"Why can't we stay outside the gates like before?" Tate asked, for what felt like the hundredth time.
"Because there are bandits outside the gates and they'll attack us. Now stop worrying Shantran, there's room enough for the entire tribe inside, especially during a festival."
Tate didn't say anything else but Lukas knew how tormented the younger man felt. It was casual but there if you knew where to look. The slight line between his brows, the stiffness in his limbs and the slight drop in his shoulders. "Come now my friend, it isn't as bad as all that is it? You enjoyed the last town enough."
"A desert in comparison you said." Tate said miserably. "You were not exaggerating Lukas." He raised his hands before Lukas could open his mouth. "I know, I know, I shall have to get used to it. Fine, but let me mope in peace won't you?"
Lukas stared at him for a moment and then fell down in a mock swoon. "It cannot be, has the infamous northerner actually made a jest?"
Tate kicked him in the side, gently enough thankfully. "I am in possession of a sense of humor Lukas."
"Then where have you been hiding it Tate?" Lukas said, mocking his friends tone. He loved using Tate's name. Loved the fact that he had been entrusted with it.
Tate's eyes flashed. His Shantran was not used to hearing his name said aloud and it ruffled his feathers whenever Lukas spoke it. Not that the older man ever said anything unless he was certain the two of them were alone and couldn't be overheard. Tate was about to respond when something thudded into the side of their caravan. A moment later a bearded face peered inside the tiny room. The muddy brown eyes passed briefly over Lukas and locked onto Tate. He barked something in a language Lukas had never heard before and lunged at the half-blood.
Tate, his expression perfectly smooth and calm, stepped back slightly and kicked their attacker in the face. The southerner let out a barked scream of pain and threw himself back out of the wagon. "What was that about?" Lukas asked him incredulously.
"I don't know." Tate said, looking annoyed but not particularly concerned that he had just kicked someone in the face. "I couldn't understand him."
They heard a scream. It was one of Lukas's sisters, though he couldn't have said which one. Lukas threw himself outside and was immediately tackled to the floor. A boot ground into his back. Keeping him pinned as a hand wound into his hair. He felt cold steel against his neck and rancid breath against his cheek and wondered if it was going to hurt when he died.
"Get off him!" A voice yelled from above. The southerner screamed and released Lukas. He looked up; expecting to see Tate but it was Robert that offered him his hand.
"Where is Tate?" He asked instinctively, the words tumbling from his mouth.
He saw the confusion on Robert's face and then the sudden understanding. "Your Shantran was carried off back there. I came to help you." He gestured to the advancing city guards that had chased off the raiders. "Everyone else is fine."
Lukas only then noticed the dead man lying beside him. He looked questioningly at Robert. "He was going to kill you!" he said defensively.
They heard a screamed curse and then Lukas was running.
***********************
The entire room stunk of death, and madness. He raised his lantern higher, silently commanding his soldiers back with a hard stare. They shut the door behind him, confident that the monster locked in the tower room couldn't hurt him.
If Miliananious had looked sick before it was nothing compared to what he looked like now? He was a walking skellington, skin and bone and little else. Christian clucked his tongue despairingly. The stupid creature really had brought it down on himself. "Are you dead yet Miliananious?" he asked brightly.
Those white milky eyes looked up at him. He was sick but he wasn't mad, at least not yet. He didn't say anything, just watched Christian without being able to see him.
Christian whistled a merry tune as he stepped into the room. He spun a key in his hand, the key to Miliananious chains. The creature could barely move, had not been able to stand up straight for longer than a few moments a day. And the only reason Christian even permitted that was because the last thing he wanted was to have to smell the creature's droppings."Do you want me to let you lose, creature?" he asked sweetly. The seer flinched, very slightly but it was enough. "Wait, no clever tongue, no promises of death, no insults?" he let out a cruel laugh, one that was meant to make the proud creatures blood boil. "Have I broken you at last Miliananious?"
A sigh, tired and small. "What do you want Christian?"
"You know what I want, what I require."
"I already told you, he travels south with a group of gypsy's-"
"Yes, yes I know that." He interrupted irritably. "That's not what I asked, I asked you, where is he?"
A long pause. "You want specifics my lord?"
"Do you want to be able to move again, to eat, to stare blindly out of your stupid little window? Yes you foolish beast, I want specifics, tell me exactly where he is!"
A longer pause and when he next spoke he sounds almost afraid. "I cannot see so far my lord; the divination doesn't work as accurately as that. I know he is south, I know he is in one of the larger city estates, high brick walls and crowded with people, but I do not know its name and I cannot see its colours. I think though that he is still in the province."
Christian rushed towards him. Miliananious did not flinch away from him as he hoped he might but he was clearly apprehensive. Christian grinned, his face very close to those blind, unseeing eyes as he unlocked the chains around the prophet's neck, and those twined around his chest, stomach and shoulders. The manacles on his wrists and ankles stayed put. He would not allow the beast a completely free rein. He lent out and caressed his finger over the prophet's hollow cheek. "See how I reward good behaviour, beautiful one?" He asked in a deep throaty voice he usually reserved for his more coy conquests. Miliananious did shudder then, but it was only a slight thing. He sat very still, tense as if he expected a blow. "You may have your window back Miliananious." He said, feeling generous. "And I'll tell the kitchen staff to start feeding you again."
