Esmeree is thrown backwards violently, and the enraged Brack moves in for the kill. Esmeree doesn’t bother raising her sica to defend herself. His final killing stroke would simply batter it away as his spatha cleaves her in two.

Instead, she stays prone and waits as he stands above her. His right leg flexes as he raises his sword. Her hand touches her ember, and she summons. A spark of intense heat ignites within his knee. The warrior rocks backwards and howls, clutching the joint in agony.

All his weight is on his left leg when she kicks out. The knee snaps like kindling, and the Brack tumbles to the ground.

Esmeree leaps to her feet and runs to help Hiisi. The cing ducks and spins, somehow keeping five swordsmen busy. His blade slows only when it strikes bone or steel.

Two Bracks have longbows, but have thus far missed the cing with their arrows. She summons just as the nearest archer takes aim. The string snaps, lashing out violently and laying open the face of the second archer. As his companion collapses in agony, the first archer throws his useless bow away and charges Hiisi, drawing his spatha and joining his five compatriots.

A young warrior makes a grab for Hiisi’s sword arm. Hiisi hesitates, allowing him to get a good grip before he spins around, throwing the boy onto the swords of the others. A second Brack rushes into the opening and finds himself face-to-face with the barrel of Hiisi’s flintlock. The cing smiles and fires, shattering the man’s skull with the bullet.

A third Brack is sent sprawling when Hiisi sidesteps unexpectedly. The fallen warrior shakes his head in the dirt and fumbles for his dropped sword. When his hand finally closes around its hilt, he is surprised to find Esmeree’s boot on it. He looks up just in time to see her sica coming down.

Hiisi is laughing and taunting his opponents, obviously enjoying the exercise. Esmeree figures he can handle the three remaining Bracks himself. She looks around at the devastated caravan. This group was unusually well-defended, but Hiisi figured it was worth the risk when Esmeree discovered the power of the sorcerer among them. They all appear to be devotees of some Brackish god–Johlpa maybe–Esmeree isn’t sure. Now she summons again, and the glow from the sorcerer’s massive ember blazes like a sun.

About 200 yards away, a covered wagon drawn by slow oxen is trying to make its escape. The beasts are hardly athletic creatures, and they are barely moving at jogging speed.

Esmeree easily leaps into the saddle of her marka and spurs it into a gallop. One of the three remaining warriors tries to intercept her, and Hiisi cuts him down from behind. Esmeree catches up with the wagon in seconds. A mosac sitting in the front screams when he sees her, and a woman sitting next to him desperately tries to drive the oxen faster.

With her sica in one hand, Esmeree dismounts and runs along side the wagon. Taking hold of the side, she swings onboard and immediately parries the boy’s desperate knife cut. The attack forces her backwards, and she hangs in midair above the wagon’s spinning wheels, holding on with one hand and one foot. Knocking the boy’s gully knife aside, she brings her sica across with a twist of her wrist. The mosac’s throat opens like dough, spraying her and the driver with hot blood.

Using her sica like a gaff, she sinks its tip deep into the boy’s shoulder and drags him off the wagon. The woman rises as she leaps aboard, and Esmeree knocks her off with a kick.

Fetching the reins, she heaves backwards and eventually stops the oxen. Far behind her, she sees Hiisi finishing off the rest of the caravan. She’s too far away to plead for any captives this time.

Dismounting, she circles to the back of the wagon. Heavy cloth curtains conceal its interior. Her ember confirms the sorcerer is still inside. Holding her sica at the ready, Esmeree reaches for the curtains and hesitates. She’s never met a sorcerer this powerful before–his stone may even be larger than hers–he may be more than she can handle alone.

"Nage!" someone wails behind her in poor Northern Brackish, "Please… leave me brother alone!" The voice is strange, as though the person isn’t used to speaking the language.

Turning, Esmeree sees the wagon’s driver. Her fall has left her horribly injured. The wheels must have run her over in a couple places, crushing her arm and belly. Desperately, she tries to raise her ruined body from the ground. "Please!" she wails, "He knows nothing! He has nothing you need!"

Esmeree frowns sadly. Unfortunately, he is what she needs. As the woman collapses for the last time, Esmeree opens the curtains.

 

* * *

 

The boy is beautiful. The firelight reflects in his large eyes as he watches the coins dance in the air. How old can the mosac be? 12 years? Perhaps no older. His face, his body reminds her achingly of poor Candy. As does his blind innocence.

Tonight, he watches in wide-eyed wonder as Esmeree’s summonings cause the coins to spin before him. It is an easy spell for her now, but she is quickly caught up in his simple excitement. The two of them laugh and clap at the coins’ antics.

They sit apart from the other slugs. The smell of their misery disturbs the boy, and Esmeree is none too eager to spend time with Hiisi. Sitting close side-by-side, knees and shoulders touching, Esmeree entertains the boy with magic and stories. Just as his sister said, he does know nothing–at least, nothing of his stone’s potential. Unlike Esmeree’s at that age, the magic in this boy’s ember remains asleep. He seems blissfully unaware of the power just within his grasp.

Even Hiisi can sense the boy’s helplessness and doesn’t insist on him wearing the charm or the shackles. He seems to have no intention to escape. Somehow, for some reason, the mosac caragus is content to remain close to Esmeree.

Esmeree watches his face as the firelight illuminates his innocent rapture. He is so different from other people she’s known. He is untouched, pure. There is no cruelty in his eyes, no fear or deceit. There is nothing he wants from her that would harm her in the giving.

Plucking a silver Guilder from the air, he turns the coin over in his hands. Turning to Esmeree, he looks at her with his large eyes and offers it up to her. "I ai yä this parno-coin, brinneal-Esmeree?"

His voice has begun to crack with manhood, and he speaks a dialect of northern Brackish so remote, it is nearly Chroani. She takes the coin gently.

"Thank you, Maponos," she says, doing her best to approximate his tongue. She feels cleansed when she is near him, as though his purity and blind acceptance somehow negates all the horrible things she’s done in the past.

When he wants to, the huge Brack can move with the silence of a cat. Esmeree screams when powerful hands clamp down hard on her shoulders, pinning her arms to her sides, and lift her violently to her feet. "Ha!" Hiisi roars in her ear, "I see Guilders changin’ hands, Easy! Has our sellâria found a new patron?"

He seems to enjoy inflicting random acts of terror on others. He only uses her Cliffs Reach street name when he wants to hurt her.

Esmeree forces the trembling of shock and panic to subside before she responds. She doesn’t want to give Hiisi the satisfaction of hearing a tremor in her voice. "Jealous, my cing?" she asks. "Should I not turn my eye to the pleasures of other men?"

"Uh! Why not?" he sneers, his hand clamping down hard on her crotch, his fingers digging into the leather of her braca riding pants, "Give the poor mosac one last night of pleasure, yäh?"

Maponos looks up at them with placid eyes. He doesn’t seem to understand the performance going on between them. He didn’t even seem startled by Hiisi’s unexpected arrival.

"Enjoy her, me mosac!" he bellows, slapping the boy hard across the back of the head. "But don’t stretch her out too much with that mighty cock of yers! The rest of us will want a turn too!"

As Hiisi walks back to camp laughing, Maponos frowns and rubs at the sting on the back of his head. The sensation seems alien to him.

Esmeree crouches next to him and touches his cheek. "I’m sorry, Maponos. Please don’t listen to him."

"Yä en'k káryap for Maponos? Yä wer me?" His face brightens with a huge smile. Taking her hand in his, he nuzzles her palm with feeling. Like a Brack, he doesn’t know to kiss, but the touch sends chills through the hottest parts of Esmeree’s body. Her ember begins to burn, its animus sensing the presence of Maponos’s stone. He presses his cheek against her hand and closes his eyes. "Mat-brinneal-Esmeree," he mutters quietly. "I tunk brinneal-Esmeree."

She finds herself short of breath–she could leave her hand in his possession forever–but something Hiisi said suddenly bothers her. Rising to her feet, she gently extracts her hand from Maponos’s grip. He seems disappointed by her departure but not concerned.

She smiles down at him, "Wait here, Maponos, OK? Esmeree will be back."

"Esmeree will be back," he repeats awkwardly, obviously not understanding the meaning.

Backing away from him, she finally manages to tear her eyes away from that face and rushes back to the camp.

 

"What did you mean by that?" she demands.

Hiisi crouches by his small cooking fire, shoveling spoonfuls of Brackish embrekton into his mouth. A thick mixture of lard, halki meal, and bits of meat, it is pretty much the only dish he knows how to make (short of impaling some poor beast on a spit and burning it over a fire). It is a good thing he knows how to make it well–Esmeree has proved herself a terrible cook.

"Mean by what?" he grunts between mouthfuls.

She points back at Maponos. She can just barely make him out in the darkness, watching them with interest. "What did you mean by ‘one last night of pleasure’?"

Hiisi smiles as he stares into the fire but doesn’t stop eating.

Esmeree sits next to him and touches his shoulder. "Hiisi…"

He spits a mouthful of embrekton into the fire. The fat quickly begins to boil as the ground halki burns. "Ah," he sneers, "Sä now yä likes Hiisi again, yäh Easy? Since we picked up that braidless, raisin-calliacussed, vitchoor walkin’ dog, yä’ve only had eyes fer him."

He turns his head and scrutinizes Esmeree closely. "But now yer worried, yäh? ‘Oh, what will happen tä me sweet mosac?’ yer wonderin’." He leans forward, his face nearly touching hers, "And now yä comes back tä me, all sweetly. ‘What will the horrible Hiisi do with him?’ yäh? Hmmn… Tell me, what would you say? Yä goin’ tä charm me with yer fîgo kisses and other sellâria tricks? Yä thinkin’ Hiisi’s a cuall?"

She backs away from him slightly. "Hiisi, please. It’s not just about Maponos. There were others–"

"Oh, really?" He grins broadly, his teeth strong and yellow. "Tell me, which of the other caragus does yä care about too, uh? If I remember ‘em, maybe I’ll tells yä."

She shakes her head, "No, you don’t understand. Not just Maponos–or a couple of them–but all of them! What’s happening to them? Where are they going?"

Hiisi stares at her silently. She can sense him thinking behind those black eyes. How much does she know already? Should he lie? How much would he have to tell her to make her shut up?

She takes a shot in the dark. "Do you sell all of them to Ongram?"

Hiisi smiles again and shakes his head. "Ach, nage. He just bought the one inigena. Suppose he wanted a new dona, yäh? Three’s not enough fer the man." His eyes narrow, "Ah, yä’ve been talkin’ tä people, yäh? Maybe askin’ questions yä shouldn’t be?"

"No, no!" she says quickly, "I’ve not said a word to anyone! I know and understand the Viscount’s wishes! I’d not betray that trust!"

"Not again, at least," Hiisi mutters.

Esmeree frowns, "What… what do you mean by that?"

"Hmmn… Methinks I remember some secret message passed tä a fair lass? Some dark-haired, dusky-eyed oainjyr much like yerself?"

"No," she whispers, "Not Leaena, please."

When Hiisi smiles and shrugs his shoulders, she begins to cry. "No! Polaris promised that she wouldn’t be hurt! That you’d buy her off!"

Hiisi scratches at his braided beard and nods, "Yäh, well, that’s what Polaris wanted…" His eyes bore into Esmeree’s, "But I does what the Viscount wants, yäh?"

Esmeree sags miserably, tears blurring her eyesight. She feels Hiisi move closer to her. She can feel his breath on her cheek as he whispers in her ear, "Would yä like tä know what Jacobus says I should do if I ever thought yä were gabbin’ his secrets again? Would yä like tä know what I did with yer Leaena?"

Esmeree closes her eyes and slowly exhales. "No," she says as she wipes at the tears. She looks at him, "No. But I do want to know what’s happening to the sorcerers we catch."

Hiisi seems perplexed by her reaction. He evidently expected her to be more shaken by the news and the threat. Esmeree is happy to disappoint him.

"Not much I can tell yä, Esmeree." For a second, the Hiisi she used to like flashes in his eyes, the one that protects and respects her. "Do yä understand? Yer not meant tä know, and I’m not tä tell yä. It would come out poorly fer both of us if I did."

Esmeree frowns as she wipes away the last of her tears. "Are you afraid, Hiisi?" she asks with some awe. "Can the Viscount be that strong?"

Hiisi blinks. "The caragus are kept at the Orphan’s Bag until they are taken aboard a ship in Ceilbyrig, Esmeree. And then they are taken away from here. And that’s all yä needs tä know on the matter."

"Hiisi," she says cautiously, "This is wrong, what we’re doing. This is worse than catching fry for the Mill. You see that, yes?"

Hiisi glances behind her, and his eyes turn mean again, "I don’t know. Why don’t yä ask our young caddos here?"

Before she can turn around, slender arms gently wrap around her from behind. She can feel Maponos press his face into her hair and sigh. "Brinneal-Esmeree is gliùchd? Kwyall?"

As he embraces her, his arm brushes against her ember. She inhales sharply at the effect as images flood her mind. Maponos waving farewell as he is carried away. Esmeree standing amongst a circle of alfs. Esmeree’s body entangled with that of a beautiful man, his fine skin swirling with blue tattoos. Esmeree being cut down during a raging rain storm. Esmeree crucified before the gates of Cærimonia.

She gasps and blinks her eyes. Hiisi is glaring at her, shaking her shoulders violently. "What was that?" he demands. "What did yä say!"

Esmeree tries to free herself from his grasp, "Let go of me!"

He jerks her close to him, nearly crushing her in his grip. "WHAT DID YÄ SAY?" he bellows.

"I didn’t say anything!" she pleads desperately.

"YES YÄ DID!" His eyes are wild and truly frightening. "Yä said yä were destined tä kill me," he hisses quietly.

Esmeree feels icy fear close around her heart. "I never said such a thing," she whispers.

His gully knife appears beneath her throat. The fine edge rasps against her skin. "Yä would kill Hiisi, uh? Methinks perhaps I should kill yä now, yäh? Only a fool or a dead man leaves with an enemy alive at his back."

"Hiisi, please." Her hands clutch at his wrist, but nothing she could do would prevent that knife from plunging into her soft skin should he wish it. "I would never hurt you. Please believe that!"

Hiisi stares deeply into her eyes, and his lips part in a vicious sneer. "Yä boduus bitch!"

She feels the muscles of his arm tense, and she closes her eyes. "Please, Hiisi, no…"

"Nage!" Maponos wails. Esmeree opens her eyes to see him pulling on Hiisi’s arm. The Brack looks down at the boy with a bemused expression. "Nage! Ártimár brinneal-Esmeree! Wes not káryap brinneal-Esmeree isht pácar-Hiisi!"

Frowning, Hiisi tries to shove the boy away, but Maponos refuses to let go of the cing’s arm. He growls a warning, but the boy holds fast. Losing patience, he swings hard with his free hand, and the boy tumbles away over the cooking fire, laying in a heap on the other side of the camp.

"NO!" Esmeree screams, and her ember discharges. She instinctively summons her Hammer. The blow staggers the cing, and when he turns back to her, she sees a narrow line of blood running from a gash on his cheek.

He speculatively probes the wound with a finger and then licks away the blood. "Sä now yer summonin’ on Hiisi, uh?" She backs away quickly as he steps forward, "Mayhaps yä thinkin’ yer little tricks will do some good on me, yäh?"

He stands over her, his gully at the ready, and the two of them stare at each other in silence for a long time. Blood slowly runs down his cheek and drips on her knee. Their captured slugs and sorcerers rustle quietly in their chains, obviously wondering how this conflict between their captors will play out. Slowly, Esmeree becomes aware of Maponos’s quiet weeping nearby.

She turns her head to see him curled into a ball just outside their circle of firelight. Looking back at Hiisi, she says quietly, "He wasn’t trying to hurt you, you know. He just wanted us to stop fighting. You shouldn’t have hurt him like that."

"The mosac, uh? Yer worried about the Gock-damned mosac." He shakes his head. The fist holding the gully is shaking, and Esmeree is suddenly aware of the pain in Hiisi’s eyes. Can this be jealousy? Can he be jealous of Maponos? Of her attentions?

Is this merely covetousness? Or does the cing feel something deeper?

Sensing her realization, he cuts the air with his gully. "What the fuck do I care?" he snarls, "Bed him. Enjoy him. It doesn’t matter. Come Ceilbyrig, it ends because he ends!"

She watches him stalk away into the darkness.

 

"Poor Maponos," she whispers.

The boy trembles despite being close to her fire. With a damp cloth, she dabs at his injuries. She was never a very good nurse, but tending Hiisi’s numerous injuries over the past weeks has taught her a lot. Maponos’s cheek is split, his eye swollen and bruised from where Hiisi struck him. His shoulder and side are scratched and bleeding from his fall and tumble. Carefully, she lifts his shirt over his head and gasps at what she sees.

His slender body is beautiful. His stone, a shade larger than hers but not as well placed, throbs in his chest, just above his heart. She reaches out and stops just short of touching it. She remembers what happened when he touched hers. What would it be to lay with a sorcerer as powerful as he is? He looks down at her hand with confused curiosity.

Esmeree laughs nervously and shrugs as she pulls away. "I’m sorry, Maponos," she mutters as she goes back to cleaning his scratches.

His hand gently closes around hers, and he brings her palm up to his face. "Brinneal-Esmeree," he mutters as her nuzzles her. She shudders at his touch and the warm breath against her hand. Almost automatically, she cups the back of his head, coiling her fingers through his curly hair, and brings his face close to hers.

Again she stops short, unsure if what she wants would be best of the boy. His lips are so close to hers, she can feel his breath against them. Neither Chroani nor Brack know kissing, and Maponos frowns in confusion before laughing at their awkward position. "Smimám-Esmeree!"

Looking into her eyes, he suddenly senses her tension, and his smile fades. She pulls him against her, pressing his lips against hers. He gasps, clutching at her arms, but his resistance fades when their tongues touch. At last, his ember awakens, responding to the passion within hers. He clutches to the fabric of her shirt as she kisses his tongue, his eyes, and his throat. When she lowers her head and kisses his ember, he shudders and moans.

"What?" he gasps, eager confusion in his eyes. He is trembling. "I treme… I na yente. Nage, nage."

The air around them has thickened and glows blue in the moonlight like some Low Summer tidal pool. Motes of white light swirl around them, coalescing on their charged hair and excited skin.

Esmeree tugs at the ties of her shirt and lets the garment fall around her waist. Between her breasts, her ember shines in the glowing air. His eyes widen as he sees it for the first time, and he reaches out to touch it.

Bright sparks of pure magic arc between their bodies. She can feel the power surging, rising. Cradling his face with her hands, she falls upon him, consuming his mouth with hers, grinding her ember against his.

 

* * *

 

Iron fetters clatter in the rocking darkness. The air is thick and fetid with human misery. Collars of iron and charms of wood wrap around necks, choking away life and freedom. Vomit and human waste mix in the foul liquid swirling around ankles.

Overhead, a man bellows orders and a bell rings. Wood and rope creak in the wind.

 

Sunlight at last! So many lungs need no longer share the same breath. Air fresh to the world blows in the wind.

Pale and starving, skeletons fall from the ship and struggle for purchase in the shifting surf. Unkind and callused hands wrench them to their feet and shove them towards shore. Soldiers in terrifying masks guard the beaches. Their polearms bear razor-keen edges. Upon the beach stand two mighty griffins, the sacred likenesses carved into solid wood and colored in sea-bleached hues. Beyond, the towers of a great city reach into the sky. The soldiers wait impatiently.

 

The darkness of the cell is oppressive. Fleas and cockroaches and worse swarm out of gutters, across the floor, and through the moldy hay. Chains clink and rattle against each other.

Shouts of guards in strange languages echo through the hallways outside. Shrieks of prisoners in no recognizable language echo through the hallways outside.

 

Black canvas bags cover faces. Familiar shackles clutch at hands and wrists. The line of prisoners shuffles forward one at a time. Only the prisoner in front and behind can be felt, but the line feels endless.

The prisoner in front disappears, and rough hands stop all forward progress. Indecipherable words are barked, impatient with any incomprehension. The wait is long. A scream seems to echo endlessly.

Hands jerk forward without warning. Heat and stifling smoke choke the lungs. Many stairs to stumble down. Laid in a hard tub, thick warm liquid sucks at shoulders and hips. Arms and legs are clamped down, making resistance impossible.

Bright light blinds the eyes as the cowl is removed. Braziers burn fragrant wood and incense, filling the stone room with pale smoke. Circles of frightening characters are drawn on walls, floors, and pillars. Circles, circles, there are so many circles.

Horrible monsters carry away a young girl. She is thrown onto a pile of countless others. Her skin is gone in places. Deep gouges in her flesh betray the violations upon her body. She is thrown on to a pile of other dead. There are so many dead!

Foul drains suck away the cooling blood from the stone basin. Men in red robes, soaked in red blood, scurry around on unknown tasks.

An old man of white hair peers down. Upon his forehead, four small diamonds adorn a golden bisected circle. "Is the question prepared?" he asks. They are the first understandable words spoken in this horrible place.

There is no reply, but the old man nods. "Then let us begin."

He raises a simple knife, and Maponos shrieks as its blade plunges into his flesh.

 

* * *

 

Esmeree wakes with a start. The night is warm, but she shivers with terror. A glow still surrounds her and Maponos–tiny tongues of purple-black flame run painlessly across their bare skin–but as she watches, they slowly begin to fade. The power of their lovemaking is still thick in the air, but the memory of her vision still terrifies her.

Turning, she confirms Maponos is still next to her. His naked body lays curled against hers. His breathing is soft and peaceful.

The night is peaceful. The moon is setting, and she watches as shadows and darkness move across the moors. Her fire has long since died, but Hiisi’s cooking fire still glows weakly. Beyond, the slaves sleep fitfully. Hiisi’s black bulk lays slumped nearby. She knows she and Maponos created quite a display with their passion, and it troubles her slightly to think about how it might have made the Brack feel.

There will be repercussions, and she will deal with them in time.

She touches Maponos’s hair gently. Never could she have imagined the intensity of their coupling, the meeting of two stones of such power. What are these visions she is seeing? What are these voices? She no longer feels in control of her own body and mind. Can the Lady’s warning be coming true? Can she be losing control of her ember’s animus? Is it becoming a homunculus? The idea intrigues her as well as terrifies.

She lays back and enjoys the warmth of Maponos’s presence. This boy possesses the ability to unlock her power. At last, she feels whole. When she and he were connected, and their bodies were moving as one, she felt all barriers with her ember lifted. The power was at her fingertips.

She gently kisses the skin behind his ear and smiles when he squirms in his sleep. She will enjoy teaching him the arts of physical love. Together, they will become powerful stone summoners. They will escape these Seven Kingdoms and their oppressive Medianist doctrines. They will escape the stratagems of the Primate and the Doge and the Viscount. They will escape this onerous mission and perhaps make a home for themselves someplace friendlier, maybe in Synesi lands.

She smiles as she closes her eyes. Perhaps they will make a quick detour to Cliffs Reach and pick up Squirrel and Myrdd. Perhaps the Synesi maias could help heal her friend. Perhaps their libraries would help Myrdd regain his sanity.

Her eyes open suddenly as she realizes something is wrong. Trying not to move her head, she rolls her eyes around. In the setting moon, she saw the darkness move? How can darkness move? She listens carefully. The night sounds normal. The bells ring distantly. Whatever is happening, it doesn’t seem to be caused by rraakks.

Carefully, she reaches for her sica, and with rising panic, finds it missing. She sits up quickly and looks around. Something grabs her from behind, slapping a hand over her mouth and pressing a knife behind her ear. Power in her ember surges.

"Now, witch, we’ll have no summoning here, yäh?" a harsh voice hisses in her ear in southern Brackish. The knife presses harder, "I can kill you before you get anything off. Understand, uh?"

Esmeree nods carefully, and her captor chuckles with satisfaction. She is forced to watch as bagaudas shrouded in darkness steal into their encampment. Hiisi is a mighty cing warrior, but asleep and unprepared, he is no match for the ambush.

Soon, their own shackles bind her and Hiisi, one of the Viscount’s charms wrapped around her neck. As the slaves are freed, the haze of darkness around their captors fades. Standing before Esmeree is a tall Brackish woman. Bone and shards of wood pierce her lips and cheeks. Her hair lays wildly across her shoulders, and other bits of wood driven through her scalp give her the appearance of wearing antlers. Her face is painted in the Chroani way, making her visage even more ferocious. Dark red Brackish tattoos circle a mole on her cheek, and Esmeree realizes quickly that it is the woman’s stone.

At her side stands Maponos, a vaguely concerned expression on his face. They have wrapped him in blankets, though he is still naked underneath.

"I am Aggteb," she barks in thick Brackish-accented Palpi, "Gwrach to Rixueramos Naw of Ve’coDusios. We are tä take yä tä Ve’coDusios fer judgement. I tells yä this only as a courtesy accordin’ tä Johlpa’s Laws of War, sä yä may knows the face of yer captors. Such a courtesy yä have refused yer own prisoners."

She hefts the set of shackles in her hand and looks at Hiisi. "We thank yä, luct-marvos," she spits with contempt, "fer the means tä safely transport yä and yer adgarios."

Hiisi doesn’t reply. Chained and on his knees, he still seems more potent than the Brack warriors around him. By his demeanor, it seems they still live only because he allows it. Despite her fear and nakedness, Esmeree tries to draw strength from him.

Aggteb looks from Esmeree to Maponos and then bends to speak to the boy. "She is a powerful sorcerer, yäh?" she asks him in Southern Brackish.

Maponos doesn’t understand and merely blinks at her. His silence seems to concern her, and she stands with a frown. With a gesture, their former slaves approach.

Hiisi glances at Esmeree from the corner of his eyes and hisses in excellent Muttese, "Speak nothing of our mission. If you wish to live, say nothing. To speak is to seal your fate, understand?"

The gwrach doesn’t seem to understand him, but his speaking out still annoys her. She steps forward and kicks him in the stomach. With a quiet groan, he falls forward.

"Yä have committed great crimes, yäh?" Aggteb screams at Esmeree in Palpi. "Now is time tä reap the rewards, uh?"

Each slave is allowed to rain blows upon her and Hiisi, a small payment for the harm they inflicted on them and their fallen kind. Hiisi never flinches, never cries out, but Esmeree quickly crumbles beneath the hail of fists and kicks. She howls with fear and agony.

The gwrach smiles, "Scream, inigena, fer this is only the beginnin’."

Maponos weeps silently as he watches