Stalking Darkness

snatched it away and laughed as Alec jumped back.
    “What? You afraid of Gossol, little man child?” He offered the cloak, pulled it back again with a sneer, then advanced on Alec, backing him into the narrow space between the bunk and the wall. “You be afraid, good. You break mouth of Gossol. Think whores like this mouth now? Eh? You know whore, I think.” Gossol made a lewd gesture. “Whores don’t like this broken mouth. Maybe you like, eh?”
    Shoving Alec back against the wall hard enough to knock the breath out of him, he pinned him there with the weight of his body and kissed him savagely on the mouth. Alec struggled furiously, but Gossol held him fast with one hand and ran the other up Alec’s belly to his nipple and gave it a vicious twist.
    With a snarl, Alec gave up trying to push the heavy man off and instead bit him on the lip.
    Gossol pulled away and drew back his fist, but Alec beat him to the punch. The moment his arms were free, he drove his fist into the startled guard’s face and felt the satisfying crunch of bone as Gossol’s nose splintered.
    Maddened, he grappled with Alec again, throwing him back onto the hard bunk and locking a hand around his windpipe. As Alec fought for breath he heard someone else storm in, cursing in Plenimaran.
    Tildus dragged the enraged soldier off and struck him hard across the jaw before pushing him into the arms of the other soldiers waiting at the door.
    “Hell damn little bastard fool!” Tildus shouted, seeing blood on Alec’s face and chest. He barked an order to another soldier in the companionway, then rounded on Alec again. “If any of this isyours, you dead as Gossol. No good if damaged. Mardus slice you up like an eel, eat your
rezhari
for dinner!”
    Someone fetched a bucket of water and a rag and Tildus set about sponging the blood off Alec and looking for wounds.
    As the guards pulled him this way and that, Alec considered what the captain had just let slip; Mardus wanted him with a whole skin, no blood spilled. That explained why they’d tortured him in the manner they had, but not why it was necessary.
    When Tildus had finished, he pushed Alec back onto the bunk and threw him the cloak. “You lucky bastard today. No cuts.”
    “Very lucky indeed.”
    Looking past Tildus and the guards, Alec saw Mardus standing in the doorway with Vargûl Ashnazai.
    “There has been some unpleasantness, I understand,” Mardus continued, giving Tildus an ominous look.
    The captain rattled off a terse reckoning in his own tongue. Mardus answered curtly in the same, and motioned to the necromancer.
    Smiling thinly, Vargûl Ashnazai made his own inspection of Alec. “The boy remains unblemished, my lord.”
    “I’m glad to hear it. It would have been a great pity to have him come so close to our destination and then go to waste. Come, Alec, walk with me. There’s something I think you’ll enjoy.”
    Alec doubted it, but there was no choice but to obey. Under close guard, he followed Mardus above.
    It was an achingly beautiful day. The sky arched over the rolling sea like a deep blue bowl. The ship cut through the white-capped waves, her striped sails filled by a sweet following wind that sang through the yards and seemed to cleanse some of the stench of captivity from his skin.
    A large square of white canvas had been nailed to the deck just below the forward battle platform. Irtuk Beshar knelt at the center of it in an attitude of meditation, her hideous hands curled on her knees.
    For the first time, Alec saw how most of the sailors and marines gave her a wide berth. Those who had to pass her kept their distance and averted their eyes.
    This was also the first time he’d been able to observe her with any detachment. As usual, she wore rich, elaborate robes that contrasted hideously with her scabrous head and hands. A few wisps of long dark hair still clung to her scalp, and over it she wore a sortof veil fashioned from tiny gold chains and beads. Kneeling there in the bright sunshine, she looked as fragile as the dried carapace of a locust, but Alec knew better all too well. In the Orëska museum he’d seen the hands of another dyrmagnos, who’d been hacked to pieces and scattered. Even after a century, those hands still moved. Looking down at the small figure still meditating in front of him, Alec shuddered, wondering what the true extent of her power was.
    Captain Tildus shouted something in Plenimaran and a contingent of marines lined up in two