Page 3 of The Empty Throne

Smiling in that way of his, cold as steel inwinter, Bittersea walked up to him like a man idly browsing waresin the marketplace. He mockingly slapped Cohea's right cheek, thenpinched his chin between thumb and finger, grip so tight therewould be bruises.

Pain, sharp and white-hot, ripped throughCohea, buckling his knees, toppling him to the ground—and danglingawkwardly as Bittersea's grip remained true. "Fuck you," hehissed.

Bittersea laughed and crudely let him go,laughing again as he toppled completely. "You smell."

"Seriously, all of you can go fuckyourselves," Cohea retorted. "If you don't want me to smell, let mehave a gods-damned bath."

Kneeling, Bittersea grabbed him by the hairand yanked his head back until his neck was craning almostpainfully. "Any hints you'd like to give me about yourbeloved?"

"They'll get all of you long before you getthem."

Bittersea laughed and let him go. He took adark blue handkerchief from the pocket of his jacket, a Boltanestyle piece with a short, stiff collar and elaborate embroideryacross midnight blue fabric. Cleaning his hands, he dropped thekerchief on the floor before turning to Fazekas. "Half now."

"A third now, and if you don't find them,that's all you get."

Bittersea scoffed. "Have it delivered to myroom. I leave at first light." He walked off with all theimperiousness of the laird he was working for, except far morenaturally and gracefully, and it wasn't hard to see, even with oneeye swollen shut and the other caked with blood, that everyone inthe room noticed it—including Fazekas, who's eyes burned withresentment.

Well, when Bittersea wasn't killing people,he was pissing them off. The bastard had a very specific set oftalents.

"Get him cleaned up," Fazekas said, motioningat Cohea like he was some sort of dying street dog that needed putout of its misery. "Move him to one of the special prisoner cells.Keep him fed and clean and whatnot. He won't be much use to us ifhe dies before we find his darling."

Cohea laughed, going easily as the guardshauled him up and dragged him off. "You have no idea who you'remessing with, Fazekas. I hope I get to see your face when this isall over."

Fazekas didn't bother to reply, or even turnaround, but the tense set of his shoulders was answer enough.

The guards dragged him back the way they'dcome, turning at the last to head out a set of double doors thatled to a neglected, overgrown yard that was more weeds than stone.Off to one side was a water pump. They removed his manacles, butonly to switch them to one hand and one foot. It was more thanenough advantage to take the guards out and break himself free, buthe couldn't escape the whole castle. Not right now. Soon, though.He just needed to bide his time for a little longer.

For the present, he accepted the bucket, rag,and soap they gave him, and submitted gladly to the water pump,even as freezing as the water was. He scrubbed and cleaned and evengot them to shave his head, so he wouldn't have to worry aboutvermin. By the time he was done, he was numb and practically blue,but he wasclean.That was always a good first step.

Once they'd returned his manacles to bothwrists, they hauled him back inside. Instead of going downstairsinto the cold and damp, they hauled him up a set of tightlyspiraling stairs, past one landing and stopping at the second. Twodoors were here, set with bars and locks, iron bars in the smallwindow. There was also a shelf with a sliding door where food wouldbe delivered.

Inside was a simple cot, a piss bucket, abarred window much like the one in the door, still too small forhim to get through, and a small, threadbare rug that would be of noactual help in protecting against the chilly stone floor. Therewasn't even a tapestry to help with the draft.

At least there were clothes already on thebed, and boots that were only slightly too big. They were all instiff Terek style, the colors drab, the ornamentation minimal—butTerek wool was nothing to sneer at, even when it was boring.Anything was better than being naked and cold. The guards removedhis manacles, swords drawn, door closed, as they watched himdress.

"If you stare any harder, I'm going to chargeyou for the pleasure," Cohea said as he pulled the overtunic on andbelted it with a faded green sash they'd given him in place of aproper belt. Like that would really stop him if he was determined.Dressed, he finally sat down on the bed, nearly sighing at therelief of having something that wasn't hard, cold stone.

"Behave yourself or we'll have you right backin chains," one of the guards said, trying and failing miserably tosound threatening. Hard to manage after witnessing the effortlessdisplays in the great hall. These guards had nothing on Fazekas andBittersea.

Cohea held his hands up in a show ofacquiescence anyway. "All I want is food, and maybe anotherblanket, if that's not too impertinent of me."

The guards rolled their eyes and departed,but when the food showed many long minutes later, a blanket wasshoved through the opening after it, so hastily that Cohea barelykept the food from being knocked off the shelf.

Taking the extra blanket, he shoved it intothe space between the stones over the window, until he'd jammed itwell enough that it stayed, blocking most of the chilly draft.Hopefully it wouldn't get much colder, or they'd bring something toheat the place, because otherwise he'd be a popsicle before he gothimself free.

Sighing, Cohea walked stiffly back to the bedand settled the tray of food in his lap. Not much, but it wasleagues better than the bread and water they'd been giving him.Tea, barely warm. Stew, slightly warmer. Bread that was relativelyfresh, spread with soft, salty cheese. All in all, a veritablefeast.

When he'd finished, full for the first timein days, he returned the tray to the shelf before sprawling on thebed and pulling up the tattered quilt that was all the warmth hewas going to have for a long time.

He was alive though, and those stupidbastards were never going to find his Bonded. His moon shadow.Turning on his side, the least painful of his options, Cohea closedhis eyes and tried to get to sleep, slipping into dreams of all thedelightful things he'd do when this whole ordeal was finallyover.

Two

"He should have been back by now."

Kite looked up from the papers he wasreviewing, a very rough draft of a trade contract with Delargo.He'd already made so many changes and left so many notes that thepoor clerks would practically have to start from the beginning. Hewasn't bending on the terms, though. If Delargo didn't like it,that was their problem. They needed Cremisio far more than Cremisioneeded them. "Should have yes, but nobody has ever accused Cohea ofbeing punctual."

Sobeki didn't look soothed by the words, onlymore troubled. "His Majesty never should have sent him out. Therewere plenty of others who could have handled the matter."

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