He tossed the paper at Eithne, striking her in the neck with it, and then turned on his heel. Eragos watched him go for a long moment - his fingers flexing slowly, wondering if the man was going to turn around and strike while their guards were done. Bahn snatched up the note with nimble fingers, ducking in front of Eithne with a half-smile, half-grimace of apology. The man with Thiele - what was the fellow's name? - seemed unperturbed, but something about him would not let Eragos make himself easy. He seemed the sort of man who ... Bahn's face darkened when he unfolded the note. Eragos did seize his sword then, though that wide sheet of leather was still rolled around it to keep the edges dull. The air in the room seemed to grow heavier, the light more scarce, but he must have been imagining it.
"What does it say?" Eragos demanded.
"It says, 'You are next'," Bahn quoted it in a dry and flat voice before offering it to Thiele. "Some sort of joke, my lady? I cannot imagine the judge would-"
A shriek from one of the questioner's rooms cut him off. Eragos bounded across the room in the time it took Tirad to pull his sword - throwing a shoulder into one of the doors sprang it wide, with a creak and a crack so vicious. The door rebounded against the wall, and nearly struck Eragos in the face before he caught it. There were three men and one woman in this room. The judge and his staff were all standing around a small wooden table, locked away inside a stone cell with only one torch to light their way. Each of those who were standing was staggering back, trying to howl but emitting only rattles and small groans from their throats. They were clutching their hearts in their hands - blood flowing over the sides of their hands, dripping between their fingers, and they stared at him with wide eyes before they collapsed.
In unison.
Behind him, Eragos could hear Bahn throwing up. Blood streaked the floor as the men and the woman let go of those violent hearts, their hands slapping stone wildly, as though that action would somehow save them. Eragos could only stare at the red streaks that grew on the dry gray stone like flowers. It should have been more difficult to watch, but his mind could not credit the madness that was unfolding before him. No marks. No one had done this to them. They would have died from the shock of it. Why weren't they dead from the shock of it? All that blood... it was leaking from one man's nose now, as though it had nowhere else to go. Eragos felt that he might sick up, himself.
"What's going on?" Tirad shouted roughly.
"Help me," one of them - Eragos thought it was the judge - rasped in an awful voice.
Frozen Pond was the only one who was not screaming. He sat at that wooden table, with its rickety legs and its unvarnished surface, and he stared at the heart resting on the table before him with narrowed eyes. Almost as though the experience of seeing his life still twitching furiously on the table before him was worth his death. Like the others, there was no mark on his body. No slash, no vicious cut. He was unmarked. It was not possible. Frozen Pond's eyes lifted to match Eragos' - and he smiled as his eyes closed. No doubt, he did not think he would ever see Eragos again. He would. Just a question of how soon. How could none of them -
"Guard the Lady Thiele!" Eragos snapped. "Cols, the other room!"
Someone's heels were still drumming hideously on the stone behind him, but Eragos slammed the door shut with a jerk of his arm.