Pulling one of the stacked chairs free from its place against the back wall, I carry it back to set it down in the proper place before taking a moment to unbuckle my swordbelt. Thinking about it for a moment, I wrap the strap around the scabbard and pass it to Shay, who accepts it amicably enough. Might not be the best idea to set it down on the floor beside me while I’m seated this time, no matter how cowed our young guest is. Better not to leave any temptations to hand at all.

After another beat of consideration I shrug out of my coat too, taking a long, drawn out moment to fold it before holding it out to Gael. They look at me for a beat before stepping forward to collect it, but I don’t need to look at them to know they’re fighting the urge to give me a look right back. I just keep my eyes on the young man planted in the chair in front of me as I start to unbuckle my right-wrist bracer, taking my time with it, making a show as I start to slip out of it. Once it’s free I hold this out too, and it’s collected quickly enough, allowing me to unbutton the sleeve of my shirt and start rolling it up to my elbow. Once I’m done with that I start the whole process again with the left. I don’t look away from him once.

He won’t make eye contact with me, which is a good sign. I’m keeping my face neutral, not being overtly threatening, but the implication in what I’m doing’s clear enough. He can see that, while I’m no longer wearing my sword or handaxes, I still got my knives to hand. I let his imagination run as I prepare myself, taking my time to let him stew.

We’ve ended up in a backroom, somewhere in the small labyrinth of sorting rooms, restricted access book-stacks and stores frequented by the attendant staff and other clergy, usually not accessible to most of those who are welcome in the rest of the temple. I’ve been assured this is about as secure as the place gets, not only guarded by the same physical forces who police other Order territories but also warded with powerful defensive magics that are well-maintained by the resident wizards on the temple staff. There’s no danger of us being disturbed here, and it’s no more likely our prisoner could be traced than the curse could be remotely activated through the barrier spells. At least that’s what they told me, I don’t know how it all works and I still ain’t entirely convinced I really trust it.

This room’s just used for basic resource storage, no books or magic items, just chairs and boxed supplies and the like. A space was cleared in here in anticipation before we arrived, and it’s easily large enough to accommodate all of us and our new guest, with room to spare. We’ve had no trouble spreading out around him as he sits in a lonely wooden chair, back to the wall, directly under the light of one of the oil lamps mounted around the walls.

There were three guards in here when we arrived, along with an attendant, but they cleared out as soon as we requested a little privacy. Now the only other person left is one of the resident wizards of the temple clergy, conspicuously not the same one who collected the boy when we first arrived. This one’s younger, but the moment I met her I was utterly convinced of her competency. She’s a sharp one, the look she gave me when we arrived saw right through me, and when I asked if she was sure the curse was good and neutralised she actually rolled her eyes before answering me.

I’ve never met a half-hob before, but I’ve heard about them even so. They’re a rare thing, hobgoblins don’t tend to breed easily with other races, apparently, but when they do the results tend to be pretty interesting. From her swarthy, somewhat leathern skin to the thick bristly patches of hair growing around her more subtle snout, there’s a certain harsh, feral edge to her features that’s nonetheless quite striking. Her eyes are even darker than my own, but there’s more white in them too, they’re more human, which takes me by surprise, and I suspect she might be more comfortable in sunlight than her parent, whoever they might have been. She wears her thick, somewhat unruly dark hair bound back in a long braid, and it matches her robes, which are simple, somewhat worn and entirely without frills. It seems to suit what’s clearly a no-nonsense personality.

Mistress Shul Mivzida insisted on staying, just in case the myriad security precautions and counterspells somehow failed to keep the curse from reactivating during the interrogation. I mainly agreed because, despite the fact she barely clears five feet in height, she’s one of the most intimidating people I’ve ever met, and the boy seems to be completely terrified of her, which is very useful in this kind of enterprise. Finally she insisted we just call her Shul, and I instantly took to her after that, since I don’t like all this formality either.

Now she’s just stood by on his right, arms folded across her slender chest, glaring down at him with narrowed eyes and thin, tight lips that are an especially neat touch if they are simply put on. She’s happy to defer to me, she made that clear, but I had to promise I wouldn’t do anything that might shame her look in the eyes of her superiors. Hopefully I won’t have to let her down on that, I’ve already grown almost irrationally fond of her.

Once I’m done with my sleeves I look down at him for a drawn-out moment before I finally start to give my knuckles a little work out, taking my time as I crack every one before giving my hands a loosening shake. He winces a little at each sinewy pop, and even though he won’t look up I really have to fight not to smile seeing his reaction, knowing it’s already starting to work. I wait another few beats before I finally pick up the chair again and turn it round before straddling it backwards in front of him, leaning over the backrest as I fold my arms and rest my chin on top. Just watching him.

“Okay, let’s start simple, shall we? What’s your name?”

He still doesn’t look at me, barely shifts his face at all, but there’s the briefest loosening of his lips, like he wants to answer me before checking himself. Planting my feet a little firmer, I rock forward a little on the chair’s back-legs to lean a jot closer.

“C’mon now, ain’t like I’m asking for your deepest secret here. Right now I just wanna be civil. Know who I’m actually talking to. I gotta have something to call you.”

This time he looks up just enough to glance at me from under his eyebrows, and it’s a furtive and anxious thing indeed. Again, that quick little parting of his lips, there and gone before I can be sure I really saw it. He holds my eye for a moment before looking down again.

“It’s not very polite, y’know. Somebody’s trying to engage you in polite conversation and you won’t even give ‘em a name to go by, ain’t friendly at all. If I don’t know what to call you I gotta make something up.” I sit back a little before I look round at the others, considering my options. “What about Bob?”

Gael cocks a brow at me, shifting their feet a little, still holding my coat folded across their arms while they cradle my sword, my bracers clutched in one hand. If they were really irritated about that, don’t seem like it’s lasted, I see a little amused quirk to the corner of their mouth at the suggestion.

“How about it, Bob? Feel like talking to me?”

Raising his chin a little, the boy frowns now, finally looking me full in the eye as he juts out his chin, and I reckon he’s trying to seem intimidating in his indignance. “My name ain’t Bob. That’s a dumb name.”

“Oh, I dunno, I known a few Bobs in my time. To a man they were good, forthright, reliable. Men who could be counted on in a crisis. You don’t wanna be associated with that kinda strength of character?”

His frown deepens a touch. “Ain’t saying that, it just ain’t my name, so it feels dumb you calling me that. I don’t like it.”

“Well if you told me your real name I wouldn’t have to call you Bob, would I?”

That makes him narrow his eyes, regarding me coldly as he tries to decide if I’m fucking with him. I wanna smile seeing it, but manage to fight off the urge. Finally he lets out a little hiss as he bares his teeth, looking down again. “Wull.”

“Wull?” I repeat, turning it over in my head a few times. “Yeah, you’re right. That is better than Bob, ‘least for you. Suits you better, I’d say.”

“I ain’t gonna tell you shit, lady. You can act tough as you like, I won’t squeal on my mates. Might as well just go spit, yeah?”

Resting on my folded arms again, I regard him for a moment. “Honestly, I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Wull. You seem bright enough, but you were still dumb enough to get yourself stuck in this shitty situation in the first place. How’d that happen?”

Another furtive look up through his brows, more of a glare this time, but he doesn’t maintain eye-contact any longer. “Like I said, go spit.”

“Yeah, that’s real cute, kid.” I rock forward a little more this time, making it seem like I’m just moving in for a closer look, then whip out my right hand quick and snatch up his wrist, yank it up towards me. He winces, hissing at the pain in his battered shoulder as I pull him out of his slouch, and he tries to struggle free but my grip’s like a vice as I reach over with my left hand and pull his sleeve up.

They took his bracers and gloves to do their work on him, so it’s simplicity itself for me to access the sigil tattooed in stark black ink across the back of his wrist. It’s a deceptively understated work, but drawn in a surprisingly talented hand, the dark grey lines of ink curving with pleasingly smooth artistic flair. If it didn’t represent such an ugly piece of magic I could almost find it beautiful to look at, but instead it’s inherently repellent to me, so I drag his wrist into his eyeline as I lean in close to his face. “Look at it, you stupid little shit. Look at what they did to you, what you let them do to you. This is seriously what you signed up for? To let them mark you with a fucking walking death sentence? Are you really that stupid?”

He looks up at me again, and this time there’s none of the reticence, the nervousness. He’s angry now, eyes narrowed and full of venom as he spits: “Yeah, I did that, I agreed, because they’re my friends. I ain’t gonna just turn on my friends to save my own skin. Don’t you even get that?”

Letting go of his wrist, I sit back a bit, watching him sidelong for a moment. “No, I do, I get it. Your friends are like your family, right? You’d die for ‘em in a heartbeat, if it came to it. I’d do the same for my friends, every one of ‘em.”

“Then you get that I ain’t giving you shit, no matter what you do to me.” He looks me over for a few moments, clearly noting the various knives I still have conspicuously on my person. “Not that you can do much to me, not really. You seen how this shit works, an’ you got an idea why it works. So all this shit you’re threatening me with, you can’t even do that, so I don’t get what you’re even flexing for in the first place.”

Leaning my chin on my folded arms again, I cock my head. “Oh no, you see, that’s just your problem. You think you know how this all works. You ever actually tortured anybody before?”

His eyes widen at the word torture, he can’t help it. He opens his mouth to reply, but comes up short.

Smiling now, I lean in on the back legs of the chair again. “A lot of people think the serious torture’s all about fancy instruments and special techniques, but mostly that’s just bollocks. A lot of the real pain a human being can inflict on another, you don’t even have to break the skin to do it. There’s places on your body I could cause you unbelievable amounts of pain without shedding a drop o’ blood and I could have you screaming for days without causing you any actual damage at all.” I lean an inch or two closer so all I have to do is whisper to him. “You ever had anyone yank on your balls before? I mean really tug ‘em, hard?”

His lower lip starts to quiver now as he starts to shrink down in his chair, clearly wanting to get further away from me but not having anywhere he can really go. “What … what …”

“There’s points on the soles o’ your feet, all I gotta do is poke nice an’ hard with a stick and you’ll squeal like a pig. Your hands too. It’s all to do with nerve endings, they way they just bunch up in certain places, your body’s made in funny ways and it can be really detrimental for you sometimes when you run into somebody who actually knows what they’re doing.” Again I lower my voice so I can whisper as I lean close enough to breathe right into his ear. “Your back? That thing’s a fucking playground, believe me. I’m gonna go nuts on that.”

When I let my gravity land me back on all four chair-legs again I keep the smile on my face, brushing my errant hair up out of my face again so he can get a good look at my eyes. He’s looking at me like I’m some kind of demon now, I swear, he’s completely terrified of me. He’s clearly been sweating the whole time we’ve had him in here, and not just from the pain of the injuries Gael gave him, but he’s thoroughly bathed in it now. That makes me smile a touch wider. “Course half the work’s already been done for me, ain’t it? I could go to work on that shoulder o’ yours first, that’d give me a nice little opening before I’d even have to think about moving onto virgin territory.”

If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

For a long, drawn out moment he just watches me, eyes wide, lips drawn to a tight line, breathing fast through his nostrils while the sweat continues to pour down his face. I keep my eyes locked on his the whole time, but then I got him transfixed now, don’t reckon he could look away if he tried. The room’s become very quiet now, the only sound now is his rapid breathing, and in the back of my mind I wonder how much I’ve worked on the nerves of my friends who’ve just had to listen to me talk like that. If they’re wondering just how far I actually would go if he actually calls me on what’s not really a bluff in the first place.

That’s the thing that’s gnawing on me a little, that I’m working really hard to keep from showing as I look at him. It’s not that I can’t do all that shit I just said I could, and maybe worse. Problem is I know, if really pushed, I actually could. And it scares the hell outta me …

And then he licks his lips. He probably doesn’t even quite realise he’s done it, he just can’t help it. I’ve got him. So I stand up, casual as I can, and he flinches back as I take hold of my chair, turn it round, and plant myself again, the right way round this time. With nothing between us now, which sends a message all on its own. When I lean forward this time I’m not smiling anymore. “All right then, how about I just start folding your fingers back on themselves? Don’t need to draw blood to do that.”

“No! Fuck no! Gods, please …” He manages to stay in the chair when he flinches back this time, but it’s a bloody miracle. “Don’t touch me!”

“That’s kinda how this works, though.” I reach out again, both hands this time, a little more forceful now. “Tough break, kid. Pardon the choice o’ words, mind.”

“Stop!! Please, for the love o’ fuck, just stop! I’ll talk, just … just don’t! Please!”

Watching the tears pour down his cheeks as his dam breaks, I don’t have to look down to know his bladder’s gone too. Fuck … that worked better than I hoped it would.

When I look up at Shay I’m a little taken aback by what I see in her face, it’s an expression I’ve never even seen her make before. She looks genuinely disgusted with me, and more than just a little bit, too. It’s all I can do to keep from letting the shock show on my face, and I can’t hold her gaze for long at all. Gael won’t even look at me now, I notice, and even Darwyn seems a little uncomfortable.

Thel … she doesn’t seem at all shocked like the others, she’s just watching me with cool curiosity, and I’m sure she’s trying to work me out again, taking this new information into consideration. I wonder what she might’ve done if it was her taking the lead here.

I take a deep breath and sit back again, letting it out slow as I reach up and brush my hair back a little more forcefully now. My hands are shaking, ever so slightly, I can only just pick up on it but it’s telling enough, so it’s harder still for me to keep my face good and straight as I pick my right foot up and set it down across my left knee as I fold my arms. I wait for the boy to calm down a little, for his breathing to slow enough that it doesn’t look like he’s on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

“All right, then. Guess we’ll start simple.”

Wull’s breath shudders when he lets it out, but his voice doesn’t break much, which is a good enough sign, I suppose. “Um … yeah. Sure.”

“Who d’you work for?”

He doesn’t answer right away, instead licking his lips again and reaching up, very slowly indeed, to mop his brow with the back of a very shaky right hand, like he doesn’t want to seem like any kind of threat at all. Finally he takes another breath, and this time it doesn’t hitch when he lets it out. “Vandryss.”

The name doesn’t ring any bells. I turn to Darwyn now, wanting to gauge her own reaction, but she’s not looking my way, eyes conspicuously focused on the floor now. I clear my throat very loudly, and she almost jumps out of her skin when she realises I’m trying to address her now. She regards me with wide eyes for a moment, then shakes her head, and it seems she’s with it enough to realise what I was asking before delivering a negative.

Thel shakes her head too when I regard her, but I’m less surprised there. I know she’s not really local, even if she might work out of here like we seem to have adopted Hocknar as our own these days. After a moment’s consideration, she adds a shrug to drive the point home.

Okay, maybe I need to press a little. “Who’s Vandryss?”

Wull watches me for another moment, wariness in his eyes again, but when I glance down at his hand, then back up to his eyes again, flexing my fingers as slow punctuation, this seems to be warning enough. “This creepy bitch, she’s the one we all answer to.”

I look up to Gael for a moment, and at least this time they’re actually willing to look at me again, a little bit of a frown touching their brow now. Turning back, I take a moment to choose my next question. “Wizard type, is she?”

This makes him frown too, narrowing his eyes a little, but it’s just from confusion. “No, she’s … ain’t really sure, to be honest. She’s a fighter, like you an’ these two, but … I dunno. There’s something wrong with ‘er.”

Sitting forward again, I lace my fingers with deliberate slowness, more to keep my growing urgency in check, really. “Wrong how? Tell me about her.”

“I dunno …” He licks his lips again, frown deepening, and thinks for a moment. “Thought she had some elf blood, ‘least to start, cuz her ears are kinda pointy, but … she ain’t got that glow, y’know? I mean she’s pale, but … I dunno. More it’s just sallow, like she never got any sun a day in her life. Hair’s white as bone, too. Might mistake her for an albino ‘cept for her eyes.”

“What about ‘em?”

“They’re green. Like really green. Got a proper glow in ‘em, it’s kinda fucked. I saw her in the shadows one time and I swear I saw her eyes way before I saw the rest of her stepping out. Creeped the hell outta me.”

Again, I look up at Gael, who just shakes their head again, frowning deep. I’ll admit, that description ain’t ringing any bells with me, either. “Anything else?”

“She got a whole lot o’ sharp teeth in her mouth, too. And black nails.”

Yeah, that don’t sound right either. Better ask Yes about that when we’re done in here, see if it rings any bells with her. She knows a whole lot more about dark, wrong shit than I’ll ever learn, I reckon. Taking a deep breath, I try to keep my voice level as I plough on. “So how come she’s in charge o’ your group, if you don’t even know who or … honestly, what she is? I thought you said you and yours were s’posed to be tight.”

“We are!” He sits forward for the first time, hands on his knees as he speaks with fervour, and there’s some strange new note to his voice now, might be desperation. It rattles me a touch to hear it. “We’re like a family, like you said. Vik was the boss for all the time we was coming up, then suddenly one day that creepy bitch just turned up and he was like, hey guys, this is Vandryss. She’s in charge now.” He ain’t flinching when he looks in my eyes now, and he looks desperate as he sounds now. “It was fucked up, but … he’s still Vik. There’s nothing wrong with him, he ain’t acting any different. So we just … went along with it.”

“Just like that? That didn’t seem fucked up to you?”

“Vik’s the boss, he looks out for us and he knows what’s best. So he decided to take orders from this … Vandryss, I ain’t gonna argue.”

“Vik … he’s the one in the wolf mask, right?” Thel interjects now, taking a little step closer on my side, arms still folded. She’s still playing it cool, but … there’s a little bit of an edge now.

“In the …” Wull looks up at her now, blinks for a moment, almost like he’s never actually seen her before, even surprised to see her in the first place. Maybe he’s just rattled by this conversation. “No, that’s Tog. He handles my crew. There’s like … I dunno, half a dozen of ‘em, maybe? Tog answers to Vik, so like I said, he’s the boss. I mean sure, if Tog says we do something, we’ll do it, but if it sounds dumb we’ll question it first. But not Vik. What he says goes.”

Wow … this feels a little like we’re getting talked round in circles, it’s giving me a headache. I look at Thel and she’s starting to frown too, and when I catch her eye she just shrugs. Turning to Gael, I find they’re as thrown as me, and Shay seems similarly perturbed. Even Darwyn’s thinking hard now.

Okay … well, least we got him talking now. Keep going, then. I take another breath and sit forward again. “So the mark, the one you all got slapped with, who put that on you? Was it this Vandryss, or was it somebody else? A wizard, maybe?”

Wull’s eyes widen a little at that. “Yeah, she … we seen her a few times now. She works with Vandryss. I dunno, she ain’t like her. She’s … I dunno, she’s kinda nice, I guess.”

“Nice? Really?” I look up at Gael again, and they’re moving closer now, leaning on their staff a little as they start listening harder. “How come?”

“When she put these on … I mean, it was done the regular way, they brought in some regular tattooists, couple o’ those pros from the docks, I’m sure. I dunno which ones, ain’t that many of us really bother with that kinda stuff, but … well, like a few of the other I got myself one once before, when I first came up, so I knew they were pretty good, definitely seemed to know what they were doing. They put the tattoos on, but she was there the whole time, every line she was muttering this … I dunno, something under her breath. It was weird, almost didn’t really sound like words, it was more … um …”

“You felt it, more than you heard it.” Gael prompts him “Am I right?”

“I … yeah, it was. That was weird.”

“An incantation. She was focusing on the sigil as it was being transcribed, making sure the magic took hold as required. Did it warm up as it was being applied?”

“Yeah, got proper hot. Whole lot more uncomfortable than the last one, I don’t mind telling you. Nothing I couldn’t live with, mind.” He sets his jaw, narrows his eyes again as he turns back to me. “I’m tough.”

“Course you are.” I try not to sound sarcastic as I say it, but it’s tricky.

Thankfully I don’t reckon he picks up on it, he just looks down again as he thinks. “Yeah, well … no, she was kinda sweet about it, really. She warned me it might hurt more’n I expected, so I guess I was kinda prepared for it anyway. And she apologised about the pain after, which surprised me some. But yeah, she was nice.”

“Tell me about her. What d’you remember?”

“Well, she was … I dunno. She was older, but not really old. Same age my ma would’ve been, maybe, if she were still round. She had some grey in her curls, see, rest was black. And a few wrinkles on her face, but not so many she weren’t still pretty. Well, kinda pretty. Y’know what I mean? How … I dunno … pretty in a certain light, that’s how I heard it said once.” He keeps his face turned down, but he tries a furtive look my way again, and this time I reckon I can spot a little blush starting in his cheeks. “I mean, she was nice to me, okay? Made me remember her easy.”

“You get a name?”

He frowns again, seeming frustrated now. “Um … no. Never got one. Tog said not to ask, said we weren’t getting paid to ask questions.”

“So you’re just goons for hire?” I try not to sound too disappointed, but I don’t reckon I succeed too well. He looks up at me, a little sharper than I’d like, then nods. “Yeah, that’s about bloody right, ain’t it? I take it your boy Tog probably don’t know much more’n you do, not really?”

“I dunno … he likes to make out he’s way more in the loop than he is, sometimes. He’s a flash bastard, so he wants to look like he’s a bigger deal than he is, but yeah, you’re right. He’s clueless as the rest of us, really.”

Nodding, I look over at Darwyn, who’s stood off to the side now, and if I didn’t know better I could think she’s not even following the conversation anymore the way she’s just watching the nearest wall, stroking her chin. Seeing her jogs my memory, though, and I’m glad of it given how loose my brain must be getting now with the fatigue.

“This wizard woman, or Vandryss … whichever one, either of ‘em ever have an orc with ‘em?”

“You mean that massive fucker turned up in the alley earlier?” Wull’s wide-eyed and skittish again, clearly a little rattled by the memory. “First time I seen him. Scared the fuck outta me, honestly didn’t even know he was actually on our side ‘til he started swinging that bloody sword at them.” He nods towards Gael.

Yeah, I didn’t think that was gonna pan out either, not after he said he didn’t really know who the wizard was either. This line of questioning ain’t getting us anywhere. Time to follow a different track.

“You know anything about the folk that’ve been disappearing, at least?”

“The … they what?” Wull looks genuinely scared now, casting about the entire group like he’s looking for anyone who might be able to help him out of any hole he might be about to dig for himself. “No, that ain’t us. We ain’t doing that.”

“But you’re mixed up with that all the same. You do get that, right?”

“Maybe … maybe so, but … that weren’t us. I mean, yeah, we heard about some o’ the other crews being involved in something like that, but it was … I mean that was just rumours, we didn’t know one way or another. All we ever did was muscle-work. I swear.”

Watching him for several beats, I decide I believe him. That proper rattled him, sure, but he was surprised, not guilty. I sit back for a moment, thoughtful now, although part of me also hopes one of the others might pick up the slack too, ‘least now we got the kid cooperating proper.

It’s Darwyn who steps up to it, which takes me by surprise, and the boy too, Wull jumping a little as she steps up to his side and starts speaking to him. “Where’d you get all the gear? The weaponry, the tools, the better armour pieces some o’ your lot were sporting? That’s all Thieves Guild stuff. Means your lot are in deep shit just walking round with it since you clearly ain’t in the Guild in the first place.”

Wull blinks, visibly startled, then looks my way, questioning and a little bit of pleading too. I just look right back, trying to be cold as I can with him right now. “Better answer her, kid. Save you from a whole lot worse if you just come clean.”

“Um … that was from Vandryss too, I reckon. Can’t be sure, it was one o’ the other crews brought it in, but … I mean, you don’t gotta think about it too much, y’know?”

Darwyn hisses through her teeth as she steps back, clearly pissed and I don’t blame her. For just a moment it felt like she might’ve hit on a potential lead, but no, again it makes sense. In a way it tells me something new about this all anyway, something else that makes a worrying but pretty fiendish kinda sense too. They’re being smart about this, using muscle that don’t know any better and keeping ‘em in the dark about what they’re actually doing, only parcelling out the absolute essentials of information so none of ‘em get an actual idea. They’re compartmentalising, and being real clever about it too.

Means we ain’t getting a lead that way. This boy won’t know who’s actually behind this any more than we would. Instead all we’ve really wound up with is a new face with a name we ain’t even seen yet, and a couple confirmations we can’t really do much with. But …

Sitting forward again, I take a long moment to order my thoughts, work out exactly how I want to carry this next question forward, in the very slim chance it might actually pay off with an actual lead, which I worry might be the last one we can get here. So I take a deep breath before I start and hope like hell. “Wull, this is real important, so I want you to think real hard about it, okay?”

The boy blinks again, looking at me for a long moment before licking his lips once more. He’s slow answering too. “Yeah. Sure.”

“I want you to tell me everything you can remember about those tattooists.”