d it was already too late； he sprang up from the bench
C h a p t e r
E I G H T E E N
Off to Faeryl's left stood an iron maiden cast in the form of a tubby jester in cap and bells。 The bells looked real； and would evidently jingle while a victim writhed inside。 The device was open just a crack； not enough to expose the spikes inside。
Straight ahead； a chain and hook dangled from their pulley； fishing for a prisoner to hoist； and a rack waited to stretch one。 To the left； a brazier of coals threw off dazzling heat； and a collection of probes； knives； pincers； and pears hung on their pegs。 Her nemesis； the small male with all the ugly baubles； lounged in that vicinity in an iron chair with shackles attached to the armrests。
That was about as much as the envoy could see while roped naked to a molded calcite post。
She was hungry； thirsty； and sore from standing for hours in one posinottion。 Her bonds chafed her； and her head ached。 However； she had yet to endure one of the genuine agonies this stuffy cellar provided； and she thought she knew why。 Some messenger had instructed the torturers to wait for Triel to arrive before mencing the festivities。
Faeryl had already attempted to converse with the little male and her jailers and failed to elicit a response from either。 She had nothing else to do but struggle to govern her thoughts。 She didn't want to imagine all the things the Baenre might do to her； but she herself had presided over enough excruciations that it was difficult not to envision the possibilities。 She didn't want to dwell on the massacre of her followers； either； but the memories kept welling up inside her。
Surrounded and outnumbered； the daughters and sons of Ched Nasad had perished one by one。 As Faeryl watched the slaughter； her eyes ached with the tears she refused to shed。 Naturally； she didn't 〃love〃 her minions； but she was used to them； even fond of a few； and she knew that without a retinue she was nothing； just a fallen priestess in a land of enemies； bereft of goddess and home alike。
Then the small male confronted her and used his magic to confound her and knock her out。 She woke tied to the stone stake。
A door creaked； and voices murmured。 Faeryl's instincts warned her that Triel had e at last。 The ambassador closed her eyes； took a deep breath； and let it out slowly； posing herself。 She wouldn't show fear。 Dignity was all she had left…for a little while longer anyway； until her captors lashed and burned it out of her。
Sure enough； Triel and her draegloth son emerged from the doorway that apparently led to more salubrious precincts of the Great Mound。 The Baenre matron was smiling。 Fangs bared in a grin； Jeggred bounded along on his caprine legs。
The little male rose and offered obeisance。
〃Valas；〃 said Triel。 〃Well done。 Did the Zauvirr give you any trouble？〃
〃They tried to sneak away in disguise；〃 the male replied。 〃It almost fooled the lookout； but once he figured out what was what； everything went as planned。〃
The Baenre proffered a fat pouch that looked too big and heavy for her tiny hand。
〃I'll send word when I need Bregan D'aerthe again；〃 she said。
Valas took the pouch； then bowed low。 He withdrew； and Triel and her monstrous son turned toward the prisoner。
〃Good evening； Matron；〃 Faeryl said； 〃or is it morning now？〃
Fighting hands outstretched； talons at the ready； jaws agape； Jeggred lunged at the prisoner。 Despite herself； Faeryl flinched。 Both the claws and the pointed teeth stopped less than an inch from her flesh。 The draegloth loomed over her； pressing close； almost seeming to embrace her like a lover。 He ran a pointed nail across her cheek； then lifted it to his bestial muzzle。 He sucked； and a bit of warm； viscous drool； mixed； perhaps； with a trace of her blood； dripped onto her forehead。
〃Have a care；〃 the ambassador said with as much nonchalance as she could muster。 〃If your son kills me quickly； won't that spoil the fun？〃
Jeggred made a low； grinding sound。 Faeryl couldn't tell if he was growlnoting or laughing。
Triel said； 〃You underestimate him。 True； I've watched him butcher eight prisoners in as many seconds； but I've also seen him spend days picknoting one little faerie child apart a mote of flesh at a time。 It depends on his humor； and； needless to say； my instructions。〃
〃Of course；〃 Faeryl said。 The shallow gash in her cheek began to sting。 Jeggred traced the edges of her lips with his claw； not quite cutting； not yet。 〃I hope the traitor whelp appreciated the honor。〃
〃It was hard to tell；〃 she said。 〃What about you？ Will you savor it？〃
〃Alas； Exalted Mother；〃 Faeryl said； 〃your daughter c