Tainted

Chapter Ten - Binks

Binks follows the guard deeper into the prison, her heart pumping wildly against her chest. Could she truly be going home? She hasn't exactly been behaving, especially since that thing with the guard and her bow, but she has been doing all the right things within the arena itself. She's been winning money for the warden and she's been flirting with the king and yes she's a Chattan but the king must be able to overlook that, mustn't he? Especially since that thing with the—

"Here." The guard stops suddenly and Binks has to throw her tail backwards for balance to keep from falling into him.

They're stopped outside an elaborately carved mahogany door. Animals of all kinds seem to struggle to break free from the wood. It's a door Binks has heard about, and it makes her afraid.

"You should warn a girl before you do something like that. I might've...fallen for you." Binks says quickly, trying to cover up her fear. She winks.

The guard says nothing.

Binks pouts in response, her ears drooping. Ezzi would've laughed at that joke.

A separate red feather-plumed guard leans over to pull open the massive brass door handle hanging from a wooden Elch's snout. The door swings open without a sound, and Binks can hear herself breathing far louder than normal.

Any snarky comment she could make dies in her throat. The room is richly-lit with torches reflected in silver mirrors, casting light all around the high-ceilinged room. A plush rug unfurls before the door, its overlapping pattern of "WP" criss-crossing the fibers. A green suede couch sits against one wood-paneled wall, while shelves of books stand beside, their leather spines looking untouched.

It's the warden's office, and few who enter ever come out again.

"So...I'll just pop inside then?" Binks asks.

The guard gives her a blank stare.

"Tough crowd," Binks says. "Maybe we can start over. I'm Binks."

"Come inside, Binks," the warden's voice snakes around the door and the fur stands up on Binks's arms. She hadn't seen him in the darkened corner of the room. He sits at a heavy desk, a jeweled globe standing on a golden pedestal beside him.

Binks smooths the front of her damp tunic, oddly wishing she had something nicer to wear. She steps inside, keeping her ears firmly upright in a pose she hopes is positive and inviting.

"Warden," Binks says quietly, all humor gone from her voice. She can annoy the guards, but she can't do the same to the warden. He'll kill her for it.

"Sit down," Warden says, indicating the short-legged chair before him.

Binks pads across the rug, relishing in its soft feel against her feet, and sits down at the desk. The chair puts her at least a head shorter than the warden, and she has to straighten her spine to bring her eyes level to his chin.

Warden leans back in his chair and puts his feet up on the table, crossing his legs. He's wearing knee-high black boots that shine so much they reflect the torchlight.

Binks catches herself watching the flames flicker against the leather and she has to pull her gaze back to the warden.

"I have a proposition for you," Warden says. He towers his fingers together and stares at Binks imperiously over the tips. It's a look Binks can imagine the king pulling off, and she wonders if the warden's been taking notes.

"I'm listening," Binks says. She wiggles her ears for emphasis.

The warden twitches, as if trying to get rid of an annoying fly.

"Don't do that again," he says.

Binks slowly folds her ears back against her head.

"Now," the warden says, momentarily satisfied, "I have a situation." He adjusts his hands to pick at something beneath a long, brittle nail.

"I have a prisoner who has greatly betrayed the king, and who has greatly betrayed me," Warden says.

Binks works to keep her breathing even. Please don't be me, she silently begs the Goddess, please don't be me.

"The king and I want to make an example of this prisoner. We want to show the world that behavior like this will not be tolerated. But it will not be easy to make an example of this prisoner, and that is where your special proclivities will be most helpful." The warden emphasizes the last two words.

Binks frowns, not understanding. "I'm sorry, sir, but what is it you want me to do?"

Warden takes his time with his nails. He examines each one, before slowly raising his eyes to meet Binks's.

"The prisoner is our little Thief, Mira," the warden says, smiling, "and I want you to kill her."