Jim Butcher - Cursors's Fury

No response. Amara frowned. “Rook, if you cooperate with us, it’s possible that we can end this war before it destroys us all. It would save thousands of lives. Surely you can see that.”

When the spy did not reply, Amara leaned in closer, making eye contact. “If you cooperate, if your help makes the difference, the First Lord may suspend your execution. Your life may not be a pleasant one-but you will live.”

Rook drew in a shuddering breath and lifted her head enough to stare at Amara. Tears, absent until then, began to streak down her cheeks. “I can’t help you, Countess.”

“You can,” Amara said. “You must.”

Rook ground her teeth in agony. “Don’t you see? I can’t .”

“You will,” Amara said.

Rook shook her head, a slight motion of weary despair and closed her eyes.

“I’ve never tortured anyone,” Amara said quietly. “I know the theory. I’d rather resolve this peaceably. But it’s up to you. I can go away and come back with a healer. Or I can come back with a knife.”

The prisoner said nothing for a long moment. Then she inhaled, licked her lips, and said, “If you heat the knife, it’s easier to avoid mistakes. The wound sears shut. You can cause a great deal more pain with far less damage, provided I do not faint.”

Amara only stared at Rook for a long, silent moment.

“Go get your knife, Countess,” Rook whispered. “The sooner we begin, the sooner it will be over with.”

Amara bit her lip and looked at Bernard. He stared at Rook, his face troubled, and shook his head.

“Countess,” murmured Lady Aquitaine. “May I speak to you?”

Rook looked up at the sound of her voice, body tensing.

Amara frowned but nodded to Lady Aquitaine, who stood silhouetted in the doorway, and turned to step close to her.

“Thank you,” Lady Aquitaine said quietly. “Countess, you are an agent of the Crown. It is your profession, and so you are familiar with many of the same things as the prisoner. You are not, however, personally familiar with Kalarus Brencis, how he operates his holdings and uses his clients and those in his employ.”

“If there is something you think I should know, it might be more productive if you told it to me.”

Lady Aquitaine’s eyes managed to be cold and perfectly restrained at the same time. “She asked you to kill her when you saw her?”

Amara frowned. “Yes. How did you know?”

“I did not,” Lady Aquitaine replied. “But it is a position one can understand, given a few key facts.”

Amara nodded. “I’m listening.”

“First,” Lady Aquitaine said, “assume that Kalarus does not trust her any farther than he can kick her, if it comes to that.”

Amara frowned. “He has to.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s operating independently of him most of the time,” Amara said. “Her role in the capital had her away from Kalarus for months at a time. She could have betrayed him, and he would never have known about it until long after.”

“Precisely,” Lady Aquitaine said. “And what might possibly compel her to perfect loyalty despite such opportunity, hmm?”

“I-” Amara began.

“What might compel her to deny potential clemency? To urge you to finish her as quickly as possible? To ask you to kill her outright from the very beginning?”

Amara shook her head. “I don’t know. I take it you do.”

Lady Aquitaine gave Amara a chill little smile. “One more hint. Assume that she believes that she is being watched, by one measure or another. That if she turns against him, Kalarus will learn of it, and that regardless of how far away she is, he will be able to retaliate.”

Amara felt her belly twist with nauseated horror as it dawned on her what Lady Aquitaine was speaking about. “He holds a hostage against her loyalty. Someone close to her. If she turns against him, he’ll kill the hostage.”

Lady Aquitaine inclined her head. “Behold our spy. A young woman. Unwed, I am certain, and without a family able to support or protect her. The hostage must be someone she is willing to die for-willing to face torture and agony for. My guess…”

“He has her child,” Amara stated, her voice flat and cold.

Lady Aquitaine arched a brow. “You seem offended.”

“Should I not be?” Amara asked. “Should not you?”

“Your own master is little different, Amara,” Lady Aquitaine said. “Ask High Lord Atticus. Ask Isana her opinion on his decision to relocate her nephew to the Academy. And did you think he hasn’t noticed your relationship with the good Count Bernard? Should your hand turn against him, Amara, do not think for a moment he would not use whatever he could to control you. He’s simply more elegant and tasteful than to throw it in your face.”

Amara stared steadily back at Lady Aquitaine. Then she said, in a quiet voice, “You are very wrong.”

The High Lady’s mouth curled into another cool little smile. “You are very young.” She shook her head. “It is almost as though we live in two different Realms.”

“I appreciate your insight into Kalarus’s character-or rather the lack thereof. But what advantage does it give us?”

“The lever Kalarus uses,” Lady Aquitaine said, “will serve you just as ably.”

Amara’s stomach turned in disgust. “No,” she said.

Lady Aquitaine turned more fully to Amara. “Countess. Your sensibilities are useless to the rule of a realm. If that woman does not speak to you, your lord will fail to muster the support he needs to defend his capital, and whether or not he lives, his rule will be over. Thousands will die in battle. Food shipments will be delayed, destroyed. Famine. Disease. Tens of thousands will fall to them without ever being touched by a weapon.”

“I know that,” Amara spat.

“Then if you truly would prevent it, would protect this Realm you claim to serve, then you must set your squeamishness aside and make the difficult choice .” Her eyes almost glowed. “That is the price of power, Cursor.”

Amara looked away from Lady Aquitaine and stared at the prisoner.

“I’ll talk,” she said finally, very quietly. “I’ll cue you to show yourself to her.”

Lady Aquitaine tilted her head to one side and nodded comprehension. “Very well.”

Amara turned and went back over to the prisoner. “Rook,” she said quietly. “Or should I call you Gaelle?”

“As you would. Both names are stolen.”

“Rook will do, then,” Amara said.

“Did you forget your knife?” the prisoner said. There was no life to the taunt.

“No knife,” Amara said quietly. “Kalarus has abducted two women. You know who they are.”

Rook said nothing, but something in the quality of her silence made Amara think that she did.

“I want to know where they have been taken,” Amara said. “I want to know what security precautions are around them. I want to know how to free them and escape with them again.”

A short breath, the bare specter of a laugh, escaped Rook’s lips.

“Are you willing to tell me?” Amara asked.

Rook stared at her in silent scorn.

“I see,” Amara said. She beckoned with one hand. “In that case, I’m going to leave.”

Lady Aquitaine-and not Lady Aquitaine-stepped into the light of the circle of fire. Her form had changed, growing shorter, stockier, so that the dress she wore fit her badly. Her features had changed, skin and face and hair, to the perfect mirror of Rook’s own face and body alike.

Rook’s head snapped up. Her tortured face twisted into an expression of horror.

“I’ll go for a walk outside,” Amara continued in a quiet, remorseless voice. “Out in public. With her. Where everyone in the city might see. Where anyone Kalarus has watching will see us together.”