Telling Dia she had four choices, death, being knocked out, being on Toog’s drugs or in the box and blindfolded when she was up, had gone down incredibly much smoother than Arne had expected.
She had, unsurprisingly, chosen the box, but now, seven days later, blindfolded Dia was beginning to show the strain of the confinement by pacing back and forth screaming incoherently at the laughing in her head or slumping silently over, muttering to herself under her breath.
As soon as they entered the city on the evening of the sixth day and got Toog and Dia a nice, blank, lockable room, Arne went in search of temples, preferably for a deity with a sick sense of humour. As soon as dawn happened, he would bring her. They needed her fixed as soon as possible.
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“Of course,” the priestess of the goddess of Peace said, although there was a cautious tone in her voice, like she knew something she wasn’t supposed to. “The goddess is merciful and will aid those who carry peace within them.”
“Sure,” Arne said, “just lead the way. The creature that is mentally attacking my colleague is very close to driving her insane.”
The priestess led them to a side chamber off the main entrance hall in the calm, white, austere Temple of Peace. Arne followed, leading the blindfolded Dia. He was outwardly calm but inwardly annoyed at the way Dia was grinding her teeth and pressing her fingers into his arm like claws and how the damned priestess kept turning her head, like she was afraid he was some sort of rapist who would suddenly attack her.
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“Step into the sanctum, please,” the priestess said, entering through the doorway to a large, empty chamber and holding the door for them.
Arne looked at her, but the woman in the pale pink robes stared at the floor. Something was amiss, but they had come this far and if they attacked they were doubly screwed, since the Laughing Voice would then be able to pinpoint them by the temple where a lot of people just died. Sighing at himself, he led Dia over the threshold and immediately cried out in agony. Waves of white-hot pain shot through his leg and spread into his entire body, like being stabbed with a thousand small burning knives.
He felt Dia go rigid next to him and her fingers dug into his arm painfully while a thin howl of pain came from her lips.
With a great effort, Arne tore himself free of the agony and stepped backwards, hauling Dia with him. He nearly toppled with the effort of steadying them both. The pain immediately subsided and only the echo of it was left to course through his body. And then came the anger. “What the Hells, lady!” he shouted. “Is that how Peace intends to help?”
He felt Dia tense and heard her little growl and quickly drew her closer, her back to his chest, and grabbed both her arms tightly.
“Let me go right now. Chuckles can eat a tentacle and die, I don’t care!” Dia snarled under her breath.
“The goddess tests those who enter her domain,” the priestess said gently with well-studied sadness in her voice. “The pain you experienced is the goddess telling us that helping your friend would just cause an unreasonable, unreasonable, amount of further strife and distress. Seek peace in your hearts and the goddess will reconsider her decision.”
“Dia! Relax…” Arne tightened his grip on the squirming, fuming, blindfolded life-mage while staring daggers at the priestess, still standing demurely inside the pain-room. “If you Dia them all,” he whispered, “then we will be even easier to track. Relax. I have a backup plan. Come on. You will take vengeance later when your brain is your own.”
Dia was still muttering and stomping in fury but allowed him to lead her out. That was truly surprising.