Of Being Broken

     The torture under which the captives of Ishar lived was hellish. Days stretched by, each more difficult to bear than the one before. They were all taken repeatedly to the tent where they were questioned. Sometimes it was Ishar who interrogated them, others it was someone else. They could never be sure whether or not they’d be simply talked to, or if they’d be forced to bear beatings or worse.

     Unlike her dazed and sullen companions, Rianka seemed not to be affected by her incarceration. She developed a daily routine and proceeded to live her life as though things had always been the way they were now. She never complained, though she did seem to take some enjoyment in taunting the guards. Her stoicism was a thorn in the side of her captors, but while some came to despise her, others came to admire her almost to the point of reverence. She was untouchable- nothing that they did could break her down.

     Rianka had clearly stepped into the place vacated by Hamat, shepherding her companions through their trials. She rose early each morning, spending hours exercising, after making a brief check of the others as they slept. She did not answer the guards as they jeered at her nakedness- every night she covered Xelin with her clothing. Sometimes she didn’t retrieve her garments until forced to do so by the men who led her off to interrogation. It was she who orchestrated all the aspects of their daily life. In the intermittent times they were given food and water, she divided it carefully by necessity, doling out the portions she could scrape out of the kitchen refuse they were thrown, most of it inedible. When there wasn’t enough to go around, she went hungry that the others might eat. Everything she did was with steadfast nonchalance, including cleaning out the corner she’d dedicated as their lavatory. She used a soiled rag she’d torn from Iori’s shirt to do the job, and when the guards laughed at her, she calmly showered them with filth.

     Her silent dedication was met with hatred, with beatings and punishments. She bore all of her sometimes demeaning, sometimes disgusting payment with laughter. As she’d promised Ishar, he got no satisfaction from her, only further trials. She was his daily agitation, the stubborn stain in his life. His inability to wear her down needled at him. After only two days, he’d grown furious with her attitude and severed three of her fingers in a red haze of rage- right index and left pinky and ring. Her teeth gritted, her face contorted in pain, as soon as she’d finished swallowing the screams she refused him, she laughed.

     “Go ahead, take them all,” she’d said calmly. “Take my hands. Somehow, I’ll find a way to kill you with my feet. Take my feet- I’ll use my teeth. Take everything- I’ll find a way. Even if you kill me, my soul will rise up to defeat you.” Smiling, she warned him, “I mark you, Ishar.”

     His men wracked their brains for novel ways to penalize her. They dragged her naked through the camp, wearing scrapes into her skin. They tied her up in a thoroughfare, where passing soldiers did as they wished when they went by. They took her down to a nearby river, where they held her down in the chill water until her entire body shuddered convulsively with cold. Through all of this she secretly thanked them, for in their haste to punish her, they allowed her to gain a clear picture of the camp’s layout and that of the surrounding forest.

     Throughout her tribulations, Rianka was alone. As Ishar had hoped, the constant, watchful eyes of the guards, with their red-hot iron pokers, listening ears and waggling tongues, had caused the captives to remain isolated from one another. Though they were never more than a few feet apart, they were not permitted to touch, to converse, or to comfort one another in any way. While Rianka defied rules and pushed boundaries, the rest did not, either unwilling or unable. The small things she managed to do to ease the others’ pain were not reciprocated. In their need, she was forgotten. This did not anger her. She saw it only as proof that she was responsible for them, nothing more.

     Thoughts of Rianka began to eat up more and more of Ishar’s time. In all his experience, he’d never met anyone quite so challenging. Even when he was meant to be thinking of other things, her image would pop into his head, taunting him.

     “You are distracted, Honored One,” Riel observed after an evening planning session. Though the other officers had been dismissed, he remained behind.

     “I suppose I am,” Ishar conceded.

     “What troubles you, Lord?”

     “It’s that damn Defender.”

     “Pardon my humble advice, Honored One, but as you cannot make any progress with her, wouldn’t it be best to kill her?”

     “There’s so much she knows, Riel. Xelin is barely ever coherent enough to say anything of use, and when he is, he remembers not to answer what I ask. What little I’ve gained from him would come together with her information. Ren still refuses to speak, and the information I’ve gleaned from Benar isn’t much use. The madman Iori babbles in tongues. There’s nothing more I might learn from him… His time with us is nearly over. But can’t you see that as much as I’d love to slaughter that Rianka, I’m unable to?”

     “If you cannot force her to speak-”

     “It isn’t that, Riel,” Ishar said impatiently. “If that was the only problem, don’t you think I’d have already killed her?”

     “What is the problem, Lord?”

     “Martyrdom is the problem. If I kill her now, while she is still defiant, she will be a hero to her lot. My chance of learning anything from the rest will be reduced to zero.”

     “I see,” Riel’s voice purred.

     “I need to break her. But I need to know how.”

     “My Lord?” As if on cue, the tent flap peeped open. “You sent for me?”

     “Yes, Akar. Do come in.”

     Akar entered the tent, his hazel eyes fixed warily on Riel.

     “There’s no reason for you to worry, Akar,” Ishar assured him. “Riel and I were just discussing the reason I requested your presence.”

      The words did not seem to comfort the soldier, but he stood rigidly at attention.

     “Yes, sir.”

     “I recall,” Ishar began, “that during a previous conversation, you mentioned that the red-haired Defender, Rianka, seemed familiar to you. Have you given any more thought as to why?”

     “No, sir, I haven’t.”

     “Tsk-tsk. Aren’t you aware that she’s a captive of ours? I also recall you assuring me she was dead over a month ago.”

     “I apologize for my mistake, Lord.”

     “You’ll have to do better than that.” Ishar stared straight at Akar and felt the other man’s soul shrivel. “You are going to remember this Rianka, and everything you ever knew about her.”

     “With all due respect, Lord, she may only have been a face in the marketplace.”

     “I don’t care. You are going to watch her, you are going to listen to her, until you recall who she is. Do you understand?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “You are dismissed. See Timir outside. He’ll detail your new duties as a prison guard.”

     “I haven’t got the training for-”

     “You’ll learn fast… or else.”

     Ishar watched coolly as Akar disappeared through the tent flap. To Riel he said,

     “And that, I can only hope, is the end of that.”

     Ren fell to the dirt within the confines of the iron bars. For a time he lay there, face against the cool ground. Ishar had taken yet another of his teeth today, but he did nothing to stop the flow of blood from the empty place in his gums. As he lay, he allowed himself- for just those moments- to be defeated entirely. He was exhausted, hungry, filthy and in pain, but it was the words that had been spoken to him that knocked him down.

     Rianka and Benar shared a foreboding glance. She was about to call to him when Ren pushed himself wearily up from the ground and into a sprawled sitting position. His bloodied, pale face was a mask of misery, brown-green eyes vacant with shock.

     “Shit, Ren,” Rianka hissed. “You okay? You need help?”

     He shook his head weakly and waved her off. She had to wait nearly an hour before the guards were distracted enough that she might crouch down beside him.

     “What happened?” She whispered. Ren was still sitting in the same position, absently picking at the dirt. Usually, by this point he’d be meditating, an activity he spent most of his time doing.

     “Everybody else…” he choked. “They got caught. Himira and Hamat escaped but… Jorin’s dead, Rianka. Jorin and Akuro both. Fatemeh wasn’t with them. He… Ishar… He said maybe she… she died in the ambush. And… and they have Maaya. She’s here, now.”

     “That’s a lie, Ren,” Rianka said vehemently.

     “They said if I talked they’d let me see her.”

     “Ren, they don’t have her.”

     “But… What if they do? What if they were telling the truth?”

     Rianka was distracted by a motion visible over Ren’s hunched shoulder. Iori was rapidly shaking his head, staring pointedly at her.

     “It’s a lie, Ren,” she said firmly. “Believe me, nothing happened to the others. Look, the goons are coming. Whatever you do, don’t believe them. I gotta go.”

     She deftly dodged the iron poker aimed at her. Ren did not, and received a burn to his arm. He barely flinched.

     It was not until evening that Rianka was able to talk to Iori. Darkness was falling, and she’d already had her daily session in the interrogation tent. It hadn’t gone well- from Ishar’s point of view, at least. Sore and tired, she inched closer to Iori by increments. He seemed unaware of her, but that was not surprising. As much time as Ren spent in meditation, Iori spent in another world.

     She surreptitiously pinched him until he was aware of her.

     “What’s up, Iori?”

     “Birds.”

     “I don’t have time to play now. Why were you shaking your head before?”

     “Ishar doesn’t have Maaya. Ren was told a lie. She’s… well, not fine, but okay.”

     “How do you know?”

     “I asked and they told me what happened to everyone else. They’re all alive.”

     Under the guise of peering at his weeping, empty eye, she whispered, almost inaudibly,

     “Hamat?”

     Iori nodded and gave a quick thumbs-up.

     “Great.”

     She made to move away from him, but he grasped her tattered sleeve.

     “What I’m doing, I don’t mean to abandon you. You know that, right?”

     “Yeah sure, Iori. I know.”

     “I’m making a plan.”

     She nodded slightly, disbelieving his words.

     “I saw what you did when everyone was sleeping,” he told her.

     She didn’t answer.

     “I saw you sit with Taran when he died. I heard you talk to him. You helped him die, even though the men were burning you. The next day they put you in the river.”

     She inched away from him, her ears picking out the sounds of the guards stirring.

     “I promise, Rianka, I’m trying to help you.”

     “Help yourself,” she muttered as she rolled away from him before the guards could catch them.

     It was yet another three hours before she could complete her final task of the day. She always waited until just before the watch changed, when the men on duty would grow distracted by the thoughts of their hours off. Then, especially if the changing set of guards happened to be friends, she’d have up to twenty minutes to spend with Xelin.

     He lay crumpled on the far side of the enclosure, as far from the others as possible, for the stench that rose from his body was nauseating. He’d deteriorated at an alarming rate the day after his beating, developing a fever and vomiting frequently. Now, it was rare that he wasn’t delirious, his cries and deluded ramblings a plea to those who sat nearby but could do nothing to help him. Though Rianka had been insistent at first, Benar had informed her sadly that Xelin was well beyond anything they could do. That morning, the doctor had stated gravely that if Xelin didn’t get proper help soon, he would die.

     She stripped out of her clothes slowly, so as not to attract attention, before approaching him. Each night she covered him as much as she could with her small and tattered garments in an attempt to ward off the chill in the air, if only slightly. He was sweating, shivering convulsively, as she tucked the clothes around him. She then settled down beside him, gently stroking his shorn head. She could feel the heat radiating from his skull. He opened his eyes.

     “Still sick, huh pal?” She whispered to him. “You better hurry up and get well again.”

     “Where’s Hamat?” He pleaded in return. He’d been begging for his mentor for two days.

     “I dunno, Xe, but he’s out there somewhere.” She leaned close to him, ignoring the hot reek of his breath that clung to her nostrils. “Iori told me- Hamat’s okay, Xe. He’s fine. You understand that?”

     Xelin nodded weakly.

     “You with me tonight, buddy?” There were recent nights that he didn’t even know who she was.

     “Mm, yeah.”

     “So, that’s good news on two counts.” She pulled away from him slightly. “How you feeling?”

     “Hurts,” Xelin whined.

     “I know. I wish I had something to give you for it, but sometimes that doctor guy Ishar has gives you something, right? Maybe he will tomorrow.”

     “Mm.”

     “You want anything I could give you?”

     Xelin started to laugh weakly, but was cut off by the pain in his gut.

     “You… haven’t got… anything,” he gasped, struggling to smile.

     “Not much, no.” She smiled in return.

     “Wait… I do want something.”

     “What is it, Xe?”

     “A promise.”

     “A promise?”

     “I’m scared, Ri. I want a promise.”

     “What promise?”

     “Take me to Hamat. If you can go to him, promise you won’t leave me behind.” He drew a long, shuddering breath. “I don’t want to die alone.”

     “You’re not dying, Xelin. Cheer up!”

     “Promise me you won’t abandon me,” he demanded.

     “Alright, Xe, I promise.”

     “Really and truly, Rianka. Swear it.”

     “I swear, Xelin- on my life.”

     He relaxed, settling against her. Silently, she stroked his cropped hair.

     “Tell me a story?”

     “Sure, Xe. It’ll have to be a short one, though. The guards are restless tonight.”

 

     The changing guards woke Benar every morning. He would lie silently and listen to them. Each day was the same. He would hear their footfalls, their chatter. They would jeer and catcall at Rianka, laughing at the state of her abused body. Most of the time she would ignore them, but he’d noticed that she’d strike up conversations with a few, disregarding their taunts, wheedling out information. Benar would lie still and listen, always unwilling at first to rise up and face the challenges that waited.

     He frequently wondered what happened to the others when they were dragged off to be interrogated. Were they as weak as he was? Did they, too, fold under the weight of torture, or were they possessed of a fortitude he lacked? They had neither the time nor the inclination to discuss what went on in the hateful tent. Any words that passed between them were those of immediate necessity or brief solidarity. He had no idea whether the others were towers of strength or the same weak vessels as he was himself. Guilt gnawed his conscience, but at times he felt he had no options.

     Ishar bargained. He learned Benar’s weaknesses quickly, and pounced upon them. Robbed of his one pride, the doctor had no ability to help the people he cared for. It was Benar’s personal hell, watching them suffer, his mangled hands stiff and useless, his instruments and medicines stolen, unable to ease their pain or make them whole. He was forced to watch as they suffered and died slowly, his mind itching to help them. Ishar used the tribulations of his friends against Benar. Their pain was to him no more than a valuable bargaining chip.

     As time passed, Benar told Ishar more and more, each time in return for the promise of a small favor that would ease the suffering of one of the others. He gave a detailed account of the journey he’d taken to Nira, quietly answering Ishar’s numerous questions on the keeping of their camp, in exchange for a single dose of painkillers for Xelin. He explained the system used to assign watches to obtain disinfectant for Rianka’s hands. To get Ishar to have Iori’s weeping eyesocket cleaned, he gave information on Jorin’s handy invention, such as the trip-wire alarm. Benar hated himself more with every word that passed his lips, but feared his silence would mean the death of one of his companions.

     On the days when he would try to remain withholding, Ishar showed no mercy. Benar had suffered pain on a variety of levels, from having pins pushed into his navel to being tied naked to a red-hot sheet of corrugated metal. Like the rest, he felt the agony of lingering wounds, each day growing weaker. Of late his confessions had become random, beyond his control, shouted out with screams of delirious pain. After such sessions, he could never recall exactly what he’d said. Ishar would laugh coolly as Benar would weep and writhe, sobbing out stories of dead children, of never having found a true home, and of harrowing accounts of failure.

     Just as Hamat had forced Xelin, Benar’s father had insisted that his son better himself. He was made to learn to read and write, given as best an education possible in his tiny village. When a terrible bout of influenza nearly wiped out the entire population of the place, Benar found his calling. Unable to receive the proper training in his rural home, he’d left behind the remains of his family and moved to a larger town. He’d been moving ever since. With a burning determination he roamed the countryside, learning all he could in one place before moving on. His dedication was invasive- he never had time to socialize, to marry or to amass unnecessary possessions. By the time he’d arrived in Mianuus- friendless, homeless and poor- he’d already given up all hope of a different life. Yet deep inside his losses mounted, his lonely sacrifice stung. Pushed beyond the limits of reason by torture, he confessed to his secret emotions of helplessness, lack of self-worth and solitary pain.

     Benar was carted off while it was still morning. He hung back against his guards, anxiety threatening to bloom into terror. He was helpless. He knew this as the men dragged him along. If only he could find some way to resist. By the time he reached the now-familiar tent, however, any hope had faded. His head hung low, he was brought before Ishar.

     “Good morning, Benar,” the blonde man said cordially.

     “Good morning.”

     Ishar liked his pleasantries. It was best not to deny him.

     “You’re not looking well,” Ishar observed. “Is your back bothering you?”

     Benar nodded silently.

     “What was that?”

     “I suppose, yes.”

     “We did burn you rather badly. Shame, that. I prefer it when you cooperate and I’m not forced to do such things.”

     Benar said nothing.

     “So sullen today. Raise your head, Benar. You know I detest sulking.”

     Benar did as he was told. When he did, he found he was not alone in the tent with Ishar and the guards. While this was not altogether unusual, he’d never seen this man before. The stranger was nearly as tall as Xelin, and incredibly thin. He had neatly trimmed, graying tawny hair and sharp eyes the color of cocoa. Though he was better dressed than the soldiers of the camp, he bore the insignia Ishar had fashioned for himself- a white falcon on a green field- on his jacket. His deeply lined face was serious as he regarded Benar in silence.

     “Yes, we have a guest today,” Ishar informed him. “Serin sometimes assists me with a few of your friends.”

     Serin said nothing, and Benar eyed him with evident fear.

     “He’s nothing to be afraid of,” Ishar chuckled. “Serin is a doctor, like yourself. I occasionally require his help with prisoners.” When Benar did not reply, Ishar continued. “You are growing weaker, I’m afraid. Serin is here to help in the event things get out of hand.”

     Benar continued to stare at the other doctor, who remained silent.

     “He does not speak unless I order him to,” Ishar explained. “I find his interruptions annoying. He’s far too compassionate for my taste.”

     Still, Benar made no reply.

     “Goodness, your tongue hasn’t been cut out, has it?” Ishar asked impatiently. “We have plenty of business to discuss today, so let’s get on with it, shall we?”

     “Alright.”

     “There, that’s better. Now, Benar, before we begin, I must inform you of some rather unfortunate news. I’ve been growing busier these days and I find I simply haven’t the time to handle your little clique as well as I might like. I’m going to have to reduce your number. Put bluntly, I’m going to execute one of your friends in a day or so.”

     “Who?” The word left Benar’s mouth automatically.

     “Now, now. It’s no fun if I tell you.” Ishar waggled a finger. “However, I like you, Benar, so I’m going to give you a little present. If you cooperate and please me, I’ll push the execution back. You have a chance to buy one of your friends a longer life… but I have to be really pleased. And I warn you, vex me and I’ll make you watch the death. Is that clear?”

     “Yes.”

     “Very good. Now, you’ve mentioned that you were acting as a physician while you traveled with Himira and the Defenders, but that you never treated Hamat. Is this accurate?”

     “Yes.”

     “I wonder… I never did learn from Ren what in the world your group was doing with the Defenders in the first place.”

     “We were traveling to Nira. After we were caught by accident in your ambush on Hamat, he offered to see us there safely.”

     “I’ve long been curious about your reasons for traveling to Nira, but we’ll leave that lie for now. So, the Defenders saw you there. Why, then, were you still with them when you were captured? This is not Nira.”

     “We needed to travel through this way…”

     “Oh, did you?”

     “And Hamat again offered us protection.”

     “And you accepted, even though you knew he was coming here to kill an innocent man?”

     Benar hesitated.

     “Don’t lie,” Ishar warned.

     “Yes.”

     Ishar began to pace slowly, his movements reminiscent of the steps in a dance.

     “There is so much about you that makes little sense to me,” he said quietly in a musing tone. “Both you and Ren. You’re withholding something, and I’m inclined to believe it’s something important. I have a feeling that neither of you is what he seems.”

     “We’re simple people,” Benar insisted. “We left Mianuus so that Ren and his friend Jorin could study history in Nira.”

     “Why, may I ask, ‘we’? What need did you have to be with them?”

     “I wouldn’t say I needed to go along…”

     “Out with it, Benar.”

     “I… I’m in love with Ren’s sister. I didn’t want to be parted from her.” Benar spoke this half-truth hastily, blushing.

     “How touching,” Ishar said coolly. “So you traveled all that way to Nira… just to leave?”

     “Ren- Ren and Jorin made a discovery in Nira that prompted them to wish to travel through this area.”

     “How fascinating. What was it?”

     “I don’t know.”

     Ishar laughed abruptly.

     “You don’t know?”

     “Some documents, maybe,” Benar’s voice shook.

     “What did they find in Nira?” Ishar demanded.

     “I’m really not sure.”

     “Oops- Benar, you lied.” Ishar’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “I already know what’s in Nira. You know what happens to liars?”

     Benar mumbled something inaudibly.

     “I said, do you know what happens to liars? What did you say?”

     “They get comeuppance,” Benar murmured.

     “And you’re going to get yours.”

   

     Benar was still screaming when the guards tossed him into the cell. He didn’t even try to support himself, but crumpled to the ground, clawing at his skin. Rianka watched as he rolled around, flexing and extending his legs, jarring his swollen fingers as he gouged exposed skin. She tensed, about to dash to his side, when one of the guards cuffed her hard against the face.

     “You can’t go near him,” the man barked.

     “Go fuck yourself,” Rianka snarled back, spitting dirt from her mouth.

     The guard kicked her before leaving, but it was a glancing blow. They’d all grown tired of dealing with her.

     She waited, watching Benar’s frenzied movements, listening to his cries. As soon as she had an opportunity, she crawled over to him. By then, he was entering a state of forced calm, all of his energy expended. He lay twitching and sobbing, blood dripping from the patches of skin he’d torn.

     “Don’t touch me!” He hissed as Rianka approached.

     “At least let me clean up your face.”

     “No. It’ll get on you. Just go away.”

     “What will?”

     “Acid.”

     “Holy shit, Benar…”

     “Just go ‘way.”

     As Rianka turned from Benar, she noticed that one of the guards was watching her. She’d seem him before, a young man, probably barely out of his teens with silvery coal-colored hair and lavender eyes.

     “You’re supposed to use the big metal stick there,” she said to him. “You know that, you’ve done it before.”

     He didn’t reply, but shifted so that he was no longer looking at her.

     A few hours later, more guards arrived- four of them this time- along with a man Rianka recognized. He was small and appeared almost delicate, but his ink-black eyes were cruel. Though she didn’t know his name, Rianka knew his nature- as ruthless as Ishar himself, though never as showy.

     “Those two,” Riel said softly, indicating Rianka and Xelin.

     “Put your clothes on, naked whore,” commanded a guard as he yanked Rianka up by the hair.

     Though it was afternoon, she still hadn’t dressed. Xelin had worsened in the night, and she hadn’t wanted to rob him of even the smallest comfort.

     “Now, Suya,” Riel said quietly, “can’t you see she doesn’t want them? She keeps throwing them away. Let her go naked to our Lord if she has no shame.”

     “Yes, sir.”

     Xelin screamed as two other guards hauled him to his feet. His glistening face contorted as his cries subsided into whimpers.

     “Shut up,” one of the guards ordered, but it was to no avail. Xelin continued to cry.

     The man called Suya nudged Rianka’s crumpled clothing with his boot.

     “What should I do with these?” He asked.

     “Since our Rianka doesn’t want them, throw them in the fire,” Riel answered.

     “I gave them to Xelin,” Rianka spat. “You’re taking them from him, not me.”

     “I see no difference.”

     “I do. It’s no punishment to me. You’re right- I don’t want to wear anything.”

     Riel shrugged.

     “You can’t get to me that way,” Rianka said coolly, her gaze on Riel haughty and full of disdain. “You know I won’t care of you try to punish others in my stead.”

     “Ishar is waiting,” was all Riel said in reply.

 

     Rianka stared back at Ishar, betraying none of the wary curiosity that churned within her. This was something new- he never interrogated more than one of them at a time. The large tent felt almost crowded, full of guards. Riel remained, and aside from Ishar, Serin was there as well.

     “Are you trying to seduce me, Rianka?” Ishar laughed.

     “Nope.”

     “Where are your clothes?” He raised his eyebrows.

     “In a fire,” Rianka replied with a smile.

     “Fascinating.” He turned from her. “Good afternoon, Xelin. By the Holy Ones, you’re not looking well at all. What a shame that is!”

     “M’okay,” Xelin mumbled with a slight trace of his formerly wide and mischievous grin.

     “I have words for you first, before we deal with little Rianka.”

     “Whatcha wan’?” Xelin fixed his glassy eyes on Ishar’s.

     “The offer I made you yesterday still stands, Xelin,” Ishar said softly, his face growing ever-so-slightly eager. “Join me. Put all this rubbish about freedom and liberty behind you, for once and for all. Then Serin can see to you. You can still be saved, Xelin, but the time for that is running out.”

     “S’okay. ‘D rather die.”

     Ishar made a tiny motion with his head. One of the guards holding Xelin punched him in the stomach. The tall man crumpled, putting his full weight on the arms of those that restrained him. He retched, dribbling a black, tarry substance from his mouth. Motionless, with his lead hung low, he sagged in the guards’ arms. Rianka watched without flinching, her face a carefully composed mask devoid of emotion.

     Ishar shook his head sadly.

     “See, Rianka? He won’t save himself.” He turned his eyes on her. “Would you save him?”

     “I won’t join you either,” she replied firmly.

     “I don’t want you,” Ishar informed her. “There’s no place in the world for one as vile as yourself. No… I want information. I want to understand what motivates people to stand against me. I want to know whether or not your beloved Hamat poses any further threat. I want you to answer my questions. It’s a simple thing. Answer, and I’ll allow Serin to heal your friend.”

     “Xelin is my coworker, not my friend,” Rianka said coldly. “And we have one loyalty- to Hamat. Xelin wouldn’t be happy to learn that I betrayed that loyalty, even to save his life.”

     “Rianka, consider what you’re doing,” Ishar warned. “This will be the last opportunity for any of you to help Xelin. Serin tells me that it may already be too late.”

     Rianka shook her head, as though in disbelief.

     “You still haven’t got me figured out, have you, Ishar? That won’t work. Let Xelin die. See if it makes any difference to me.”

     “You care nothing for this man?” Ishar asked incredulously, sweeping his arm to indicate Xelin’s unconscious form.

     “Don’t give a damn.”

     “Rianka, Xelin adores you. He’s pleaded for you, begged me to spare you… And you feel nothing?”

     “If Xelin wants to give a shit about me, that’s his business. No law says I’m forced to reciprocate.”

     “And what if I turned his love for you to hatred? You wouldn’t feel loss, knowing that he despised you?”

     “His feelings are of no consequence to me, Ishar.”

     “Is that so?” Ishar’s smile grew cunning. “Then you’ve told him what you are? If you really didn’t care, there’d be no reason to keep it a secret.”

     Rianka said nothing, but waited expectantly, her silver-grey eyes fixed on Ishar.

     “Have you told him?”

     “Told him what?”

     Ishar shot a triumphant gaze at Riel, then began to pace slowly, hands behind his back. When he spoke, his voice had the quality of self-satisfaction many knew to mean doom.

     “Did you know they had a nickname for you in Kirit? They called you ‘Erish-batt’. Ren was kind enough to tell me what it means. Apparently, it’s the name of one of the embodiments of an ancient goddess. It means ‘Bringer of Hellfire’. Does Xelin know why they called you that?”

     “They didn’t call me that.” Rianka’s gaze held steady.

     “Oh, they didn’t know it was you to whom they referred, of course. But their terror ended when you left… He doesn’t know, does he?”

     Rianka refused to answer.

     “Wake him,” Ishar commanded the guards.

     Try as they might, the men were unable to rouse Xelin. After a few minutes of their brutal attempts, Ishar made a lazy gesture over his shoulder, a slight flick of his hand. Rianka watched as Serin opened a small black box and withdrew a syringe filled with clear liquid. Merely a second after he injected the drug into Xelin’s vein, the prone man’s eyes snapped open. He breathed heavily and too quickly, a look of shock on his features.

     “Welcome back to us, Xelin,” Ishar said warmly as Serin stepped back. “I’ve awakened you to perform a service for me. This is a sentencing, and you are to be the witness. The Divine Law has been broken by the criminal you see before you.” He motioned, and the guards dragged Rianka over until she was beside him. “I shall recount the crime for your benefit as witness.”
Xelin, still breathing heavily, focused on Rianka, his expression puzzled and fearful.

     “Rianka, your friend, is a murderer,” Ishar stated. “I do not mean by this that she’s taken the lives of my soldiers, as you have. Rianka, though also guilty of crimes against the Divine State, is a cold-blooded killer. Are you aware of her history?”

     Xelin continued to stare at Rianka. While his face was full of panic, hers was aloof, almost relaxed.

     “Are you?” Ishar pressed.

     “I… Naw, I dunno,” Xelin pushed his voice out with rapid breath.

     “Well, then, I shall tell you. For ten years, this disgusting creature moved around our beloved countryside- a vagrant, a wanderer. Wherever she went, death was not far behind. It was not death for those who had any quarrel with her. It was death for innocent victims of her foul whims. By night, she would break into the houses of slumbering townspeople and tie them to their beds. She would douse them with kerosene and set them alight- whole families- men, women, children… This monstrosity has even taken the lives of infants. She had no motives for these crimes, aside from the urgings of her twisted mind. One of the towns she terrorized was Kirit, home of one of my soldiers. There, she murdered six families before moving away. She was never caught, never brought to justice- until now.”

     “Ri,” Xelin whined her name. “’S lyin’, right? Right, Ri?”

     “He isn’t lying, Xelin. I did exactly what he said.”

     Panting, Xelin stared at her, disbelief and sorrow in his eyes.

     “Naw… naw. Ri, you didn’… Not lil kids.”

     “I did it, Xelin,” Rianka replied, her voice firm and unwavering. “I told you, you wouldn’t like hearing what I used to do with my life. I’ve probably killed near a hundred people- kids, too. I’m exactly the type of person Ishar says I am.”

     Xelin said nothing more, but looked away from her, hanging his head.

     “You admit to your deeds, then?” Ishar asked.

     “Sure. You got me.”

     “Then there’s nothing left for me but to give your sentence. Rianka,” Ishar began ceremonially, “for the crime of murder, I sentence you to the highest punishment under Divine Law. You are to be swallowed by the Mouth of the Underworld.” When he received no response from her, not even a flicker of fear, he went on. “However, I shall allow you to remain with us just long enough to carry out one small task. As you have no regard for the lives of your companions, you shall serve as executioner for the man Iori, sentenced for his crimes against the Divine State, at dusk tomorrow.”

     “Are you finished?” Rianka asked in a bored voice.

     “Have you no remorse?” Ishar asked in reply, his voice pleading.

     “Not really, no. Guess I’m kinda sorry to be in your company, but that’ll be fixed soon.”

     “Take them away,” Ishar spat in disgust.

     As the prisoners were dragged out of the tent, he watched.

     “Well played, Honored One,” Riel exalted. “Now you’ll be rid of that worrisome woman and the rest will come to hate her.”

     “I only wish I could’ve gotten something out of her. Have you ever seen anyone so callous? She didn’t even flinch when I told her I’d be forcing her to kill one of her own lot.”

     “The world will be a better place without her.”

     “Yes… But unfortunately I fear I’ll have trouble forgetting her name. She’ll be the only one to leave my hands unbroken.”

     With a sigh, he exited the tent, stepping into the light of a beautiful day.