When the blindfold was removed, Daezin sat on the floor in a room. Yep. A room was about all that could be said about it. It had four wood walls in a square-like shape, a dirt floor, and no windows. Oh, and it had a chair. A plain wooden chair occupied by a balding man dressed in bright orange velvet. Lurking behind his left shoulder was the man-mountain. And now that Daezin saw him again, he should have “henchman” tattooed across his forehead. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. Maybe because the flame with a face hadn't sat in front of him before.

“Greetings, young lady. We need to have a little chat. Before Vigesh here has a little fun with you.” His voice was oddly high pitched and if he giggled at the end of his speech, Daezin would only count it normal. For him.

Daezin's reply was equally as eloquent but not physically possible. However, she had a gag in her mouth and Daezin had to hope this guy could read the expression on her face.

“Yes. Well.” So he could read her face. Good. He signaled Vigesh and the gag was removed.

Daezin stretched and contorted her face for several moments but still couldn’t get rid of the taste of gag. “Water?”

“Haven’t you had enough? You can have more after we have our discussion.” He leaned closer and said, “Why were you eavesdropping on Vigesh earlier this evening?”

“I wasn’t—“

“Don’t try to lie to me. I know you were listening in. What I want to know is why and how did you know about that meeting.” He produced a silver box no bigger than the palm of his hand and flicked it open.

“Who are you?”

“Let’s just call me Lord and move this along. I’ve plans for the evening that you’ve interrupted.” He pinched some powder between two manicured fingers and sniffed it. “Now answer the question before Vigesh makes this unpleasant for you.”

Daezin stole a moment to gather her thoughts by shifting around on the floor, looking for a position of comfort. Comfort was fleeting with her limbs tied tight enough to make her hands and feet throb with the lack of blood flow. Daezin locked her gaze onto his watery green one and lied her ass off. “Lord. It was a crime of opportunity. I was there for a dice game when your boy came in, all lurky and furtive. I was curious. And that fellow what was waiting for him was no better. He nursed a single drink for at least half an hour and practically jumped every time the door opened. So of course I listened in when they started talking. I’m a normal woman.” Hefler might disagree with that. "And besides, maybe what they said would be worth something to someone, seeing as how they were going through so much trouble to hide their business.” Truth mixed with the lie always helps and besides Daezin still couldn’t forget the coin she had missed out on from their cryptic conversation. “And then when your boy here pulled that bit of sparkle out of his pocket, I had to take a look at it. Find out what it was. Maybe it was worth something.” She shrugged. “But it looked way too unique to lift and sell. Besides, copper isn’t worth enough to warrant the trouble.”

“I see. Greed motivated you to eavesdrop.” He leaned back and crossed one leg over the other.

“Of course. Have you checked the weight of my purse lately? I lost money during that dice game. I lost a lot of money during that game. And if you knew my brother, you’d know why I cannot go home empty handed.” Lord was buying it. He was actually buying it.

“Vigesh, are you buying this?”

Vigesh’s voice rumbled like gravel poured from a wheelbarrow. “No, milord. I don’t.”

Curse you, Vigesh and the horse you... walked in next to. It probably took a very special horse to carry Vigesh.

“I’m not believing it either. I’d give you to Vigesh to play with now but I need to know who else knows about this evening’s business. And so, we’ll do this another way.” Lord stood and sauntered to the far side of the room. Vigesh moved the chair. Lord flopped back into it and took another hit of snuff. Vigesh disappeared through the single door at the end of the room.

Sweat built up beneath Daezin's collar and under her bindings; she was mostly sure it wasn’t due to the heat this time. Lord and Vigesh made a good team when it came to intimidation. But Daezin would never give up Hefler. She had to wrap her mind around the idea of torture and eventual death. Or maybe the ropes would miraculously loosen and she’d escape with a dazzling display of fisticuffs.

When Daezin saw who Vigesh brought into the room, she doubled her efforts to escape her bonds.

The man who came in had steel-grey hair that trailed down over naked shoulders and ended above a dirty hide wrapped around bony hips. His ribs marched down his skinny torso under a waterfall of curved beads. By far his most noticeable feature were the tattoos. Swirling whorls of color -- blue, green, and black -- covered every exposed inch of skin from his broad forehead on down to his horny toenails.

Daezin doesn’t believe in magic, at least not the real kind, but this guy made her reevaluate her belief system. Hmm, I wonder how long it would take Hefler to draw tattoos like that on me? She was always on the lookout for a new con but if the expressions on the men’s faces were any indication, she’d told her last lie.

The men exchanged a few words in a completely unfamiliar language. Not one word came through and somehow that made her more nervous.

“My employee, Zhizhen, has a certain set of skills that come in most handy in situations like this.”

“What skills?” Daezin was proud that her voice didn’t waver. Much.

“Magic.”

Daezin couldn’t help it. She laughed. Lord glared, Vigesh scowled, and the ‘magician’ just stared. He didn't understand the joke either.

Lord snapped out an order and Zhizhen padded forward. He stalked her like a cat after a mouse. And Daezin scrambled backwards. It wasn’t easy with her hands and ankles tied but she managed. Stubborn that way. But the effort was futile. One more shift and she hit the wall. Daezin pushed herself back against the splintered wood and hoped that somehow she’d leak out through the seams. Zhizhen continued his even strut until he loomed in all his skinny tattooed glory.

He pulled a stained wooden bowl from a furry sack tied to his waist and a knife from the small of his back. The knife didn’t look right. It wasn’t metal. If forced to identify it, she would say that it was the claw of a very large predator. A predator Daezin prayed she’d never have the occasion to meet.

Zhizhen swung the knife and a line of blood oozed up on her forearm. And then Daezin felt the sting.

“Ow!” Bound feet kicked at the skinny man and connected with his knee, and he fell to the other one. And smiled. His smile looked like gravestones in a very old cemetery, crooked, unequally spaced, and rotting. Daezin so did not like that smile.

The man grabbed her arm and held it over his bowl until precisely three drops fell into it. Then he stood and stepped back half a pace. With a loud cough, he spat into the bowl and then stirred the mess with his finger. Daezin nearly heaved out the ale and two bites of greasy stew she ate earlier. Oh no he didn't.

“All right. I’ll talk. No need to do whatever you’re going to do to me. I’m sure I can remember where I heard about the meeting if you just give me a minute.”

The tattooed man began to chant; sharp clicks mixed with low droning notes. Very odd. He didn’t pause at all at her words. Lord and Vigesh just stared at the man; Vigesh with a slight smile on his face and Lord, a bit on the bored side. He flicked the lid of his snuff box open and closed. Snick. Snick.

“Hey. Is anyone listening to me? It was a rat-nosed man on the street selling information. I don’t know his name but he sold me the information for two silver.” Desperation gave her voice an edge, and volume, but nothing changed. “Listen to me.” She shouted.

The flick of an eyelid indicated Mister Lord heard but he didn’t do anything to stop the show. This guy made Daezin's shows look like amateur hour. Fear danced down her spine, her bladder muscles clenched, and the acrid scent of her own sweat filled her nose.

The chanting stopped. Everything fell silent. Not a breath taken. Not a pinch of snuff snorted. Silence.

Zhizhen dipped his index finger into the bowl and reached toward her face. Blood and spit glistened on the end of his finger. And Daezin. Just. Lost. It.

Daezin writhed like a mad woman. She kicked. She screamed. She rolled about the floor. Fear took over. Not fear of the magic. She didn’t believe in that. Fear of her imminent death. Or Hefler’s death if she gave up his name. Fear of torture. Fear of all the possible things Vigesh could do when he started to ‘play’.

Vigesh lumbered forward.

“Stay. You touch her, you interfere with the magic.”

Lord stood and backed behind the chair. Vigesh froze in place and watched.

Zhizhen crowded Daezin into the corner. His hand got closer. Her eyes dropped to the bowl in his hand. Something snapped in her arm as she threw everything she had into a final kick to knock that stupid, freaky bowl from his grasp. Her bare feet connected with warm wood. The bowl flew into the air. Spun end over end. Dark red liquid spattered all over her end of the room. When it hit her face, Daezin flinched. There was so much more of it than three drops of blood and one globule of spit could produce. And it burned.

“Get it off. Get it off.”

Even Zhizhen looked astonished at this turn of events. Then, the liquid ran into her eyes and Daezin went blind.

The burning became more than an annoyance. It became full on pain. Daezin whimpered. The blood burned hotter and she couldn’t help it any more. She cried. She blubbered. Her nose ran. Snot ran into her open mouth, but she just didn’t care. She couldn’t see. The pain kept getting worse.

Then, all of a sudden, it stopped. Her vision didn’t come back but the pain left. With the absence of pain, she heard the sounds of a fight. A grunt. The scream of metal against metal. Boot soles scuffed the dirt floor. A wet gurgle. Then silence.

Daezin began to hate silence. Bad things happened in those spaces between noise.

“Who’s there?” Her voice wobbled. She firmed it up. “If you don’t mind introducing yourself to me. I can’t see. And I think I hurt my arm.”

Twin jerks, and her bonds fell off. Warm hands, big and sure, pressed against her flesh from neck to ankles, presumably to check for injuries.

“Hey. I’m not that kind of girl." She tried to push the hands away and flinched when pain shot out from her elbow. "Please, who are you? What do you want with me? I’ve got people looking for me.” Maybe lying wasn’t so much of a skill as a bad habit.

A masculine chuckle reached her ears and settled in the pit of her belly, warmer than any tea. A soft cloth wiped blood from her face.

One arm throbbed and both hands tingled with the return of blood. She'd punch him. She'd mean it, too. She would have. If her arms worked or if she could see. I tire of his mysterious silent act. Fast.

“Fellow, speak up. Cat got your tongue? Do you like manhandling damsels in distress? Cause I’ve got news for you. I ain’t no damsel. I had that situation all under—“ Daezin screamed. While she talked, her savior — the jury was still out on that — grabbed her injured arm and rotated it one direction and then another and then...ow.

“What was that for? You into torture now too?”

“Your elbow was dislocated. It should be better by morning.” The low voice of my rescuer was laced with laughter. It was a nice voice.

“Um. Well. Thanks. I guess. You could have warned me. Eeeyah!” She couldn’t help but squeal as he lifted her into his arms and stood up. And up. And up. At least it felt that way. If I was a betting woman—and we all know how that works out for me—I’d say this was a very tall man. Maybe not man-mountain tall but definitely tall.

When he took off walking, Daezin leaned into his chest and got a nose full of his scent. Not unpleasant. Not unpleasant at all.

She asked him question after question, to get him talking again. Partly to find out who he was, partly to hear him speak again. The sound of his voice comforted her fears, soothed her doubts, and almost made up for her lack of sight. But he stayed silent. Didn't even let her know where he was taking her.

Fatigue dragged at consciousness and Daezin rested her head against the soft leather of his jerkin. Her day had been tough. She’d rest her eyes. For just... one... moment.