Amber and Iron - Margaret Weis [107]
One way to restore memory was through pain. Mina had ordered torture used on her prisoners. The dark knights had been experts at it. She had watched men suffer and sometimes die, confident she was doing right, serving a laudable cause—the cause of the One God.
Now she was unsure, uncertain. She was starting to doubt. This morning she had been angry enough that she could have flayed the skin from the monk’s bones and never felt a qualm. On reflection she wondered: Can I torture a man in cold blood? If I did, can I trust information gained by duress?
Galdar had always been dubious about torture as a means to elicit information.
“Men will say anything to stop the pain,” he had once warned her.
Mina knew the truth of that. She was the one in torment, and she would do anything to stop her pain.
There was another way. The dead have no secrets. Not from the Lord of Death.
Putting her hand to the necklace of black pearls, Mina made up her mind. She would tell Chemosh everything. Lay her soul bare to him. He would help her drag the truth out of the monk.
Mina grasped the necklace and tore it from around her neck and tossed it into the sea. Her heart eased, she returned to the castle, dressed herself in something pretty, and went to seek out Chemosh.
She found the Lord of Death in his study, playing khas with Krell.
Mina and the death knight exchanged looks that acknowledged their mutual loathing, then Krell went back to studying the board. Mina observed him more closely. He looked the same cruel, boorish brute he always looked, yet there was a sleek smugness about him that she found new and troubling. She also found it troubling that he and her lord seemed quite cozy together. Chemosh was actually laughing at something Krell had been saying as she entered the study.
Mina started to speak, but Chemosh forestalled her. He cast her a negligent glance.
“Did you enjoy your swim, Mistress?”
Her heart trembled. His tone was chill, his words an insult. Mistress! He might have been speaking to a stranger.
“Yes,” Mina replied, and went on quickly before she lost her nerve. “My lord, I must talk with you.” She flicked a glance at Krell. “In private.”
“I am in the middle of a game,” Chemosh returned languidly. “It appears as though Krell might beat me. What do you think, Krell?”
“I have you on the run, my lord,” said the death knight without enthusiasm.
Mina swallowed. “After your game, then, my lord?”
“I am afraid not,” said Chemosh. He reached out and moved a knight, sliding it across the board and using it to knock one of Krell’s pawns to the floor. “I know all about your lover, Mina, so there is no need for you to keep lying to me.”
“Lover?” Mina repeated, astonished. “I do not know what you are talking about, my lord. I have no lover.”
“What about the man you have hidden away in the grotto?” Chemosh asked, and he twisted around in the chair to look her full in face.
Mina trembled. She could think of ten things to say in her defense, but none of them sounded plausible. She opened her mouth, but no words came out. The hot blood rushed to her cheeks, and she knew in an instant that her flush and her silence had just proclaimed her guilt. “My lord,” she said desperately, finding her voice. “I can explain—”
“I am not interested in explanations,” Chemosh said coolly, and turned back to his game. “I would slay you for your betrayal, Mistress, but I would then be plagued for eternity by your pitiful ghost. Besides, your death would be a waste of a valuable commodity.”
He did not look at her as he continued to speak, but pondered his next move on the board.
“You are to take command of the Beloved, Mistress. They listen to you, obey you. You have battlefield experience. You are the right commander, therefore, to mold them into an army and ready them to march