The Silent Tempest (Book 2) by Michael G. Manning Read Free Book Online

her.
    She stopped screaming, but her fear was no less.
Haley continued to cower, her eyes searching the room, hoping against reason to
find some way to escape the horror.
    Sighing, Tyrion dismissed the red whip. Obviously,
Haley had been treated to its use a few times already, and the sight of it
would only make her state of mind worse. Instead, he loosened his control of
the old man’s throat, returning his power of speech.
    “Please!” begged Gwaeri. “I’ll do anything.”
    “Of course you will…” sneered Tyrion. “…now. But I
have to make sure I can trust you after I have gone. You are obviously too sly
to make a simple bargain.”
    “No! I was just testing you. I never meant to
offend. I will make sure no harm comes to her…”
    “Yes,” interrupted Tyrion. “Yes, you will. After you
awaken, I will explain precisely, why you will do anything and everything I ask
of you.” Reaching out with his aythar, he drove the older mage into
unconsciousness, forcing his mind to sleep. Then he relaxed his hold.
    Haley stood at the door. She had been trying to force
it to open, and now she shivered when she saw her father’s gaze fall on her.
    “I need your help,” he told her. “Carve a small
sliver of wood from your bed, then burn it. I need black ash to mark him, and
a bit of urine.”
    She stared at him uncomprehendingly, her mind in
shock.
    “Use your power to slice a small piece of wood off,
then make a small flame to burn it. I’ve already shown you how to do both.
Snap out of it!”
    Startled, she jumped, but after a moment she moved to
do as he told her. Her aythar was rough and untrained, but she managed to cut
a small piece of wood as he had asked. She wasn’t sure where to burn it
however, “Where…?”
    “Use the food bowl,” he said, indicating the bowls
they had recently emptied.
    Haley dropped it in before producing a small flame and
carefully burning the wood. She scorched the bowl as well, but that was of
little consequence to Tyrion. After finishing, she held it out to her father.
    “Mix a little urine in with it,” he commanded, “but
crush the charred wood first.”
    “Uri…” She stopped without completing the word.
    “Piss in the bowl, or your hand, however you think
best. Just a little bit mind you. I need it to be more fluid than a paste,
but not much.”
    Haley went to the farthest corner of the room, but it
took several long minutes before she managed to complete the task.
    I should have done that myself, he
thought. Haley had been scared, and her body ill-equipped for the job. Her
hands were a mess and her face was red with shame. Hesitantly, she brought him
the bowl, retreating as soon as he had taken it from her hands.
    He mixed the blackened charcoal as thoroughly as
possible, crushing the larger pieces with his mind and turning it into a thick
slurry. Then he leaned over the unconscious warden.
    “W—what are y—you going to do?” asked Haley.
    He grinned, but immediately regretted it. The
expression seemed to frighten her more. Looking back at Gwaeri, he answered,
“I’m going to tattoo our friend here to ensure his loyalty.” He pushed the
man’s gray hair and slave collar aside, studying the warden’s neck as he chose
the spot for his artwork.
    ***
    When Gwaeri awoke sometime later, the first thing he
noticed was a stinging burn at his throat. Instinctively, he tried to reach
up, fearing a cut, but his arm refused to move.
    “I’ll release you in a moment,” said the Illeniel
warden looking down on him.
    “What have you done?”
    “I’ve given you a reason to cooperate,” answered
Tyrion. With a thought, he activated the tattoos along his right arm. He held
the force blade up in front of his prisoner’s eyes. “You know what this is?”
    “Everyone has heard of your arm-blades.” Gwaeri’s
attention was firmly on the deadly weapon.
    “Does ‘everyone’ know that it is capable of severing
She’Har spellweaving?” asked Tyrion.
    “Your