She knew she was in for some trouble. The trip from her tutoring chambers to the interrogation room was relatively short. It was the first time that she had been outside since that sickening teleport though. The sunlight was painful, like sewing needles pricking her eyes; the clothing she had been supplied barely adequate to stave off the cold. So it was that she reached up to rub a little warmth into her arms as she stepped into the chamber.
She didn't see the guards on either side of the door that pushed her to her knees; the only thing she saw was the statue of the Radiance at the back of the room before she received a boot to the middle of her back that forced her forehead to the floor. Followed soon thereafter by a voice that she could have sworn that she had heard before.
"Some just don't learn fast enough. Now we have a few questions for you demon-spawn. You will answer them." She furrowed her brow in concentration, the voice was so familiar. She hadn't heard it in a little while but…she heaved a sigh and let it pass. It would come to her or not as the Laughing One willed. Besides dwelling on it would only wear her out more.
There was a brief pause before another voice picked up with the first question.
"Who are you?"
"Sareth M'Kilas."There was a tingling sensation at the base of her skull. She received a harsh amount of pressure to her spine when she attempted to reach to itch the spot. There were some barely audible sounds…speaking?...oh how she wished that she could see what was going on.
"Who sent you?"
She frowned into the floor puzzled as to the seeming inaness of the question. Couldn't they at least come up with something better than that? Torture shouldn't be this humorous. "No one sent me. I was pulled from my original destination during a teleport."
There was more pressure on her back as the next question came. The seam of the ice cold granite tiles bit into her cheek. If she didn't know better she could have sworn that boot boy was trying to make her face occupy the same space as the tile beneath it. It continued on like this for some time, pressure never lifting but increasing with every question that she apparently did not answer to their liking. Then the question she had been expecting all along came.
"Where is the former Lord High Praetor?"
"Hopefully sipping tea with his daughter and son-in-law in Nuelm!"She spat out defiantly; jaw grinding into the floor with each word. She had gotten tired of their little game. For all she knew they had him and were just doing this in order have some sort of sick fun.
Spots swam before her eyes as she was hauled to her feet, luckily she did not pass out. Before her vision cleared she was slapped hard several times, adding the sharp sting of a bruised cheek to that of her aching neck and back. She still hadn't caught a glimpse of the face that went with the voice as a blindfold was placed over her eyes.
Someone seized her shoulders. The grip was extremely strong as she attempted to struggle free of it. Her thrashing did not get her far as she felt two more sets of hands clamp down at her wrists and knees. At first her mind registered that there should be three but as her sense expanded along her captors arms she realized that all three sets of hands belonged to one person. A pit of dread opened up in her stomach. She had only met one being with six arms and he accompanied only one person. "Illim!" she whispered in surprise. Then a bit louder. "Shouldn't you be at the front?"
There was no answer save for a resoundingly hard slap that rattled her teeth. As her head cleared, she could have sworn that she heard the clicking and scraping of something on the floor in an almost type of code. She wasn't sure but soon after the noise stopped she heard his voice again, sounding almost pleased. "Prepare her."
His six armed slave's hands tightened on her as he moved. His grip shifted and she felt her arms being chained over her head, toes barely scraping the floor. Then her hand me down clothing was removed so that she was naked.
As she concentrated on the feel of her bonds, she realized that they were not metal. They had all the strength, if not more than, the finest crafted mithril but were entirely too soft, comfortable even. She gasped, opening her eyes suddenly beneath the blindfold, as she felt her stomach churn a bit from the sudden movement from standing to laying.
Something cold and wet touched the center of her naval, meticulously twisting its way outward on her stomach. She counted the ever-widening spiral…one, two, three…a total of thirteen times from mid-point to outermost edge. Somewhere around loop number seven she felt the bristles of the brush, they were extremely coarse, feeling more like spikes than hair. About swirl nine she felt her skin begin to warm, tingling in a most unpleasant fashion. After the brush was replaced with a hard object that was slightly warmer than her tingling skin which also started its journey at the center point of her naval, she started to feel ready for something elusive. As the object finished each of its lines with quick, practiced strokes, the feeling began to settle low in her stomach. She thought briefly about the lines as they were drawn; center to left nipple, center to right nipple, center to bottom of the left rib cage, center to bottom of right. Her eyes widened at the last, center strait down. Down so far that she could have sworn that the creator of this pictograph would reach inside to recreate it there. The cold wetness of the brush returned, made even colder now that her skin felt like it was on fire. Small, Precise strokes created one glyph and then another that felt as if it were being cold-branded into her skin. It dawned on her that this must be a ritual of some kind. After several minutes the brush was removed from her naked torso, just to move to her forehead. Just a couple of swift, sure strokes there and it moved on to her chin skipping the blindfold. Once these markings were complete she felt distanced from herself, there but as if she were like her mapping rock, just recording what was around her. Finally the blindfold was removed and the loathsome voice continued.
"You will witness every moment of this, in the future you will dread forever what is coming but never truly remember why."
As he finished his little speech the servant lined her eyes just so with the warm hardness of the charcoal pencil. Starting with the upper lid, he traced along the crease coming to the corner and out, curling the tale of the line along the upper edge of her temple. Then he repeated the simple lining on her bottom, this time tracing along the bottom edge of the temple and ending with a swirl in the center of it. She felt the muscles paralyze locking her eyes open. For the first time in about five years she saw Ilim, his eyes were still that overly intense violet that you either fell into or shuddered at the site of. His lean, toned body was just as decorated as hers was. Arrayed behind him was a rack of 'toys' that she doubted even Cherry knew all the uses for.
"To answer your earlier question, I am on respite at the moment, which I am going to enjoy much more than you."He looked to his servant. "Be sure to inform Serge that her questioning is going to take longer than originally anticipated and to ask the students to forgive her stubbornness."
He folded his six arms over his chest and bowed before sauntering off to do his masters bidding.
She watched with dread as Illim came nearer with a wicked short blade. The dread turned to shock as she felt her body tingle with anticipation. Her captor just smiled at the reaction. "Oh, yes I am going to enjoy this much more!"
