"These ridiculous tribes you humans have separated yourselves into," Sentar muttered. "I know your land. There is one from Altura, a leader, who I tried to kill along with some of the other leaders. Dogs without a pack leader are just so many curs, you see. What was his name? Milo? No, that wasn't it. Miro. Yes, Miro. I'm sure you know his name."
Miro felt his pulse race. He knew he couldn't hold out for long, not with Sentar's ability to harm Amber. He thought about the things he knew. About the machines being rebuilt at Mornhaven, and the numbers of fighting men each house possessed. He knew Sarostar's weaknesses, and which was the most poorly defended port, Castlemere or Schalberg.
Miro realised Sentar Scythran was going to make him choose between the defence of his homeland and the woman he loved. If he told Sentar the things he knew, he would be placing countless soldiers and civilians in harm's way, and dooming the people of Merralya to enslavement and death. If he didn't, he had no doubt this monster would do to Amber every last thing he had said and more.
"Tell me, Alturan. What are you doing here?" Sentar asked.
"There was an explosion at the Lord Marshal's wedding in Altura's capital, Sarostar," Miro said, treading close to the truth. "I was there as a guest, and some kind of poison infected my son. Looking for a cure, I tracked the origin of the poison to the Alchemists' Guild in Wengwai."
Sentar's face again appeared in Miro's vision. "Better. Where is your ship?"
"The Emir's men captured our ship in the waters near Emirald, the Veldrin capital."
"The Veldrins have many ships, don't they? I plan to take my great army south, where the Emir's ships will enable me to take my minions across the ocean — to your land, young Alturan, and beyond. Tell me, where did you come by the enhanced sword?"
"I made it in the hours before I attacked. I stole the essence from one of the vats. My sister is an enchantress."
"Sloppy work. You're fortunate you didn't kill yourself, although in your case perhaps I should say unfortunate, for your current position isn't enviable. I saw the way you moved, however. Are you what they call a bladesinger?"
Miro hesitated. "No."
Miro sensed movement and tensed, his body turning rigid, fear coursing through his blood as he felt his shirt ripped open. Suddenly something burning, like coals from a fire, was pressed against the skin of his chest. He screamed and convulsed, smelling blistering skin and hearing sizzling. The thing pressed to the bare skin of his abdomen was then removed, but the pain continued, working through his body in waves.
"That was just my hand," Sentar said. "Not much artistry there. It's time to fetch your woman. I'll start by removing the skin of her face. You'll be surprised, but that's not the most painful place. Soon you will be begging me for her death."
"Yes!" Miro cried. "I'm a bladesinger!"
Sentar Scythran laughed, a sound of superiority and triumph. It was all the more chilling against the backdrop of screams and anguished cries.
"You are Miro, aren't you?" He laughed again. "Miro Torresante: one of the few men holding the Empire together. Your name is on every man and woman's lips. If I had killed you with my device, ah, what a triumph! But now you've come to me of your own accord, and all for the life of your son. You could have sent another but you've come yourself, and now you're in my power."
"You'll never win," Miro said. "We're stronger than you, and we always will be."
"Humans? Strong? You're always bickering, and warring amongst yourselves. You need rulers like us, to keep you from tearing each other's throats out, to keep you in line. This time, though. This time I don't want to rule you, and nor will my brothers. This time, Lord Marshal Miro, we will scour you from the world, until you are not even a memory."
"We're better than you," Miro whispered. "We always will be."
Sentar Scythran moved to depart. "I'm going now, but I will be back shortly. I'm going to get your woman and tie her to a pole outside this tent, just as I promised. I won't even ask you a question before I start, I'll simply set to work. Get some rest, Miro of Altura. Open your ears. Prepare to hear her cries."
"No!" Miro shouted. The muscles in his arms bulged as he strained against his bonds, and his whole body quivered with effort. The ties held strong, and he slumped back with exhaustion.
He tried again as he heard Sentar Scythran leave the tent.
And again.
Some time later, the Lord of the Night returned.
40
SENTAR Scythran stormed into the tent, staring down at Miro with his ice-like eyes blazing. Something had happened to shatter his previous composure.