Tahar and Cali did not try to come to my rescue - just as I had asked them the day before. There was little realistic chance of them fighting their way through such a huge mass of trained soldiers, and they ran the risk of being targeted by the inquisition if they tried. They made themselves sparse, presumably after seeing dozens of armed men appear out of nowhere and pour into the building to grab me.
At the crack of dawn some five hours after my original capture, the door to my temporary prison opened again. Behind it stood the figure of an unfamiliar inquisitor. He had long blonde hair, ornate red armour, and a scowl that could cut through stone. His high ranking was denoted with a seal placed on the front right of his chestplate, a small bronzed medal surrounded by white and red frills.
He walked into the room with a deliberate slowness as if he was trying to twist my arm through his mere presence. I wasn’t scared of him, no matter how hard he tried to intimidate me. He spoke with loud bombast, “I am Petty King John of the Inquisition. I have come to pass my judgement.”
“What a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” I snarked. This was the closest encounter I had ever had with an inquisitor, and it was likely to stay that way. They didn’t tend to ‘talk’ with people – not unless you wanted to be arrested arbitrarily and accused of a random crime. He stared at me, clearly not amused by my tone. He wanted me to take him seriously.
He crossed his arms and explained why he was here; “One of the guardsmen who retrieved your murder weapon came forth to us with dire news indeed. Upon further inspection, the men on watch discovered that it is a corrupting artefact that we have been searching for. That weapon is connected with the murder of eight of my comrades. Their lives and souls consumed for a foul, evil purpose. What say you?”
I shrugged, “Nothing. I know how this is going to pan out. You think I was the one who did it.”
“And?”
“What’s the value in wasting my breath? I know you people too well to bother.”
John scowled, “Your culpability in their deaths is not the matter at hand. The guards found you inside of this very building, attempting to assassinate a good friend of mine. Whether you were the one who slayed my brothers in arms or not is of little consequence. This accusation alone is enough to put you to the axe.”
“The truth never stopped you inquisitors before. I wonder how it feels to know that everyone wants nothing to do with you.”
His eyes narrowed, “A sharpened tongue like a serpent’s – has the blade afflicted your mind and rationality?”
I laughed in his face, “No. I hated every one of you blood-iron twits before I ever picked it up. You really have a high opinion of yourself, don’t you? For a bunch of murdering, maurauding bandits and rapists.”
That touched a nerve, “The actions of an individual do not reflect our values or mission.”
“Keep telling yourself that, as long as it helps you sleep at night.”
“I do not need to earn your approval – no doubt the corrupting touch of Stigma has made you an accomplice in many crimes yourself.” I chuckled. That was a very obvious deflection tactic. This guy wasn’t very sharp. “Death is a mercy for those caught in the throes of Stigma’s corrupting influence,” he declared.
“I’d rather live, to be honest.”
Now close enough to touch me, he reached out and tugged down on the collar of my jumper, revealing the angry black veins that had lightened the skin surrounding them. They were close to climbing up the side of my neck now, which would make hiding them much more difficult. I let him have his fun. He released me and shoved me back with a grunt.
“This poison fills your veins and your mind. Why else would you decide to embark upon such a mission for the valueless Federation?”
“They’ve got a lot more values than you arseholes do.”
He shook his head, “Words from a desperate man. The Federation is an empire in decay, Lord Forester will be the one to deliver the killing blow. Then our purview as defenders of the righteous will no longer be impeded by their snivelling politicians.”
“Save it for somebody who cares, are you going to execute me or not?”
My flippant treatment of my impending doom was throwing him for a loop. The inquisitor stared at me as if searching for a trace of fear in my features. This was the kind of fight that I had been waiting for ever since I grabbed Stigma months before. I didn’t need to be scared. It was all or nothing, I needed to get away from them, and I’d do anything to make it happen. The first step in my ‘plan’ was to get out of this building and into the streets – where I could more easily get away from them using my agility.
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I was goading him. I wanted him to make a show of my execution. An inquisitor could never resist the chance to moralise to a captive audience. At an early time of day, the foot traffic would be significant as thousands of people moved from their homes to their place of work.
“I don’t understand, why are you so eager?”
“I already told you. This discussion is pointless. If I tell you that Stigma hasn’t influenced my mind in the slightest, you’ll just reject it out of hand.”
He leapt at the chance to speak over me, “Your statement is in direct contradiction of hundreds of years of scholarly research. Nobody knows these accursed items better than the inquisition does. One and all, the wielders of such items have committed grave offences.”
I sighed, “You’d act differently too if you were counting down your last days in your head. It hangs over you, every waking moment thinking about where your next move is going to be. When people want to survive they’re willing to do anything it takes. I’m lucky enough that I haven’t had to do anything of the sort thus far.”
“And what of this attempted murder?”
“I’m a rogue and this is war. If not me, they’d have sent somebody else. I just wanted the gold they were offering.”
To his credit, Petty King John did not have a particularly defensive reaction to my explanation; though it was a very low bar to clear. These people were so drowned in dogma from the moment that they were adopted by the order that this much was unusual to hear from him.
“I do suppose some of the most odious crimes have been committed by those unsullied by corruption. Yet who are you to make a judgement of the soundness of your own mind? The manipulation may be so subtle, yet so invasive that you have not yet noticed the changes in your behaviour.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me or why I do what I do,” I fired back, “Maybe you should try to understand the priorities of someone who lives a life like mine if my behaviour mystifies you so much. The authority you wield, the comforts you enjoy, they’re supported by a pile of poor and unfortunate bodies like mine. You suck the life from them like a nightwalker, squeezing out their hearts and minds under heel and hoof. The luxury of choice is not ours to claim.”
Sir John stepped back as my words penetrated his righteous armour.
“The only damn reason I picked that thing up in the first place was because I was threatened by your men. To ‘corrupt’ my body and burn out like a flickering candle, or be put to the sword, not much of a choice in the end.”
His body quaked with nervous fury, “You were the one who killed them.”
I couldn’t hide the smirk on my lips. “We’re well past the point of worrying about that, John. As you said, my crimes are already numerous enough to secure a death sentence – though most things are when dealing with fanatics like you. I’m falling down to an unfortunate end one way or another. Clawing through the earth until my fingernails peel and bleed. That’s what it feels like to be on the bottom.”
“They had families and allies!” he roared.
I stood from the bed and confronted him directly, “And how many fucking people did you murder in Exarch’s Bend? You dog! Never once have you inquisitors considered the wreckage you leave behind in search of your justice. How many people have to die to satisfy Lord Forester’s ambitions?”
“We are trying to help.”
“Really? I think the thousands of dead working men and women in those swamplands would offer a very different perspective.” The tension had been ratcheted up to the maximum possible level. I’d gotten worked up. I needed him to send me for a beheading. Riling him up would just get in the way of that goal. He was furious. I could almost see the steam coming from his ears. I sat back down, the chains rattling to signal my concession.
“You can dress it up however you like, Petty King, but when the wheel of war begins to turn the only driving factor is the anger that boils, in the due process of fighting that self-same war. There is no unity of vision here, no common purpose.”
“I am resolute in my mission,” he replied. “I will release you from your torment.”
“Very well, begone then. The sight of your face is the greatest insult I can imagine.”
“I will send for an escort within the hour. I advise you to make the most of your last moments.”
He turned and marched back through the door, leaving me in silence once again. Good. I had managed to navigate that discussion and earned the public execution I was looking for. Having the chance to rile up one of the high-ranking inquisitors was a nice bonus too. Judging from what Adel said, Petty King John was on the ‘ideologue’ side of the inquisition. A man burdened with little more than religious fury.
He was in direct opposition to what Adel and the Absolver were doing, which made me ponder another question – did they know what was going on here? Adel probably had a finger on the pulse of Forester and John. The Absolver would have loved for both men to be out of the way. Pitching an expensive bounty through a third party in the Federation was a little too complex for me to accept. It was a coincidence. Important people had a gravity that attracted each other.
I tugged on the shackles again, but held off on snapping them like a twig. That would be by special surprise for whoever tried to finish me off.
“Stigma, where is your body now?”
The spectral voice huffed, “I remember the route, but I am unfamiliar with this city. I appear to have been taken to a tent in a nearby military camp. There are several inquisitors guarding me.”
“When I break out of here, I need you to guide me to it. I don’t stand much of a chance without you.”
“I can kill anyone who attempts to handle me, though it will cost some of your precious soul energy to do so.”
I thought on it for a moment and concluded that it was a decent trade. I needed to keep Stigma within a reachable distance if I wanted to escape, “If they try to move you from now on, do it.”
“Very well, Master.”
I didn’t know if this was going to work out. I still needed to find a way to off Lord Forester after all of this, but the entire city would be in chaos if I broke out of my binds and started cutting people down. Ideally, I’d get away without killing anyone but I knew that was an extremely unrealistic prospect.
This was going to be very bloody.