale said.
Riven did, but said, "Say a word that even suggests a spell, and I take your tongue."
Cale knew that Riven meant what he said. His spell would not allow a lie to be spoken.
Cale stood over the easterner and asked, "What is the sphere?"
"I don't know," the easterner blathered. "I don't know."
Riven cuffed him in the head and asked, "Why does the mage want it?"
"To transform himself."
"Into what?" asked Cale. "How?"
"A shade," the man said. "By binding with the shadowstuff at the Fane of Shadows ... Shar's temple."
Cale and Riven shared a look. Cale had never heard of the Fane of Shadows.
"Where is this Fane?" Cale asked.
Terror kept the easterner's tongue loose. "At the Lightless Lake, in the Gulthmere, not far from Starmantle."
Cale did not know the Lightless Lake, but he knew of the Gulthmere—a brooding, ancient forest on the Dragon Coast.
"Why does he wish to become a shade?"
The easterner looked at him as though he was stupid, even through the fear.
"To make himself ageless," the man explained, "immune to disease, able to regenerate wounds. Why else?"
Cale understood. Vraggen was prepared to trade his humanity for power. It didn't surprise Cale. He had seen men behave as less than humans for much less than immortality. For the moment, he put it out of his mind, kneeled down, and stared the easterner in the eyes.
Cale asked, "What are you?"
The question hung in the air. The easterner's mouth twisted, he bit down on his tongue so hard it bled. He shook his head, sweating, breathing heavily.
Abruptly, Cale's spell ended. He knew it because the easterner's eyes cleared; his expression turned from fearful to defiant.
Cale grabbed him by his cloak and shook him.
"What are you?" he pressed.
"The abyss take you," the easterner said.
Riven slammed a dagger into the man's hand, pinning it to the barrel and eliciting a scream of agony.
"Wrong answer," the assassin hissed. He replaced the gag and reached around to pick up a hammer and several nails from his black bag. "I'll begin with your kneecaps."
Cale halted him with a hand on his wrist and a shake of his head.
Riven glared at him, his eye hard, and said, "He knows more, Cale."
Cale knew, but he couldn't get it, not that way. He shook his head again.
Riven gave way. With an angry snarl, he turned to the easterner and thumped him in the temple with his hammer. Not a killing blow. The man groaned and sagged, unconscious.
"You'll regret this," Riven said, and began to gather up his implements.
Maybe, Cale thought. But he knew he would have regretted the alternative more.
When he and Riven emerged from the barn, he saw that the rain had stopped at last. Behind them, the bound easterner lay unconscious on the wood-planked floor. Cale was pleased that they had not resorted to ... other methods. The spell-enhanced interrogation had revealed enough.
The halfling saw them coming. He hopped off the trough upon which he sat. Even in the dark, Cale could see that the color had drained from Jak's face.
"Is he ... ?"
"No," Cale said. "Just unconscious."
Jak started to walk past them for the barn. Cale stopped him.
"It didn't come to that, Jak."
Jak looked him in the face, judging the truth of Cale's words. He nodded.
"What would you do anyway, Fleet?" Riven spat, contempt heavy in his tone. "Comfort him?"
"Ignore him," Cale said. He guided Jak back to the trough, sat him down, and sat down beside him.
To get the halfling's mind on other things, he went right into what they had learned.
Jak's eyes went wide.
"Shade!" the halfling exclaimed. "Like the Netherese? Burn me, Cale! Those dark hearted bastards aren't even human. I've heard ..." He stopped and shook his head. "Why?"
Cale shrugged. "Immortality. Power. Something else. We don't know. In the end, it doesn't matter. This isn't over just because we got Ren back. We're going to stop the mage, and we're going to kill him."
Jak nodded, pulled his pipe from a belt pouch, and twirled it between his fingers. His eyes went to Cale's pack.
"How does the sphere fit into this?" the halfling asked.
Cale shook his head and answered, "Not sure of that either. Maybe it tells him when to enter the temple, or when to perform the ritual. Maybe something else altogether. But at least now we learned the where and the what. We know where to start looking. And in the morning, we take the sphere to Sephris and find out the when."
"The morning . . ." Jak said, nodding, and his gaze went distant. He sat silent for a time. "What about him?" he asked at last, indicating the barn.
"It, you mean," Riven said. "That's not a man, Fleet. His wounds start to close the moment they're made."
Jak looked at Cale sharply.
"Only a couple," Cale explained. "Just to knock him out."
Jak accepted that.
Riven said, "Only one thing to do with a creature like that. We cut him into pieces and burn the remains. Not even a troll comes back from that."
Riven said it so matter-of-factly that even Cale blanched. Jak went pale.
"That a problem for you, Fleet? The Harpers didn't teach you how to get your hands dirty?"