Late night. The great hall. Maren sat on his throne and the court stood and nobody made a sound.
The thief had escaped and the documents were gone. Voss stood before the warlord with his jaw clenched so tight the iron-gray was flickering across his skin.
"Three days, " Maren said."I was generous, Commander. Now find the thief's accomplice."
Voss turned. His eyes moved across the court slowly. Checking faces. Chris stood near the back with the other slaves and did not move and did not breathe. The eyes passed over him. Then came back.
Voss did not point. Did not speak. Just looked. Chris felt something cold settle in his stomach that had nothing to do with the warmth.
'He knows. he has no proof yet. But he knows.'
Morning. The slave yard. Voss did not use his fists this time. He used questions.
Delivered in front of every slave in the pens. Public interrogation was not about answers. It was about everyone else watching you squirm.
"Where were you during the escape?"
"Performing for the night watch. Ask them."
"Why were you performing at that hour?"
"Because insomnia is a chronic condition and also i'm very entertaining."
A few slaves snorted. Voss's eye twitched. His Iron Face was stable again.
He did not like being embarrassed in front of the warlord. He liked less that a jester had an alibi. The alibi was real. Chris had been performing. He had also been creating a distraction so the Thief could escape. The truth and the crime were the same event described two ways. It was the best cover he had ever had.
'He can't prove anything. But suspicion is enough. Voss doesn't need proof. He just needs an excuse.'
The interrogation room was a closet with a stone floor and a drain in the corner. The drain was the bad part. Drains were for cleaning the blood.
Voss dragged Chris inside and shut the door. No audience. No witnesses.
Chris was just a bruised kid alone with a Song Depth killer in a room designed for hurting people. Voss pinned him to the wall by the throat. One hand. Chris's feet left the ground. The stone was cold against his back. He couldn't breath or speak. and couldn't joke around.
Without laughter he had nothing. No speed. No strength. No warmth. Just a body that was about to break.
"You helped the thief." Voss's voice was calm. "I know it. You know it. The only question is whether I destroy you here or in the pit."
Chris tried to say something. Nothing came out. His windpipe was closing. Black spots at the edges of his vision. His hands clawed at Voss's wrist and found iron. His feet kicked at nothing.
'I'm going to die in a closet.what an end'
A knock on the door.
"Warlord's orders. The jester performs at lunch. Uninjured."
Voss held on for two more seconds. Chris felt them. Both of them. Then Voss lowered him slowly. "Maren wants you whole." Voss let go. Chris dropped to the floor and gasped and the air. "For now."
Chris looked up from the floor. Blood on his lip. His throat already swelling. He grinned. "Thanks for the pep talk. Really inspiring."
Voss kicked him once in the ribs and left. The door closed. Chris lay on the stone and stared at the drain and thought about how close he had just come to not existing. ' 'Being useful doesn't mean safe.Damn it Harsk was right. '
He dragged himself back to the pens. It took a long time.
Harsk found him on his mat and knelt in the shadows and the torch on the wall went dim. The pain eased.
"You nearly died," Harsk said.
"I know."
"Without an audience, you're just a boy."
"I KNOW. I'VE HEARD THAT BEFORE"
It came out louder than Chris intended. The other slaves looked over and then looked away because a slave yelling in the pens was unusual and nobody wanted to get involved. Harsk did not flinch.
"Then start thinking about what happens when you can't be funny. What happens when the situation is so bad that no one can laugh?" Chris did not answer. He did not have an answer.
The question sat in his chest next to the absence of warmth. 'No audience, no power. That's my death sentence.'
Lunch. The great hall. Chris walked in with a throat that was visibly swollen and ribs that screamed when he breathed. He was used it.
"I'd like to thank Commander Voss for the motivational coaching session this morning. Very hands-on." The court tittered nervously. The warmth came in small amounts.
Chris pushed. "He told me I could be anything I want. looking at the current circumstances i chosed to be alive . it's more than enough, right commander?"
More braver laughter this time.
His ribs stopped hurting
He should have stopped. The warmth was back and the crowd was with him.
But Chris did not stop. He pushed.
He mimicked Voss's interrogation. The wall pin. The slow squeeze. The calm voice. He acted out the whole thing, pressing an invisible victim against an invisible wall, and for a moment the court laughed because it was a good impression.
Then the laughter stopped.
The court went from amused to horrified in the space between one breath and the next. Because Chris was not mocking Voss's walk or his voice anymore. He was showing the court what Voss did when nobody was watching. And that was not comedy. That was exposure.
Chris backed toward the exit, smile frozen on his face. Voss stood making the court held its breath.
'i hate myself,i gone too far.'
Voss crossed the hall. Chris was frozen.
The exit was twenty feet away and Voss moved faster than a man made of iron should move and there was nowhere to go and nothing to say.
Then Delk stepped out from behind a pillar.
He did not speak. He did not move. He just looked at Voss. Pure Fear radiated off the kid.
The court gasped Voss took one Involuntary step. His iron gray foot scraped backward on the stone and the sound was audible in the silent hall.
"Commander, did the scary teenager bother you?"
Voss recovered. His Iron Face snapped back into place and he crossed the remaining distance and grabbed Delk by the throat. The kid's feet left the ground. The Fear aura sputtered and died
Chris stepped forward.
"Let him go. He's just a kid. "
Voss looked at him. "and what are you?"
Chris met his eyes. "technically I'm also a kid but I'm also the reason this court is laughing.... at you"
The court was watching. Voss's grip tightened on Delk's throat. Chris felt something inside himself. has something to do with the warmth even though no one was laughing.
Maren's voice cut through the hall. "Enough. Both fighters are needed for the exhibition."
Voss released Delk. The kid dropped and gasped. Chris exhaled.
He walked Delk back to the pens. The kid was rubbing his throat and not talking.
The corridor was empty. The torches were low. Chris's mind was somewhere else.
Delk spoke first. "You really stood up to him."
"It was nothing."
"I felt something in you." Delk's voice was low.
"I'm not sure but when you were serious. Your power flickered."
Chris kept walking. He did not want to have this conversation. The conversation happened anyway because Delk continued.
"what happen when people takes you seriously? i mean what happens to the warmth?"
"It goes away. Being taken seriously kills my power. That's the Crack. That's it. '
"So you can never be earnest." Delk said it flat. Not a question.
"Guess not."
Delk nodded and walked into the pens disappearing into his corner.
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A/N: I hope you enjoy this novel. Support by adding to your library and giving a power stone or two. Thank you.