The Unseen Hand

Ch 26: Dessian Mercy

Neylen stepped forward and helped the woman to her feet. He spoke in a soothing tone. "Then you have nothing to fear. Please, do not be afraid. My temper is far cooler than that of our beloved ruler. Indulge me with a moment's conversation before your release."

Yara's eyes were wary. She had been shown naught but misery since she had been brought to the palace. "Conversation?" she asked.

Neylen nodded. "Only if it pleases you."

The woman nodded, sensing a glimmer of hope. "I want to help, of course. I have never broken the law. I mind my own business, I do."

"I am pleased to hear it," Neylen beamed. His genial tone grew effusive, "Loyalty is well rewarded."

"Thank you for your kindness, Majster. Am I free to go now?"

"Certainly! I am sure you wish to be out of those filthy clothes. I shall arrange to have you provided with new attire. Something fine perhaps, a suitable reward for your cooperation. What is your opinion of Dessian silk?"

Yara ran a hand through her matted hair, pushing it back so that she could study her interrogator more closely. "Dessian silk is among the finest in the world, but I live a modest life. Sunlight would be gift enough."

"Nonsense, sunlight is only the beginning of my gratitude for your forthrightness. You shall have both in abundance."

The woman dropped to her knees and wrapped her trembling hands around Neylen's ankles before kissing his muck-encrusted moccasins. "All holy Cel bless you and yours, sir. I have two birds, lovely things from Naraj that will be happy to see me."

"Naraj! Have you been there?"

The woman sobbed. The stress of her incarceration, though brief, had made her question whether she would die in the palace dungeons. "No, sir, but I have heard tales of the Black City."

"Oh, it is exquisite! We call it Naraj ne'Doqua e Dessia. It means Naraj, the Jewel of Dessia. There is no city more fabulous in the world. Her obsidian towers put those of A'diel to shame." Neylen paused, looking around the chamber with disgust. "But this is no place to talk of such magnificence. Come, let us seek sunlight and fairer vistas."

Neylen helped the woman to her feet. He led her out of the cell through a low stone arch and into a hall lit by oil lamps. The woman walked before the Dessian, not knowing where she was being guided. Behind her, Neylen followed. They passed vaulted stone cells. Most were empty. The ones that were occupied were silent.

At the end of the hall, Neylen extended his hand, urging the woman to climb a mossy stairway. "Rigo is holding court," Neylen explained. "We cannot have you pass through the halls looking like a pauper. It would cause a scandal. I'm afraid we'll have to exit through the upper dungeons to the back garden."

They climbed several flights before arriving at a landing where Neylen knocked upon a barred door with a peculiar rhythm. When it swung open, a gush of fetid air rushed into the stairwell, bearing with it groans and agonized screams.

"My apologies, we are quite full at the moment. I ask that you steel your nerves."

A shiver ran down the woman's back at the sight of the sprawling dungeon. Low stone arches joined thick pillars, creating an arcade that cut through the heart of the dark prison. Branching off from the main corridor were smaller passages, each harboring a theater of pain. The first chamber they passed housed several suspended man-shaped cages, heavy with their sorrowful burdens.

Neylen ushered Yara past the prisoners' outstretched arms, deaf to their pleas for mercy. The dank stench of sweat and feces mingled with smoke and burned meat. "Come, let us not linger here. These sorry wretches do not understand the value of cooperation like you do, my dear. Fresh air awaits just ahead, do you see it?" Neylen pointed to the far end of the main corridor, where a jailer stood by a bright doorway. Through the archway the sun shone bright—a promise of Cel on the far side of Hel.