Skandra Tyullis (roll_the_bones) wrote in adusta, @ 2010-03-31 17:42:00 |
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Entry tags: | ithacles, skandra tyullis, vedette uthral |
what we destroy (ithacles, vedette)
A man's vicious groan cut the darkness around them. Skandra took that opportunity to strike a match - but it wasn't enough light, to frighten their colleague or pretend they were intimidating. So his fingers snapped, a loud crack rang out, and the match flew into the glass cage of a lantern. Despite the sudden rip of wind it managed to light the oil, and Skandra got a closer look at his target's face. The man was middle aged, not possessed of a razor by all appearances, and he had a wicked cut on his chin. For a moment Skandra thought he enjoyed getting into tussles - but then he remembered, oh yes, poor fellow had a bottle smashed on his face. That was likely to hurt his standing with the ladies. Not that this fellow was one to care about what women wanted. The king's brand on his neck said everything that had to be said. And then some. So there really was a plot - and more than that, it involved some of the king's own men.
Maybe this fellow knew a little something about it.
Red Coat and his comrades had been working for the man with the brand, of course - nothing else made sense. But if they were in on the plot they were low level thugs. Hardly worth anyone's time. Skandra should've felt a little more guilty than he did for setting the man on fire, but the next thing the thug was going to do was pull a knife on Ithacles. It didn't matter how many times you did or did not win a barfight - they always played out the same. The other fellow wanted to win more than he wanted to observe the unwritten rules. Ithacles didn't do much of that. Barfighting. He was always one for observing the rules - which was part of the reason Skandra was so worried. He didn't think Lethe had been joking when she'd threatened them with the stocks. All of them. Ithacles would do his turn if he was caught, but he didn't seem to care if anyone's good opinion of him was affected.
Ordinarily it was Skandra who was coaxing him into nonsense like this.
"Say," the man who was tied to his chair rasped.
"Mmm?" Skandra tilted his head to one side, where the brim cast shadows on his eyes. "You have a question?"
"Am I under arrest?"
"Do soldiers break bottles on your face when they arrest you?" Skandra asked reasonably.
"Ha. I guess not. So who are you?"
Vedette and Ithacles were upstairs, working out a price with the owner of the home. Skandra didn't think he had time to torture the fellow, any more than he had time to explain the severity of the man's situation. But he was looking around now, this square-jawed fellow, and he could see the writing on the wall. Canvas laid out beneath him. A sword within easy reach of Skandra's hand. This was not where one found oneself when one was going to be imprisoned by the proper authorities and then interrogated with due diligence. Skandra could remember a time, early in his life, when it was nothing for a soldier to beat a confession out of a murderer. Most of the time, that was the only way you got one. If you wanted it to be honest you tried not to ask too many questions, but in the end you did whatever you had to do to get a guilty fellow to admit that he was worthy of punishment.
"Who are you?" Skandra asked instead of answering.
"Is this about my gambling debt?"
"In a moment you'll see someone you might recognize," Skandra said dangerously. "Try that on him and he might unhinge your jaw."
"So it is about my gambling debt."
The game was all about breaking resolve. He was trying to catch an amateur, not realizing that none of them had anything other than this. If they let him go, if they just apologized and took off the shackles that held his hands in place, they were admitting defeat. Skandra doubted Vedette or Ithacles would go so far as to kill the man and hide the body if they thought they'd truly made a mistake, but their faces were known. If this was... and damn, it was working on him. For a moment Skandra'd been asking himself what he would do if this fellow truly was an innocent caught up in a nightmare. Didn't matter. This man was not innocent. And he was going to admit it. Then he was probably going to die a traitor's death.
"Just wait," was all Skandra said.