Page 32 of War Mage

“This is true,” muses the magistrate. “We all know that mages are to be playthings for Our Lord only. But why did you not command her to save you in the storm, if her Affinity is air?”

“I did not have time to fit her to an Obedience Collar, as you can see,” I say, gesturing back to Adara’s bare throat. Obedience Collars are often used on slave mages to force them to comply with commands or suffer extreme pain. It makes it so that it is safe for slavers to keep them out of iron and use their powers for themselves. It is similar to Adara’s tattoo in that the mage that it is on cannot use their magic to attack the one who put it on them, but they can still use their magic in other ways. We didn’t put one on Adara though because we didn’t want anyone to think that they could have her use her powers and then discover that we lied about her Affinity. The tattoo Lady Melelea gave her was a safer choice. I continue, “She also is not broken yet. Grazrath likes having the privilege of doing that himself.”

“Breaking a slave of their will is the most amusing part,” comments Magistrate Zadicus. “But it is unfortunate for you that you could not use her to save your crew and cargo.”

“Most unfortunate,” I agree. “But I will be able to rebuild once I get the slave price for the mage. Anyway, I told all this to the lighthouse keeper and he seemed to understand. He offered me some mulled wine to help with the chill of the waves. I was grateful . . . until I scented nightberries.”

“Youscentednightberries?” the magistrate questions. “How? They are the subtlest of poisons.”

“I grew up in the woods of Orik and was taught from a young age the faint differences in the scent of nightberries so as not to accidentally poison my family with my foraging,” I lie. “I am more familiar with them than most and so I ascertained his intentions immediately. I confronted him and that’s when he attacked me.”

“Is this true, slave?” the magistrate asks, surprising me by looking past me at Adara. “Is what your master says how it happened?”

I hear Adara hesitate behind me, but I’m not worried. I know from our past interrogations that she is a good liar. Just not good enough to fool an orc’s nose.

“I was unconscious at first,” Adara finally starts, keeping her voice soft and unchallenging. A difficulty for her, I’m sure. “But I woke with the commotion. I saw the orc fighting with the vampire, who said something about the orc needing to die because he had no taste for orc blood and that he deserved to keep me. I startled at his words, crying out, and that distracted the vampire long enough so the orc could grab him and snap his neck.”

“It is true, my lord magistrate,” the guard Gair surprises me by saying, “that Dristan was known to dislike orc blood. He complained loudly, to whoever would listen, when he had to feed from an orc at the public stalls.”

“Hmm,” hums the magistrate, considering. “Your words do ring of the truth and even your slave who you claim has no loyalty to you vouches for your words. So, it does seem like self-defense and defense of Lord Grazrath’s property. But you are an outsider who killed a citizen and the law is very clear on the fate of the outsider in that case: beheading.”

I inject some fear and anger into my voice, playing the part of Vargan. “What about the higher law of hospitality, placed upon us by the gods themselves? He violated his sacred duty as the keeper of the lighthouse to house and shelter castaways and tried to murder and steal my property, property that is destined for your own lord.”

“This is true,” muses the magistrate. “What would you have me do, then? When two laws oppose each other so drastically?”

“I would ask you for travel papers,” I declare boldly, even as I am wary. Something about his attitude is setting off alarm bells in my head. “So that I can deliver my promised goods to Lord Grazrath. In the grand scheme of things, one lighthouse keeper is not as important as Lord Grazrath receiving his due.”

The vampire rises from his seat and begins to descend down the steps. “Pretty words, pirate. To think you have such loyalty to Our Lord, it warms the heart.”

“I am loyal to my customers, as any good merchant is,” I say, still wary as he gets closer to me.

“Notallyour customers, it seems,” remarks the quiet vampire. “I am out a blood slave I was so looking forward to because you chose to let it sink to the bottom of the ocean.”

That warning in my head grows louder. “I will make it up to you,” I promise him recklessly, trying to placate him. “Two, no, three, trolls at my next shipment. Two males and a female so that you can breed more.”

“What a kind gesture,” Magistrate Zadicus says, but his low words sound mocking. “But I’m afraid that I, like my lord, am not very forgiving of failure and your losing the rest of the shipment of slaves is a grave failure indeed. That, added to the fact that you killed a Barakrini citizen demands immediate repayment. In fact, I think you should pay for it with your life.”

In a blink, the vampire is behind me, kicking out at the backs of my knees. My warrior’s training instinctively wants to avoid the blow, but I stay still and allow him to drive me to my knees. I can’t risk my cover being compromised, because that would compromise Adara and the mission. Even if he’s about to kill me.

Once I’m on my knees, the vampire grabs my hair and wrenches my head back. His grip is strong for a human but weak for a vampire and I could break the hold if I wanted to, but I stay still and widen my eyes like I’m afraid.

“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, injecting some fear into my voice, even though I’m not really afraid. Not of dying, at any rate. I knew that it was likely to happen, as soon as I had to kill the lighthouse keeper. Afraid of failing the mission? Yes. Failing my king and queen? Of course.

And failing to protect Adara, whispers an unwelcome part of my thoughts.

The vampire magistrate chuckles lightly, sadism in his tone. “Kill you, pirate? Oh, my dear wretched orc, you will wish that I had killed you when I am done with you.”

His finger strokes my throat with a long sharp nail, almost a loving gesture, tracing along my jugular. Feeling the pump of my blood there, I’d wager.

“No, your sentence is not so merciful as beheading,” Zadicus remarks, hunger in his eyes. “As repayment for your failures and crimes, you will take the place of the troll you cost me.”

He grins, feral and slightly insane. “Looks like I have a new blood slave.”

Chapter 13

Adara

My eyes widen at the vampire’s proclamation. Urim isn’t going to die, but this new development is barely better.

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