![]() ![]() Instead, they’d beaten him skillfully and dunked him until he thought he was drowned. Now he wept for them, too, and for the horror of their death.Īs the tears subsided, he wondered again why he’d been spared, why Lord Asengai repeatedly told the torturers, “Don’t mark the boy too badly.” So they hadn’t seared him with red-hot irons or cut off his ears or opened his skin with knotted whips as they had with the others. Alec had never met either of them before his capture but they had treated him kindly. They’d hanged the miller yesterday and the one called Danker had died under torture. It scratched painfully against the welts and bruises that bloomed across his bare skin, but it was better than nothing and all he had. Still weeping, the boy burrowed deeper into the sour straw. Chained again in his corner of the drafty cell, Alec turned his face to the rough stone wall and sobbed until his chest ached.Īn icy mountain wind sighed through the grating overhead, carrying with it the sweet scent of snow to come. ![]() Asengai’s torturers were regular in their habits-they always left off at sunset. ![]()
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