Stalking Darkness

Seregil’s. He was as likely to launch into a discussion of Plenimaran war tactics or a detailed comparison of Plenimaran and Skalan musical conventions, although his discourses often took a darker turn.
    “Torture is an undervalued art form,” he remarked as they strolled up and down with Vargûl Ashnazai one brisk morning. “Most people assume that if you cause enough pain you will achieve your end. While this may be true in some cases, I’ve always found that outright brutality is often counterproductive. Consider your own recent experience, Alec. Without drawing so much as a drop of blood, we were able to extract every scrap of information from you.”
    “Necromancy is a subtle art,” Ashnazai interjected smugly.
    “It can be,” Mardus amended dryly, “although ‘subtle’ is hardly how I’d describe many of the necromantic procedures I have witnessed. But to return to the subject at hand, I assure you that had it not been for the prohibition against shedding blood, I could have accomplished the same result without such an extraordinary expenditure of magic.”
    Giving Alec a poisonous smile, Ashnazai asked, “I am curious, my lord, as to what your method would have been?”
    Mardus clasped his hands behind him, considering the question as coolly as if Ashnazai had asked what he thought the price of grain would be this year. “I often begin with the genitals. While the blood loss is negligible, the pain and emotional anguish are exquisite. Once that level of pain is established, the prisoner is usually quite easy to manipulate. In Alec’s case, I could leave him still fit for the slave markets. Only a fool would destroy such a pretty creature unnecessarily.”
    Trapped at sea in such company, Alec nearly succumbed to despair. By day he was the toy of his executioners. By night the muffled cries that sometimes came up from the hold below increased his sense of helplessness. The few times he dreamed of better days with Seregil or his father only made things worse when he woke up. Lying in the darkness, he would try to recall the smell of their rooms at the Cockerel or the color of Beka’s eyes. Mostly,however, he thought of Seregil and cursed Mardus for the seeds of doubt he’d planted.
    “He didn’t abandon me. He didn’t!” he whispered into the darkness one night when his spirits were at their lowest. He forced himself to recall his friend’s grin when Alec had mastered a new skill, the delight Seregil took in tormenting Thero, the grip of Seregil’s hand when he’d pulled him back from the edge of the cliff after the ambush below Cirna.
    And the way he’d looked that night at the Street of Lights. Alec suddenly remembered the guilty pleasure he’d felt that evening, and later at the casual touch of Seregil’s hand resting on his shoulder or the back of his neck—
    His cheeks went warm now at the memory of that touch. It was too painful to think of, now that he’d never feel it again—
    “Stop it!” he hissed aloud. “He could come. He could be following right now!”
    But not even Micum could track a ship across water.
    Foundering in his own misery, Alec pulled the thin blanket around himself and tried to recall fragments of conversation he and Seregil had shared, just to imagine a friendly voice. He dreamed of him that night, although he couldn’t recall any particulars when he awoke. But something had come back to him, nonetheless. Seated on the bunk that morning, he chewed his breakfast thoughtfully, summoning various lessons Seregil had instilled in him over the long months of their acquaintance.
    Everyone on board considered him powerless, a prisoner of little consequence beyond whatever fate Mardus had in store for him. It was time to put aside fear and begin to pay attention, real attention, to what was going on around him, and then to ask questions—small, inconsequential ones at first—as he tested the water. After all, he wouldn’t die any faster for at least trying.
    Learn and live
, Seregil’s voice whispered approvingly at the back of his mind.
    The soldiers’ newfound wariness of him made it slightly easier to talk to them, though Alec quickly discovered that all that mattered to them was their unswerving loyalty to Mardus, a fact which made any overtures to them pointless. But he did learn that they were making for some point on the northwestern coast of Plenimar.
    Later that same morning he made more of an effort at conversation with Mardus during their