Chapter 38
The morning warmth glowed from the sun peak, rising higher and higher bringing more silver light to the world, as Lelia stretched in her bed. She rubbed her eyes blearily, before sitting up, the blanket falling from her naked body. She swung her feet over the bed, and grimaced, sucking in a deep breath as her broken foot touched the floor. Her heart fell into her stomach, as the last vestiages of the dream world melted away, and she looked down upon her naked body, her right breast, shriveled, bubbled scorched black. A hideous, ruinous breast that made her want to cut if off entirely. She shivered in disgust and the sense of crushing inevitability that weighed on her every time she was reminded of why her body was ruined. A sob choking in her throat, she picked up a pillow and hurled it at the mirror, knocking it over and causing it to shatter upon the floor. Lelia sat stunned, and wide eyed, not having meant to actually break the thing.
Her door opened immediately after, and a concerned head popped into her room, followed by the thudding of armored feet as the first was pushed into the room, followed by one of her guards. "Lady Lelia! Are you okay?" He asked, scanning the room for intruders. His eyes fell upon her naked body, and he paused. He blinked several times in rapid succession, before snapping to attention and bowing deeply. "M-My apologies Lady Lelia. I had thought there was an intruder. I shall leave you to your morning." And with a sharp stomp of his foot, he turn about and marched out of the room.
November 24th, 2021
November 24th, 2021
"I am so sorry My Lady!" The lady in waiting said bowing deeply. "He charged right past me before I had my wits about me."
"It's okay." Lelia said as she felt a shudder run down her spine, and gasped an unintended sob, tears falling from her eyes unbidden. She moved to cover herself, a hand upon her mouth as she wept. All the fear and self loathing and shame boiled up all at once, and she could hide it no longer. The lady in waiting hurried over and, sitting upon the bed next to Lelia, she cast her arms about her, and held her in her embrace, Lelia sobbing into her shoulder.
"It's not okay." The lady in waiting said quietly. "Something this awful should never have happened to you. Zechariah deserves a lot worse than slavery for what he did to you."
Lelia shook her head, shivering, as she spoke through broken voice. "It's not his fault. And it's more than just the injury Volmina. It's, that thing. Whatever resides within him it is not of this world. It's truly a demon, and it terrifies my very soul. How can life persist in the presence of such an existence?"
Author's Note, write a scene during the journey between Stormridge and Uthar, where the servants all eat together, so Zechariah can meet some of the Sundman household's dynamics.
Author's Note, write a scene during the journey between Stormridge and Uthar, where the servants all eat together, so Zechariah can meet some of the Sundman household's dynamics.
Volmina shushed Lelia, patting her head and cooing softly. "I do not know what you saw My Lady, but I know that you are here, and not it. So no matter how terrible it may be, you had victory over it. You have strength over it, for you are Lady Sundman, of the Norgraithians." She said as she rested her forehead against Lelias, holding her gently. "You are stronger than any woman I've known."
"Thank you." Lelia said in a shuddering, raspy breath. "Thank you for your kind words. You have ever been there to support me in my weakness."
"And ever shall I be." Volmina said softly. "Now then, deep breaths my lady. We must get you washed up and fed before the day starts. I'm afraid you have much to get to." She said in a lightly sunny tone as she wiped Lelia's cheeks free of tears.
Lelia smiled despite herself and hugged Volmina for a moment, before pulling away. "Yes, you are right. Draw up my bath and, once you have breakfast ready for me also, I need you to scribe a few letters for me."
"At once My Lady." Volmina said, hurrying off to do as bidden. Lelia rubbed her eyes dry, and stood shakily upon one foot. She hopped over to a water keg that was kept full of fresh water each day, and drank some of the cold fresh water from the ladle. She considered pouring some over her, but figured that she would soon be having a bath anyway, so there was no need to rush it and make a mess. Barely had she made the decision to not douse herself in water, than did the door get flung open wide once more, and in rushed six serving women. Having already anticipated her needs, a bathing tub was quickly dragged into the room and along with a steady line of boiling hot water which was then poured into the tub to be cooled with fresh water. In short order, Lelia had her bath ready, a side table with breakfast laid out upon it and, to her amazement, a freshly crafted wooden contraption that hooked itself onto the edge of the tub, and provided her with a broader surface to lean upon, and help herself in and out of the tub unaided.
"You are all so thoughtful. Thank you." Lelia said tearing up again, and the servants curtsied to her.
"Had someone carve it soon as we got back. Took him a bit to get it right, but we got it too you soon as we could." Volmina said sweetly as she shooed the other servants out of the room. Keeping an eye on Lelia lest she fall, Volmina went about setting up a quill and ink and parchment, ready to write anything down should Lelia require it.
Slowly, Lelia sat upon the edge of the smoothly sanded wood, and carefully, lifted a leg up and over the edge of the tub. Holding onto the handles the wooden attachment provided, she lowered herself into the dub, sighing deeply as she submerged herself in the hot water. She floated for a bit, closing her eyes and trying to let the chaotic moments of her morning pass. She winced and hissed through her teeth, as her belly began to cramp. That explained it. As the pain passed Lelia groaned and curled herself up in the soothing water. "Always has the worst timing."
"I'll make sure that the servants know to bring you extra undergarments as needed." Volmina said preemptively.
Lelia sighed. "Thank you." She said, reaching for the freshly sliced mangos. "What missives do I have this morn?" She asked as she slurped the delicious juicy meat of the mango into her mouth and bit the portion in two.
"Quite an assortment of good, bad and neither today. Which would you like to hear first?" Volmina asked.
Lelia shrugged as she ate the second bite of mango. "Whichever is most important. Good or bad or neither." Lelia replied.
"As you wish." Volmina said as she flipped through the papers. "Lets see. Here's one that's pretty important. The coroner wishes to speak with you in private as soon as is convenient for your ladyship. Likely to discuss the corpses we brought in My Lady."
"Good, I've been hoping that would come. Set it aside for now, and lets go on."
"Very well." Volmina said as she flicked through more till she pulled out another. "We have two here that are similar. The first is from the Court Arcanist. Says that he has received your missive and would wish to see you later this afternoon should you find yourself to be amenable. The second comes from the Runesmith. Says he wishes to consult you the results of your journey."
"Yes, him first Volmina." Lelia said. "I shall see the Runesmith as soon as I am ready this morn. And write to the Court Arcanist and ask him if would wish to share lunch with me."
"As you wish My Lady." Volmina said subserviently and begun to write a short missive to the Court Arcanist. She scratched away at the paper quickly, as Lelia soaked in the tub, snacking on the assorted fruits and sweet vegetables that made up her meal. In short order, Volmina lit a candle, and melted sealing wax onto the missive, and picking up Lelia's family ring, she pressed a seal to the missive. "Would you wish me to go fetch the Runemaster as soon as you dismiss this morning?"
"No. First the Coroner I think. Then the Runesmith. Unless there is anything else?" Lelia asked.
"Yes My lady. Some. I have a missive here from the guard saying that the prisoner is not coping well, and is concerned about his welfare. There are also an assortment of greetings and welcomes to you from various of the nobility, most notably his Excellency. And a letter from King Aurvan. He says that he must depart for the front line in short order, and would like to dine with you before he must sail."
"King Aurvan? He's in Uthar?" Lelia exclaimed, splashing water around as she sat up straight.
"It appears so My Lady. It appears the war effort has brought King Aurvan to visit Uthar to better aid in the strategizing and defense against the Draconian invasion. He must have arrived while we were searching for the last rune carving."
"Yes!" Lelia exclaimed. "I most definitely want to dine with him. This evening if possible. That would be wonderful!" She said lighting up happily.
"I shall make sure to inform him as soon as possible My Lady." Volmina said smiling broadly at seeing Lelia come alive in such a way.
November 25th, 2021
November 25th, 2021
"And, as for the prisoner, tell the guards to escort him to the training yards once a day. He must remain restrained, and only for a quarter rise in the morn." Lelia instructed, though it left a pit in her stomach. She felt horrible for having to treat Zechariah this way, and worse yet, justified. She hated that feeling most of all. She ate another bite of fruit, but it tasted bitter in her mouth, her appetite fading.
"As you wish. Anything else my Lady?" Volmina asked.
"Yes, I want you to scribe a letter to his Excellency for me." Lelia said, sinking down into tub. She thought for a moment, and waited as Volmina prepared a new parchment, and dipped the quill into the ink. "Your Excellency, High King of Umar, I submit unto you my most humble greetings, and thank you sincerely for your kind welcome home."
It was setting up to be a hot day, and down in the winding city streets of the less reputable alleys, the winds from the Turmoilt rarely blew, so the stench of refuse, human waste and decomposition hung heavily in the air, clogging the throats and nose with their clawing revulsion. Gerb hopped along, breathing deeply the putrid odors. It smelled better than a wagon full of decaying bodies at least. Or rather, it just smelled more familiar. He wasn't entirely sure which it was as he hopped along, dodging the slowly flowing sludge of waste through the streets. He smirked as they passed a particularly pungent pile of refuse and heard Nevakko gag and retch, quickly covering his mouth with a cloth as he did so. They turned down this alley and that, and eventually, Gerb stopped at the entrance to one. This was the alley. This was the place. His heart pounded through his chest and he felt suddenly dizzy. Thirty revolutions, was a long time. They were dead for all he knew.
Just before Nevakko said anything, Gerb resumed hopping, one sturdy thump after another, as he made his way down the alley. The people out and about ignored him. Just another cripple, just another beggar. He had passed several who looked just like him on the way here. There were lays against begging from the wealthy. The poor had to beg from each other. Of course, some few daring and stronger beggars had choice locations near wealthier parts of town where the begging was at it's best. But most of the weaker and more destitute, could not out run the guards that came to beat them. Finally, there it was. A crooked door on a building that looked on the verge of collapse, just like all the other around it. It looked identical to the others, but Gerb knew the grain of the wooden door, the chips in the walls, the faded paint. It was worse than when he had left it, but it was the same none the less.
Nevakko looked it up and down, brow furrowed as he considered his surroundings. This, this was Gerb's home? It was shit. And yet as he studied Gerb's face, mixed in with the fear and anxiety of returning home after so long, was love. Familiarity. This was his little portion of the world. The portion he had been banished from. Nevakko watched Gerb as he raised a shaky hand up to the door, and rapped on it firmly with his large meaty hands.
A lady came to the door, and Gerb's face fell. "Who're ya?" The lady asked with a thick accent, clearly a Norgraithian.
"I'm looking for Engla. She's not here is she?" Gerb asked, face falling.
"Nope. Person I got the house from wasn't named Engla either. Tofun was his name. Little dwarven fella. I been here twelve revolutions. No idea how long he was here afore me."
"Thank you. Have a good day." Gerb said as he turned, head hung and began to hop away. Nevakko following after.
"Who's this Engla to you anyway?" The lady called out after him.
Gerb ignored her, and she shrugged her shoulders, closing the door behind her as the two of them made their way out of the alley.
"What now?" Nevakko asked.
"We find them. That is what we were tasked with doing. It was a long shot that they would still be here." Gerb said with determination.
"I understand that, but where do we look for them next?"
"There was an old man, off the corner of Harrow street. Begged there for years. He used to have his more down to the ground than any other man I knew. He might know where they are."
"If he was an old man when you knew him, he's probably dead by now." Nevakko stated simply. "What then?"
"Then we ask another!" Gerb said loudly, growing frustrated. "And we keep asking till either someone forcefully stops us from asking, or we find them."
Nevakko glared at Gerb, grabbing the hem of his shirt, hands near his hidden knives, but kept silent. They hurried on, Gerb maintaining an impressive pace, fast enough to keep Nevakko strutting at a steady speed to keep up.
They made their way out of the more impoverished area of Uthar, and towards the aforementioned Harrow street, whence the smells of the slums faded, and more rich scents took their place. The scents of sweet fruits, spices and perfume that emanated from the middle class. The nobility rarely wore such pungent odors as it was overwhelming but, when living as neighbors in the streets, the moderately wealthy doused themselves in perfumes to help stave off the stench of the streets. Gerb hadn't noticed it before but now, having been so recently in the presence of nobility, and street feces, it was an affront to the senses.
Along Harrow street, there were several beggars mixed among the more crowded bustle of civilians. Harrow street was located near the Gate's Market, only a few streets away. The pedestrians were largely shoppers, coming and going from picking up their wares and trading, and occasionally tossing coins to the few favored beggars. Some of the more ambitious individuals set up small markets of their own here on Harrow street. Though it was technically illegal, few people rarely policed the street, accepting it more as a lower-class market than the Gate's Market, where one could by lower quality, and questionable, goods. Why buy lower quality and questionable goods? Price.
November 26th, 2021
November 26th, 2021
Things that were starting to sour, or go off, or things that were simply not selling well, could be bargained from the Gate's Market at extreme discounts, and then resold on Harrow street for a small profit. This was, in short, the Beggars Market. The merchants from Gate's Market usually ran off beggars and the like, believing them to be unworthy of generosity. They would rather see their wares spoiled than give it for free. So the few ambitious beggars who made enough money to purchase the spoiled wares at discounted prices, set themselves up as traders for the poor and destitute. There was however, no generosity or hospitality. If you were likely to be beaten by a licensed merchant, you were stabbed to death by a beggar's merchant. They guarded their wares like a hungry hound, and though they bellowed out their wares to the pedestrians, many held wooden cudgels in their hands openly, others still brandished knives. One was welcome only if they brought drops.
Gerb and Nevakko passed the beggar merchants shouting their wares loud at the top of their lungs, some going red in the face with the effort to drown out the other merchants, shouting "FOUL!" at the top of their lungs, stirring their large pots of beans. Beggars came from far and wide to spend their hard earned copper drops here. One drop for two loaves of stale unleavened bread and a ladle full of Foul. Honestly, it wasn't half bad food. If the bread wasn't stale and the beans were souring. But Gerb suspected that Lelia would throw a fit if she was required to dine upon this exquisite impoverished experience.
Gerb stopped as the came to the end of the street, and he looked around running a hand through his sweating hair and growled in frustration. The old man wasn't here. He looked around and chose a beggar at random, and approached him.
"Aleen's blessings upon you." Gerb began with a common religious greeting. Though he didn't particularly worship the gods himself, it was better to be common and forgetful, than stand out just yet. Or so he thought.
"Spare drops?" The beggar said with an accent, reaching up and extending both his hands. "Please, no food. Starving death."
"I'm sorry friend, I have no drops to spare. I'm just looking for someone. Have you seen an old man, used to beg on the corner here, where you now sit."
The beggar looked away from them, and reached out to another passing civilian. "Drops, spare drops for starving!" He called out, pleading pitifully, and ignoring Gerb.
"Hey. The old man? Do you know him? Do you know where he is?"
The beggar ignored him, begging around him as though he was not there. Gerb ground his teeth growing frustrated and hopped forward scowling. Nevakko stepped forward quickly, and put a hand on Gerb's shoulder, gently shaking his head. Nevakko squatted down, and met the beggars eyes. "Al'harrabu 'ana 'ahkum ealayk bialeadl wal'iinsaf." Nevakko said smoothly, surprising the beggar. The beggar paused, for a moment, before placing a hand over his heart and bowing towards Nevakko, repeating the greeting in his native language.
"You're a Dustman?" Gerb asked looking upon the Captain with new eyes. "I suppose that's explains your name."
"I'm not a Dustman." Nevakko said flatly looking up at him. "I am Ghabar Rijali. Now, what did you want to ask this man?"
"Old man. Used to beg where he sat. Does he know where he is?" Gerb asked pushing aside his own curiosity for later.
Nevakko translated to the beggar, and the beggar rubbed his ragged beard, nodding. He replied with a long soliloquy speaking so rapidly that it sounded oddly musical as pitch and tone shifted rapidly. Nevakko nodded along quietly the whole time, listening intently.
"Well? What does he say?" Gerb asked impatiently.
Nevakko looked up at him sighing. "He says that he is starving, and can think of nothing else while his belly rumbles and his pouch remains empty. He said this is Harrow street, where nothing is free but everything is for sale."
Gerb ground his teeth, grumbling as he reached into his pants and pulled his draw belt around to the slit where he pressed two fingers into this drop pouch and selected a copper drop, and discreetly tried to give it to the beggar so that no other beggars would see this act of charity. The beggar took the coin, spouting his thanks and praise in his native tongue, with many utterances of 'Al'harrabu'. "Well?" Gerb asked again.
Nevakko pressed the beggar for some more information, and they talked back and forth a short time, Gerb standing dumbly and irritated at being left out of the conversation. After a short time, the beggar reached up open hands again, and looked expectantly at Gerb. "He knows the man, and can show us where he spends his days, for four more copper."
"Four!" Gerb exclaimed looking offended.
"You're a slave Ge...You're a slave." Nevakko said as he caught himself before revealing Gerb's name. "You don't own any drops. And this is a small price to pay, no?" Nevakko reasoned.
Gerb growled and reached into his pouch once again, pulling forth four more drops, and handing them over covertly to the beggar, though he doubted he managed to hide it from any observant beggar. The man clasped the drops greedily and nodded vigorously. He stood quickly, and beckoned to them to follow, and took off at a hurried pace. Sweating, and already tired from the day's exercise, Gerb saved his breath for complaining later, and hurried after the man, Nevakko keeping pace more easily.
Through the narrow streets of Uthar the beggar led them, always remained many paces ahead. Nevakko tried at several times to get the beggar to slow down, but the man seemed to determined to lead them while maintaining a long lead, often turning the corner to an alley mere moments after Gerb and Nevakko entered the alley and spotted him. Gerb was sure he was being scammed, but Nevakko seemed to trust the rapscallion, and so Gerb continued on, moving further and further away from the areas he knew well. Steadily, the streets became less populated, and once again more filled with scum and yet onwards they went. Just when Gerb was about to call a halt to this rapid pace and insane goose chase, they turned a final alley to see the beggar standing idly in front of a gate with a large black bell hanging from the archway, no rope attached to ring it. A gate to a ziggurat. A ziggurat of Gorgoth. The beggar pointed to the wall of the dead, and Gerb's heart fell.
Hopping forward Gerb entered the gated temple, and nodded his silent greeting to the priests robed entirely in black who maintained the place. Not even their faces showing. Male or female, it mattered not to Gorgoth, the god of death and disease, for when life ends, all rot and return to the ground from which they were born. As Gerb approached the wall of the dead, the beggar picked up a stone and hurled it at the great bell, before bowing to Nevakko, hand on his heart, and then dashing off. Gerb furrowed his brow in confusion before turning back to the wall. The wall was the outer bottom floor of the ziggurat, upon which the names of all the dead who were buried inside were listed. First by Revolution, then by name.
"That makes more sense." Nevakko said approaching Gerb. "He kept saying, 'He rests for ten revolutions.' I guess he meant he died ten revolutions ago."
"I don't read well." Gerb said shamefully. "Can you find him? Sott. I don't know his family name."
Nevakko studied the wall for some time, before pointing to a name. "Yeah. He's here. What now."
Gerb furrowed his brow, thinking hard. "He's the new informant." Gerb said thoughtfully. "The bell. He alerted someone."
"So...we run?" Nevakko asked, his eyes darting about, looking for danger.
"No." Gerb said, leaning his back against the ziggurate and falling down to the floor, panting and breathing heavily. "No, we wait."
"Never did like all the cloak and dagger shit." Nevakko said as he leaned against the ziggurat, crossing his arms. "At least we have a wall to our backs."
Gerb nodded, catching his breath. "Someone should come, and we'll have to deal with them. Things have changed a lot since I was last in Uthar. Never used this location before."
"You think your old friends are still in power? Criminal world changes pretty fast no?" Nevakko asked wiping sweat from his brow.
"Yeah." Gerb said grimly. "All my contacts are probably all dead or forcefully retired. But, you can do business with the underground without really being a part of things. They'll try to rope you in, so you have to be careful what deals you strike, but there's two currencies. Draws, or deals. Deals are usually fiscally cheaper, which is why a lot of people take them. But they're what gets you stuck in the underground, so if we can, we use draws."
"Good to know." Nevakko stated. "I'm not making any deals. I'm not selling myself to the underground."
"We might not have a choice." Gerb said.
"We're not selling ourselves to the underground. That's non-negotiable. It is better to fail in our mission, than to have our allegiances torn. If we can't find them this way, we'll find them another way."
November 27th, 2021
November 27th, 2021
"It's not your family on the line." Gerb said coldly. "I'll do what it takes."
Nevakko frowned, "Remember what I said." he said in a warning tone.
"Same to you." Gerb replied.
Just as Gerb was about to say more, a gentle whisper of a voice interrupted him. "May I help you gentlemen?" A dark robbed priest of Gorgorth said softly.
Gerb glanced up at Nevakko, and they shared a brief look before Gerb nodded to the newcomer. "Old friend of mine seems to have gone missing. I came here to pay my respects to him. Did you know him? Old man Sott?"
"Ah yes." The priest said bowing his entirely cloaked form. "Old man Sott, he rests for ten revolutions. Would you like to see him?"
Nevakko frowned and pointed at the name on the wall. "Pretty dusty by now I should think. Is it common for the priests of Gorgoth to show the dead to anyone who wonders in?"
"Only those who know to ring the bell. You don't have to see him. It was only an offer." The man said, bowing low once again, making to leave.
"We'll see him." Gerb said standing up with the help of his crutch. "We'll see him. If you lead us the way?"
The dark robbed man nodded, not even his eyes visible beneath his veil, as he turned and led the way towards the entrance of the ziggurat. Up a steep slope of steps they climbed, high into the sun and wind of the Turmoilt. After a grueling work out of hopping up hundreds of stairs, Gerb was feeling about ready to collapse, before he stood at the summit of the ziggurat. There, he looked out around him, at the twisting streets and alleys of Uthar, and took a deep breath of the fresh air from this height, stilling his heart and trying to regain some composure, as he turned to follow the priest down into the belly of the ziggurat. First floor, passing those deemed worthy enough to enter the temple to worship. Second floor, for those who came to offer sacrifices. Third floor, for the devoted of Gorgoth who served in the temple. Fourth floor and below, were rows upon rows of urns piled onto shelves, and plaques in the wall which denoted the family to which the sarcophagi belonged. Down and down the priest led Gerb and Nevakko, till Gerb was sure that he would perish in the depths of the ziggurat for he saw no way he could climb back up all those winding stairs.
Eventually, they reached the bottom of the ziggurat, and in a dimly lit hall, with a black curtain at the end. The priest nodded, and waved them onward. Pausing only for the briefest of moments, Gerb and Nevakko continued on, pushing aside the curtain.
They stood, in a room. A bedroom to be more precise. Golden ornaments lined the walls and shelves and dressers, vases of immense value, and ornate carvings. Everything had a shade of black behind it, the gold and precious stones being the only things in the room which reflected the dim light from the candles, to illuminate in a sparkling glow, a black curtained bed, upon which a frail man rested.
"Holy shit." Gerb muttered quietly. "He's still alive."
"That's Sott? Wait, has he really been resting for ten revolutions?" Nevakko asked, but Gerb didn't answer. He gripped his crutch firmly, and hopped on over to the bed. As he approached the old man, he noticed that the shadows of the bed were inhabited by dark priests who stood silently, guarding Sott, and as Gerb approached, the old man opened his dreary eyes slowly.
"Gerb." He said in a frail rasp. "It's good to see you again Gerb." He said, looking out but, not quite looking at Gerb.
"You're alive." Gerb said bluntly as ever.
Sott wheezed a laugh, more a haggard cough than a laugh. "Alive?" He asked sardonically. "Is that what this is? No one has told me what I am for a long time."
"Since when did you become the mouth Sott?" Gerb asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Going from informant to speaker, is a pretty big jump."
"When did I become the mouth?" Sott repeated, his eyes wandering off to search the ceiling. "I'm not the mouth Gerb. Nor the speaker. Those times have passed. I am, as I have always been. The informant."
"Then, what's with this setup? Why all the cloak and dagger?" Gerb asked.
"Because I'm too feeble to do it on the streets, and because it no longer matters if people know who I am. If they want to torture me for information, they'll get nothing, as I'll simply perish, before they can get anything from me. I'm too feeble these days. So here I am, master of secrets, rotting away in the depths of Gorgoth's hell."
"It's good to see you again." Gerb said, and Sott looked at him with piercing eyes, for the first time.
"I wish I could say the same to you."
"What do you mean?" Gerb asked confused.
Sott raised his arms, and threw back the cover to his bed, revealing twisted and broken legs that jutted at weird angles, and hands whos fingers hand all been torn out of their sockets, leaving him with useless scarred stumps that wiggled and twitched grotesquely. "Might you know, who did this to me?" Sott asked rhetorically, not waiting for Gerb to answer. "You know who tortured me for information as to where you fled."
A shudder ran down Gerb's spine. "My family. Did you tell him about my family?" Gerb asked stepping forward. "Tell me you didn't tell him about my family!" Gerb said before a shadow suddenly stood between him and Sott, and sent Gerb flying with a deft kick of his crutch and a push on his chest. Gerb fell to the floor, catching himself and scrambling up to his one knee. "Tell me you didn't." He begged.
"I held my tongue." Sott said quietly. "No torturer has ever gotten a word from me. No matter what they do. I wouldn't be here if I broke under interrogation." He said pulling the blanket back over him with some effort.
"Thank you Sott. Thank you." Gerb said, dropping his head, as his heart beat loudly in his ears.
"Don't be so quick to thank me Gerb. I didn't do it for you." Sott said, his voice, growing sinister, and more whisper than before. "I suspect that you desire to know the where abouts of your family. But I consider you in debt to me Gerb, so if you want to know the location of your family, you have to do something for me first."
"Gerb." Nevakko said in concern.
Gerb looked over his shoulder at Nevakko, scowling, before turning back to Sott. "What must I do to see my family?"
"Gerb!" Nevakko said stepping forward, only to be suddenly faced by nine moving shadows that stepped forward also.
"Do I have your word you'll do my bidding?" Sott asked.
Gerb shook his head. "Not yet Sott. Tell me first what kind of business you need me to do, then I can decide whether or not I can do your bidding.
Sott thought for a moment before saying, "Nothing more than you were ever best at. I need a man dead. That is all. One more match, one more sacrificial rite of bloody fists, and your debt to me and the underground is free."
"You can promise me this?" Gerb said looking up. "You can promise me a clean slate?"
Nevakko clenched his fists tightly, his teeth ground as he fought the desire to step forward and stop Gerb.
"One more kill." Sott said nodding slowly, "That is all."
Gerb thought for a long moment, looking back at Nevakko, then the ground, before raising his head once more before Sott. "Might I, request some time to think upon it?"
Sott scowled at this. "You have till dawn tomorrow. No later."
Gerb bowed and then took up his crutch again. "You'll have my answer by then."
"Who is it?" Nevakko asked. "Who do you want him to kill?"
Gerb shot him an angry look, and Sott scoffed. "You don't need to know that. It doesn't matter. One more kill, is all it takes. Doesn't matter who it is."
"Of course it matters!" Nevakko said angrily. "He can't accept a commission on..."
"Nevakko." Gerb said turning around. "That's enough. We're going."
Nevakko wanted to argue, but Gerb planted his crutch firmly on the floor, and began to hop out the way they came in. "This is ridiculous." Nevakko said sourly as they passed the priest who guided them in, and up the long steps, to leave the Ziggurat, and the company of Sott, the Master of secrets.
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