Ona sat.
Not because he ordered but because she felt as the world started to gain dim colors. Colors of mud, old leaves and… prison stones.
This couldn’t be. How this boy managed to rule so long, instill so much fear and create a whole organization based on it? The old, blankly-eyed inquisitor was… believable. This… was madness.
And her sister resided in the heart of it, trapped in a twisted nightmare.
Sindr took a breath, an effortful one. His forehead was sweating, just like his hands. Whatever was eating him, was serious.
“First of all…” he spoke, eventually, his voice coarse and sharp, for a twelve year old. “I know you are not a scholar” a silent muffled giggle left his mouth.
Ona just sit there, no reaction. She waited for his next words, but they didn’t come. He was sitting too, looking at her with an ill gleam in his eyes.
“Who am I, then?” her tone was calm and collected, no fear clenching her throat. No trembling.
“I do not know. You are a peculiar enigma. They want you to perish, disappear though, therefore I am eager to use you. I will give you everything I have, literally. I can give you safety and food. No more, as I do not possess more” again a giggle. He wiped his brow from gathering sweat, heavy drops adorning his temples; and continued. “I am… sick. But… that you possibly discovered yourself.”
“Yes. What—”
“It’s not of your concern” he cut her, a dangerous note to his voice, bordering on a threat. “I am sick. I am very sick. My mind… is a hot furnace, begging for lack of fire. And you… YOU, my good girl, are the enemy of the flame. Of the fever. Of the fucking iron melting slowly in my head.”
Ona was aware of that from the beginning. That boy was fully mad. And his mere word was enough to impale her… or something much more deranged. But he also seemed to think she came to Arelt to become his savior, as delusional as it sounded. Only a mad person would rely so much on a newly acknowledged newcomer. Especially if they had many enemies, and Ona was sure that Praetor had a lot of them, considering the ways he ruled with.
“I told that man already” she controlled her voice almost perfectly. “I will serve you, to—-”
“Yes, yes, yes… you are a survivor” he chuckled darkly. “Entering my city, lying, to only stand before me. It’s not a secret I am not as well guarded as one could think. As I should, I could say. But those fools think I am a holy man and my holy power can destroy all enemies, maybe put empires to their knees, even. But… the thing is that I can’t die. And I would love to. Very much.”
A silence reigned after this confession. Ona tried to quickly find an answer, anything. But something blocked in her, her so far impeccable disguise of a self-confident witch hunter falling apart, in the face of…
… she felt something in him. Not madness only. Not a fever. But… a darkness, hot, seething and cruel. Her gifts were scarce, almost not existent, but this; it was too strong to not be felt by someone coming from a witches line.
And she felt too, that the boy… whoever and how old he truly was… is scared of it too.
“Your lack of words is speaking by itself” Sindr grinned, manically and shook his head, with a bird-like move. Like something latched to his skin and he wanted to shake it off. “You do not need to believe in my will to die. Help me… and I will give you Arelt. Oh, I will give you this rotting town with a smile on my face!”
Ona didn’t want the city, but she nodded, trying to again look as someone one can rely on. Even if now, it was harder. Maybe impossible.
“You told Aloralt that you knew people from Feirne… and that is all, truly all I need to know… good! If you want to live as badly as you claim… but first, you will bathe in my hospitality… and then… I will show you your first task.”
“I will be honored to use your generosity” Ona grinned at him, with her best predatory grin. Sindr Alusa again reached to hold her hand, and she allowed.
“You can use it, as long as you are useful” he suddenly pulled hard and Ona realized she was now bending forth, nose to nose with the young Praetor. “But remember, that if you won’t be useful… I have the means for you to become so.”
A sharp, guttural laughter shook his small figure. The Praetor was surprisingly strong, for a child and managed to lock her in a grasp that she wouldn’t even try to break. His eyes beamed with something, Ona was not sure should reside in any human being.
“Be my guest, girl” when the laugh attack passed, he released her. Ona slowly straightened, feeling even harder, that she stepped into something much more sickening than she expected, back then, in the wilderness, with only snow and wind as her companions. “Aloralt surely tries to listen through the door, which wouldn’t surprise me. His task is knowing everything around me… and protecting me from any danger. Call him. Yes, now. Call him so I can give him even more tasks. First will be delivering the meal for you.”
Ona was sure that whoever really Aloralt was in this city… he wouldn’t be enthusiastic.
*
The dry meat she got was old and cooked from an already rotting animal – so the taste was not good. But she ate it, knowing that hunting was not an option now and she needed strength, facing this mad place. She still chewed it, when Aloralt came for her, his expression showing no emotions. He brought her a cup filled with water, and while she was drinking, he observed her, his eyes dark and judging.
“I do not know what you told him” his voice reached her, cold and unapologetic. He leaned on the door frame in a stiff pose. His Lord’s grace for her had to move his facade more than he would admit. “But you dance on a very thin line, scholar.”
Ona put the cup on the table and took another meat bite. She will not go to please this crazy child whim’s without filling up her stomach.
“I didn’t have to tell him anything,” she said with full mouth. “He guessed it all.”
“Of course he did,” Aloralt chuckled coldly. “And you seemed shocked by his state. Let me tell you, that even if sick, his mind stays brilliant and sharp as a knife.”
Definitely.
Sharp.
And brilliant.
“I do not want to delve into his mind” Ona swallowed the morsel. “I have my own and I cherish it too much.”
“If you try to use his good will, I will know.”
Ona laughed.
“You seem to treat your Lord of Light as a toddler, who can’t decide on himself” when she said that, she immediately noticed him to lose his calm. Lose coldness. His expression, for a moment, a small glimpse, showed anger, which had to reside in him all the time. He really treated his Praetor like a child – who he in fact was. He perceived himself a father to his Lord. And that was dangerous. To what extent would he go, to protect him?
But he held his emotions of a tight leash. Ona realized that if Praetor is the heart… he is the mind, which Sindr Alusa slowly was losing.
“You ate?” Aloralt’s voice showed no agitation he felt seconds ago.
“Yes. Thank you for this filling meal.”
“Come with me then.”
Ona took one last sip of water from the cup. And followed him, to whatever “task” Sindr Alusa had for her.
“I partially expect you to fail. That wouldn’t be that surprising. But if he saw something in you… he rarely mistakes. But his choices can be—”
“Strange?” she suggested and Aloralt smiled. With a kind, amused grin. Similar to what he offered her, when they looked at the dying down stashes on the square.
“You never saw a strange thing, girl. Not in this life.”
He led her and she swiftly joined his steps.
She hoped that whatever it will be, it will get her closer to Isnan. The time was not her friend and was running out.
She hoped she still had it, even in small amounts. And that – the most dreadful thought, which was casting a shadow over all she was doing – she wasn’t too late.