A flaring of torchlight within the darkness accompanied a slow tromping of footfalls.
When the creature appeared, Arling very nearly bolted. It was vaguely human, but mostly something less—a huge semi-human with blunted features and listless movements. It climbed into view with slow, measured steps, as if repeating from clouded memory a process it had gone through many times but did not entirely understand. It did not glance up at them or seem to look anywhere at all. It carried its torch held out before it, but stared straight ahead as if light were unnecessary. There was an emptiness to its gaze that was frightening.
Edinja said something to the creature in a language that Arling had never heard. Then, after passing the torch to the sorceress, it abruptly picked up Arling without even looking at her. Cradling her in its huge arms, it began to descend the stairs once more. Arling, too frightened to struggle, let herself be borne into the depths of the building.
Edinja walked in front of them, holding up the torch so that the gloom was at least partially dispelled. “Stay calm,” she said to the girl. “He won’t hurt you.”
Arling didn’t believe this for a moment, but she was still too weak to do anything to help herself, and certainly nothing that would allow her to escape. So she steeled herself and kept her eyes averted from her bearer’s blank expression and empty eyes.
The descent seemed to take forever, each step measured by another footfall. At the bottom of the stairs they passed down a corridor that ended at a huge iron door. Arling could hear sounds from behind the door—grunts and squeals and guttural mutterings that suggested things more animal than human.
Edinja touched a series of studs on the door, and it swung open with a ponderous groan.
Arling gave a small gasp.
The room was cavernous and gloom-filled, but there was no mistaking its purpose. Chains hung from racks, and cages lined the walls. Metal tables were scattered across the room, many with sharp blades and tools of extraction resting on their bloodied surfaces. Fluids ran down funnels into drains and buckets. More creatures resembling the one that bore her were shambling about the room, moving slow-footed and witless. In the back of the room, men in cages screamed and begged, gripping the bars or sagging in postures of hopeless dejection.
Edinja directed the creature carrying Arling to the back of the room where the cages holding the screaming, moaning men were bolted to the floor. They saw her approach and began calling out to her: Lady, Mistress, please help me! Release me and I will never return. Please, I beg you, let me go. What wrong have I committed? Why am I here?
They seemed to be addressing Arling, their attentions turned to her rather than to Edinja, their hands reaching through the bars as if to grasp at the chance they thought she offered.
“Here are the members of the ship’s crew, the ones who brought you to me, eager to be of service.” Edinja motioned for the creature to put Arling down. “Ask them what you wish. If they have an answer, they will be most willing to give it to you.”
Arling was so horror-stricken she could barely get the words out. “Why are they here? What have they done?”
“They disobeyed me. This is what happens to those who don’t do as I ask.” Edinja seemed impatient. “Now, don’t waste my time. I brought you here so you could find out something about your sister. This is your chance. Ask your questions.”
Arling turned to the men. “Do any of you know what happened to my sister? Or to the other Elves?”
The muttering was pronounced. Nothing, Lady. They are fine and well! No, they weren’t even there! We never saw them! They must be safe by now! They killed those creatures we brought aboard—they looked like this one. And the man Stoon. We saw them dead, my mate and I. No one else! Please! Believe me!
So it went, words spoken in desperation, answers tinged with fantasy and lies, all of it useless. Arling turned away. “Can they be set free?” she asked Edinja without looking at her.
The sorceress shrugged. “I will give it some thought.”
But she wouldn’t. Arling could tell from the way she said it. “Can I speak with the captain of the ship?”
Edinja Orle gave her a sympathetic look. “That might be rather difficult.”
She took the girl by her arm and steered her across the room to a table. Another of the creatures was fastened to it, bound by leather straps, limbs splayed across its metal surface, head pulled back, mouth open. A funnel had been forced down its throat, and it was gagging on the metal end lodged in its windpipe and quaking as if with a fever.
Beneath the table, a huge ginger moor cat, its colorings starkly beautiful, was gnawing on a piece of meat.
Edinja reached out and extracted the funnel. The creature did not look at her, its eyes fixed on a point somewhere between the table and the ceiling of the room. It had the look of a dead thing, as if any spark of what had made it human had been leached away.