The Enterprise of Death - Jesse Bullington [142]
“Well well well, beast, it’s been a long time.” Omorose beamed at her old slave, as unblemished and beautiful as she had been the day she left her harem, unlike the weather-burned, haggard witch who cried in her bonds, only her chestnut-dark face jutting out of the cocoon of sackcloth and chain like some miserable caterpillar interrupted mid-metamorphosis. “You look good, beast, quite good like that, all tied up and bleating.”
Awa realized she had been trying to speak through the gag, and went silent. She had to think, she had to find out what had happened, where she was, what they had done with—
“We’ve got your friends, beast,” said Omorose, and Awa felt herself lifted up. She was in some sort of dungeon. Not that she had seen one before, but she made out stone walls, long wooden tables with shackles and cranks, an utter lack of windows— a dungeon to be sure.
“Is it safe to, to move her?” An older man she had not seen before had spoken as he hoisted her off the ground with the assistance of two of the bounty hunters.
“They got her here, didn’t they?” snapped Omorose. “If a week on a horse didn’t rattle her loose then putting her on the table shouldn’t be too risky, should it, Ash?”
The man grunted even with the bounty hunters to help him, and then Awa was laid flat on one of the tables. From up here she could see the two other swaddled shapes on the floor, and then they rolled her on her side and the man, Ash, looked across Awa at Omorose. She held up a knife, Awa’s ibex knife, the necromancer realized with a shudder, and then a cold thought came to her—what if Omorose had found the book, found a way to break the curse, to hurt her despite being an undead creature? Then the knife sank into the sweaty cloth bundling Awa and Omorose began cutting around the chains, tearing away the sack in wide swaths.
One of the bounty hunters said something to Kahlert, who glanced sadly at Awa and then disappeared from view. They had used much more chain this time, the man who had initially seized her holding a loop of it around her shoulders as his fellows beat her until she went still, and then they had locked it into place, covered her with the hooded sack, and applied yet more chain. Bands of the iron links tightly encircled her ankles and knees, and a single length of it wrapped around her torso many times over, pinning her arms to her side; even with the sack cut away from her Awa had no hope of squirming loose, and she looked helplessly up at Omorose.
“— an extra ten to ride down to Wolfach and find Olaf,” Kahlert was telling the man. “Obviously the lead there is useless at best and fraudulent at worst, and if they already purchased the alleged witch then the barkeep at the Wolf’s Step will know who has taken my money. I know there’s plenty of room for duplicity in such a convoluted matter, so I shall make it simple for you—so long as the money I gave to Olaf for the acquisition of the witch is returned to me, you shall have a reasonable cut, and I don’t care if the money is currently held by Olaf, the barkeep, or the amateur witch hunters of Wolfach. Once you’ve acquired my funds please inform Olaf, and the barkeep, for that matter, that until further notice I’m not paying out for sorcerers and—”
“You’re going to suffer in here.” Omorose rolled Awa onto her back again and leaned down, her face hovering just above Awa’s as she whispered to her, “He’s alive, beast, think about that. He can do anything he wants to you. Annnnything I can think of. And I’ve thought of a lot since last we saw one another, since last you tried to murder me.”
“Thank you, Inquisitor,” said the bounty hunter. Awa heard a door open and close, and then the sound of metal sliding on wood. Omorose straightened up and Kahlert came back into view at Awa’s feet, his face grim.