Anton Anderson - The Seekers - Soul Ties

«So, shall we take the gags off from all of you, or just one of you?» Greta asked. «Who’s your leader?»

She looked closely at their faces, looking for any useful signs, but there were none. The prisoners just carefully watched her every move but didn’t make a sound.

«We can always put the gags back,» Sabiri suggested.

The scouts stood behind the prisoners and grabbed them by their horns, keeping them from moving their heads and biting. Sabiri and Greta carefully removed the gags, but the prisoners remained mute.

«Don’t want to talk?» Greta raised her eyebrows. «Look. Let’s start with your tribe. Where are you from? It’s simple. Tell the right thing, we’ll verify your words, then we’ll let you go. We’ll even give you something for the trouble we caused.»

Silence. The prisoners didn’t move a muscle, didn’t make a sound.

Greta shook her head. «Come on! Are you afraid of giving us the wrong answer?» She looked at each of them in turn. «If you won’t give us anything, we’ll have to kill you anyway just to be safe. Am I asking for something secret? Something that might endanger your home? You think we would capture some random people just to attack the village they happened to live in?»

Silence.

«Shall we tell them?» Greta asked.

«We should – I’m curious,» Shai answered.

Sabiri agreed, «That could help our case.»

Greta looked back at the prisoners. «Alright. What were you doing near Drowners’ territory? They scared away everyone who knew even a little about their recent actions. Were you just passing by? Were you totally ignorant about your whereabouts? Why didn’t you take any of the roads? Why just the three of you? Why were you almost empty-handed?»

Those words still didn’t change anything. The prisoners’ blank expressions were taunting, if not mocking.

«We don’t have the time for this!» Greta rushed forward, dangling her claws just a millimeter from one of the prisoners’ eyes. «Maybe you’re not the enemy, but I really want to know what you were doing back there!» she roared. «Tell us, and we’ll let you go. Keep silent, and we’ll make you talk!»

She hovered the tip of her sharp claw in front of each eyeball, making sure the prisoners understood what was going to happen. But she got nothing. None tried to free their heads from the scouts’ grip. None attempted to even look away. Sabiri was almost sure that at this point the prisoners were daring Greta to do it. She saw this before, all those years back. Some of their prisoners not only refused to be defeated but craved to get victories wherever they could. They kept silent no matter what, even if there was nothing to hide. They resisted being moved into another cell, even if there was no way of escaping. They jumped on the blades they were being threatened with. They rejected food and water.

Seeing that threats alone weren’t going to work, Greta picked a target at random and pressed a claw into her cheek. Slowly dragging across the victim’s skin, her sharp talon left a long, red trail on its path. Her victim flinched, but the scouts held her tight, so nothing prevented Greta from making another cut. Bright-red blood ran down the victim’s neck, dripping beneath her armor. Still, there was no fear in those eyes. Pure hatred and rage, that was all Greta could see, making her face twist in a grimace of joy.

«I think there’s no sense in keeping quiet,» a voice on the left finally said, ruining Greta’s fun.

The other prisoners tried to jerk their heads towards the sound, but the scouts didn’t let them move their heads. Yet it looked like the same thought had already occurred in the rest of the prisoners’ minds. They were quiet for a while, probably unsure who should be talking. Greta stepped back, waiting for them to finish thinking.

The one on the right finally spoke. «We’re from the Rortring tribe. I’m Mas, next to me’s Abasi, and that’s Rohu. We were going to the Big Market to buy a few books.»

«Why weren’t you using a road?» Greta asked.

«We would love to, but without a properly protected caravan it’s too dangerous.»

«Why didn’t you have such a caravan?» Sabiri asked. «Silence!» she snapped when Rohu opened her mouth. «She talks, you don’t come to her rescue!»

Rohu gave her another glance full of hate but kept quiet.

Mas continued, «We can’t spare mounts or people for such matter. Books would help our tribe, but that’ll be in the future. Now we barely have enough not to starve.»

«So,» Shai started, «your chief thought so highly of your skills, that she sent you through a forest full of predators, swarmers, and other igni?»

Mas shook her head. «We really needed those books. She said that knowledge would help our tribe to survive, maybe even grow.»

«What books?» Greta asked.

«How to raise crops properly. How to lure prey. How to fight better – »

«You were fighting alright,» Sabiri interrupted her.

«With weapons, I meant.» Mas stared at the floor, her face already red. «With fists we just trust our instincts, but to use weapons properly we need knowledge.»

«What books specifically?» Greta asked.

«How should we know? Any books good enough would suffice.»

«Yet you were sure you could find what you needed there?» Sabiri interrupted her.

«Well, it’s the Big Market…»

«How did you know you had enough money?» Shai interrupted her again.

«We didn’t. Our Keeper of stories – »

«When were you supposed to come back?» Greta interjected.

«In a few weeks – » Mas didn’t know who to look at.

«How did you know you’d need that much time?» Sabiri didn’t let her finish.

«We’re used to traveling through the forest. We figured – »

«Where were you going to stay at the Market?» Shai cut off her explanation.

«In the „Safe travel,“ it’s a…»

By the time they’d run out of questions, Mas’s face was even redder, sweat was running down her forehead, her wide, frightened eyes searching the floor. But she passed the test: all her answers made sense, she wasn’t taking too long to answer, and the answers to the same questions varied slightly. All seemed legitimate.

«What are you thinking?» Greta asked Sabiri and Shai.

«I think she’s telling the truth,» Sabiri said. «I’ve heard about people traveling through forests in small groups. I don’t think she was making up those answers.»

«I agree.» Shai nodded. «We shall investigate their supposed tribe just to be certain, but she did sound convincing,»

«Alright.» Greta turned towards the prisoners. «We’re leaving now. The guards will untie you, but you’ll still be locked up here for a while. We’ll treat you as our „locked-up guests,“ with a hot bath, good food, and everything. Feel free to ask the guards for something extra, something normal prisoners don’t get. Any questions?»

Once again, the prisoners struggled to decide who should talk, but they didn’t waste too much time.

«For how long?» Abasi asked.

«No less than a week. Depends on how fast we check your words,» Greta answered.

«A week!» Rohu yelled. «We can’t waste another week! Our tribe needs us and those books!»

Greta put her hand on the hilt of her sword, and Rohu stopped yelling at once.

«You’re apparently one of the smaller and poorer tribes, judging by what you supposedly don’t know. But we’re more resourceful. If your words check out, we’ll give you those books as an apology. For now, try not to make too much noise.»

They left the prisoners in the cell and crossed the room to examine the prisoners’ belongings. They had short swords, as simple as you could get away with, just oversized knives without pommels or cross-guards. But they were sharp and pointed, although a bit off centered. Their bags were indeed half-empty, and there were indeed coins in them. Sabiri examined them closer: some small coins, some triangles, some squares – there was even oval-shaped money in there. Just one coin was gold, and all the rest were silver. A few looked like they were made in the same tribe; everything else was a weird mix of art styles, sizes, and quality. That could either mean bandits robbing people passing by, or a tribe that didn’t bother unifying the coins they received.