He studied my face intently. Finally, he pulled away and nodded to his guard, who removed the knives and tightly wrapped my wounds. The tang of my own blood permeated the room. Slowly, patiently, the turbaned man cleaned his knives and inserted them back into the pouch of tools he used to torture people. I watched him with indifference as I pressed my tongue against my loose tooth.
This man had a lot in common with Lokesh, I decided. But Lokesh was a hard act to follow. I’d seen much worse than this fellow could dish out. The blood soaked the wrapping on my shoulder and hand and continued to trickle down my face as well. The hot beads of blood dripped from my chin and stained my shirt, but I felt distant from the whole thing.
Strangely, I was almost grateful to Lokesh for that. Overcoming him had given me a level of self-confidence that I’d never had before. His utter ruthlessness required us to elevate all our heroic, brave instincts to fight him as equals. Without him, I wouldn’t have the fortitude and strength I possessed. Any other villain I’d faced since—warlords, despots, tyrants, and criminals—just couldn’t compare. This one, though, deserved to die. And would, in fact, perish at my hands or claws, at my first opportunity.
He didn’t scare me. His knives, the posturing, and his flights of rage were nothing more than inconveniences. I honestly didn’t care about the weapons he traded either, or the fact that he bought and used slaves. But a man who did such things to children deserved the wrath of the goddess and her tiger, and one way or another, we would rain it down upon him.
When his knives were put away, I said, “Take the stone between your hands.” After he did, I added, “Now, tell me that you will let the girl go free.”
He hesitated for just a beat and then said, “Yes, yes. If you tell me the secret of the magic, I’ll set her free.”
The phoenix egg stayed dark. “You’re lying,” I said.
“You are in no position to question—”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, I know you are lying because the stone stays dark. When someone speaks the truth, the stone glows from within. Watch it carefully, and I will show you.” Leaning forward, I said, “When I escape, and I assure you I will, there will be no shadow too dark, no closet too hidden for me to find you, and when I do, I will bring your death within that hour.”
When I finished speaking, the truth stone glowed with an inner light, and the turbaned man lifted his hands away quickly, crying out, “It lives!”
“Yes,” I said. “It is a living thing, and when the truth is spoken, it glows.”
He sat back and rotated the stone, peering at it carefully as it dimmed. Tilting his head, he said, “This is a trick.”
“It is no trick,” I said. “Test it yourself. See if you can trap it in a lie.”
The man sat back, licking his lips as he looked from the stone to me with heavy lids. “My mother died when I was four,” he began.
The stone glowed, illuminating his face with a devilish light.
“I love camels,” was his next attempt and the fire inside the stone darkened. “I can trust my personal guard,” he said, and the stone stayed dim. He made eye contact with the guard at my side and the man swallowed, his forearms tensing.
Ignoring the guard for the moment, he uttered statement after statement, declaring everything from his favorite fruit to the name of a mouse he’d once kept as a pet to the place where he kept his gold. Truth, lie, lie. He then practiced on his guard, asking him a series of questions, and it quickly became evident that all was not as he had supposed within his household. This went on for some time until he finally sat back, satisfied.
“This is a valuable treasure, indeed,” the man said. “With such an object, no man will ever be able to lie to me again. There are so many possibilities.”
My mind worked at the same time his did. There were many things a man such as him could use the stone for. It was dangerous leaving it in his hands.
“Why did you leave it behind?” he asked me, pulling me from my thoughts.
I shrugged. “Saving the children was more important.”
He glanced down at the stone but it remained dark.
Sighing, I said, “I didn’t see it.”
The egg glowed.
“Ah.” He smiled contentedly. “I find there is much I want to ask you, but I confess that I’d like to test out this stone of truth a bit further first. Take him back to his cell,” he said to the guard and then warned him. “And do not think I will forget the truths the stone revealed about your loyalty,” he said. “I’d tread very carefully if I were you.”
The nervous guard bowed quickly and jerked me to my feet, cuffing me for good measure before his master left, shutting the door behind him.
“He’s going to kill you, you know,” I said as he escorted me back to my cell.
“Shut up,” he warned.
The man shoved me into my cell and headed up and out the cellar door, locking it as he did. Even though it was early afternoon, we were all plunged in darkness. I took the edge of my shirt and pressed it against my bleeding mouth.
When the footsteps above disappeared, I heard a soft voice nearby. “I’ve still got the knife,” the boy whispered. “I’ve used it to open my lock.”
“Good job, son,” I said. “Do you think you can open mine?”
“I think so.”
“Be careful. When you hear them come back, make sure you get back in your cell and close the door.”
“I will.”
A moment later, I heard the swing of his door as it creaked open, and soon the young boy was working on my lock.
“I can’t do it,” he said. “Here. You can try yourself,” he added, trying to pass me the knife through the bars of my cage.
“You’re going to have to do it,” I said gently. “My hand has been injured.”
“Did he take your fingers?” a voice two cells away asked. “He took two of mine.”
I sucked in a deep breath, trying to swallow the pain I felt for this young person who’d suffered at the hands of the soulless turbaned man. “No,” I answered quietly. “I just can’t move my hand. I’m sorry he hurt you,” I told him. “We’re going to get free. All of us.”
It took several more minutes for the boy to pick my lock. Then he moved to another cell. He’d opened several locks and had started working on the other side when we heard the click of boots on the floor above us. “Hurry back to your cell!” I said. “Don’t forget to shut your door and hide the knife!”
The boy had just managed to get into his cell and shut the door when the cellar door opened. “Here’s your dinner,” the man said as he ladled a pungent stew into a bowl and shoved it toward the grasping hands of each child. When he reached the third cell, he banged his arm against it and the door creaked open.
“You bleeding idiot!” the man said to his helper guard. “If the master found out you’d left the cage unlocked, he’d break your ankles and leave you in the desert to rot!” In disgust, he locked the door and then studied the next one. “This one too? Unbelievable! Check them all.”
When they got to my cage, they both eyed me suspiciously, but I lay facing them, pressing my shirt to my mouth, and groaning. They searched me but found nothing. Continuing on, they methodically tested all the cages, and since only a few had been unlocked, the guard blamed his fellow rather than suspecting foul play.
Once all of us had a bowl of stew and a cup of water, they opened Ana’s cage and pulled her out. “Master wants to see you,” the man said. They stood clear of me though I still lay prone near the wall. They must have heard the story of how I’d killed the other guard.
The moment they disappeared and the cellar door closed, my young friend began picking his lock again. “Hurry,” I said. “I’ve got to help her.”
When he opened his cage, he began frantically working on mine. Once mine was unlocked, I took the knife from him and headed to the cellar door. Even with the weapon, there was no way to open it. I cursed the fact that Ana was in the hands of the turbaned man and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.