Darkspell - Katharine Kerr [173]
“If we can pull him out, anyway,” Nevyn remarked to the fat yellow gnome, who was basking by the fire. “Doubtless they’re heading for Bardek. I wonder how they’ll smuggle him onto a ship. Probably a large chest or suchlike would do.”
The gnome scratched his stomach thoughtfully. Nevyn considered asking Blaen to send a warband after them, but the Hawks had a long head start. Besides, since they were dweomer-trained, they would see the pursuit and be able to hide quite effectively. I could ride with the warband, though, he reminded himself, if we can catch up. It was going to be slow going for the Hawks, after all, as they picked their way through the mountains.
The mountains. Nevyn chuckled to himself while he knelt down by the fire to contact the one dweomer-master in the kingdom who could help him now.
After the Hawks tended their horses, they returned to the campfire. Sarcyn lay unmoving and listened to them talk until he finally puzzled out their names. Dekanny was the taller, the one with the yellowish-brown eyes that bespoke some Anmurdio blood in his veins, while the other, who also seemed to be in charge, was Karlupo. Once they’d eaten, Dekanny knelt down beside Sarcyn and grabbed his wrists to haul his arms up over his head, then pulled up his shirt until it covered his face, blinding him. He lay still, summoning his will and listening to the Hawk humming to himself while he did something at the fire. Finally he came back.
“I’m holding a dagger. I heated it.”
Sarcyn braced himself with every ounce of his will. Dekanny giggled like a girl, then laid the heated steel on Sarcyn’s right nipple. Although the pain seared into his very heart, he made no sound.
“I’m turning it over now, little one.”
The pain bit into his left nipple. He fought to choke back the scream that bubbled up from his throat. Suddenly he felt his bowels gush and empty.
“What a stink! I’ll turn you over and mark your cheeks for that.”
“No you won’t!” Karlupo said from nearby. “You’ve done enough for one night. He’s got to be in decent shape when he reaches home, because the masters will want him to last as long as possible.”
“Ah, he can heal on the ship.”
“I said enough.”
Then the world spun round, and Sarcyn fainted. He woke in the middle of the night to find himself still lying in his own excrement. They’d pulled his shirt down, and the rough linen chafed on his burns, which oozed some sort of liquid. He lay awake for a long time, fighting to keep from moaning, before he fainted again.
In the morning they kicked him awake and hauled him up to a sitting position. Karlupo had made barley porridge in a small kettle and brought a bowl over.
“I’ll untie your hands so you can eat,” he said. “But if you cause the slightest trouble, Dekanny will get some pleasure out of you before we ride.”
Sarcyn turned his head away. He was determined to starve and weaken himself so that he’d die more quickly under the torture.
“You’re going to eat,” Karlupo snapped.
When he still refused, they knelt down on either side of him. Dekanny pried his jaws open while Karlupo shoveled in a spoonful. The stuff gagged him so badly that he had to swallow it out of sheer reflex. They fed him the whole bowl, and the humiliation hurt as much as his burns.
Yet once they were on horseback, the pain took over. The motion of the horse made his shirt rub on the raw burns, and in the hot sun he sweated, adding salt to the friction until he could think of nothing but dying and putting an end to the pain. About midmorning his bound wrists began to swell, making the thong cut into the puffy flesh. By the time they stopped for the noon meal, his lower lip hurt, too. He realized that in fighting the pain, he’d chewed it open.
“Are you going to eat, little one?” Karlupo said. “Or do you want us to feed you again?”
“I’ll eat.”
Karlupo untied his hands and stood over him