The Ruby Knight

performed.’
    ‘You may not wish to, My Lord,’ she warned him ominously. ‘It’s necessary for Bevier to see the full extent of your sister’s perversions for him to be cured of his obsession. Your presence as the owner of the house is necessary, but if you stand just outside the room, it will suffice.’
    ‘No, Madame, witnessing what happened here may stiffen my resolve. If my sister cannot be restrained by confinement, I may find it necessary to take sterner measures.’
    ‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.’
    ‘This is the door to the room,’ the count said, producing another key. He unlocked the door and opened it wide. The sickening stench of blood and decaying flesh washed out over them.
    By the flickering light of the torch, Sparhawk saw immediately why this chamber had inspired such horror. A rack stood in the centre of the blood-stained floor, and cruel hooks jutted from the walls. He winced when he saw that many of the hooks had gobbets of blackened flesh clinging to them. On one wall hung the gruesome implements of the torturer’s trade, knives, pincers, branding irons and needle-sharp hooks. There were also thumb-screws and an iron boot, as well as assorted whips.
    ‘This may take some time,’ Sephrenia said, ‘and we must complete the task before morning. Kurik, take the torch and hold it as high over your head as you can. Sparhawk, hold the spear in readiness. Something may try to interfere.’ She took Bevier’s arm and led him towards the rack. ‘All right, Bevier,’ she said to him, ‘wake up.’
    Bevier blinked and looked around in confusion. ‘What is this place?’ he said.
    ‘You’re here to watch, not to talk, Bevier,’ she told him crisply. She began to speak in Styric, her fingers moving rapidly in the air in front of her. Then she pointed at the torch to release the spell.
    At first nothing seemed to happen, but then Sparhawk saw a faint movement near the brutal rack. The figure was dim and hazy at first, but then the torch flared up, and he could see it more clearly. It was the form of a woman, and he recognized her face. She was the Pelosian woman he had seen emerging from the Styric house in Chyrellos. Her face was also the face of the succubus that had hovered over Bevier’s bed earlier this night. She was naked, and her face was exultant. In one hand she held a long, cruel knife, in the other, a hook. Gradually, another figure began to appear, strapped down on the rack. The second figure appeared to be that of a serf-girl, judging from her clothing. Her face was contorted into an expression of mindless terror, and she struggled futilely with her bonds.
    The woman with the knife approached the bound figure on the rack and with deliberate slowness began to cut her victim’s clothing away. When the serf-girl had been stripped, the count’s sister methodically began on her flesh, muttering all the while in an alien Styric dialect. The serf-girl was screaming, and the look of cruel exultation on Lady Bellina’s face locked into a hideous grin. Sparhawk saw with revulsion that her teeth had been filed to points. He looked away, unable to watch any longer, and he saw Bevier’s face. The Arcian watched in horrified disbelief as Bellina gorged herself on the girl’s flesh.
    When it was done, blood was running from the corners of Bellina’s mouth, and her body was smeared with it.
    Then the images changed. This time Bellina’s victim was a male, and he writhed on one of the hooks protruding from the wall while Bellina slowly carved small chunks from his body and ate them with relish.
    One after another, the procession of victims continued. Bevier was sobbing now and trying to cover his eyes with his hands.
    ‘No!’ Sephrenia said sharply, pulling his hands down. ‘You must see it all.’
    On and on the horror went as victim after victim came under Bellina’s knife. The worst were all the children. Sparhawk could not bear that.
    And then, after an eternity of blood and agony, it was over. Sephrenia looked intently into Bevier’s face. ‘Do you know who I am, Sir Knight?’ she asked him.
    ‘Of course,’ he sobbed. ‘Please, Lady Sephrenia,’ he begged, ‘no more, I pray you.’
    ‘How about this man?’ She pointed at Sparhawk.
    ‘Sir Sparhawk of the Pandion Order, my brother knight.’
    ‘And him?’
    ‘Kurik, Sparhawk’s squire.’
    ‘And this gentleman?’
    ‘Count Ghasek, the owner of this unhappy house.’
    ‘And him?’ She pointed at