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Most men complacently accept knowledge as truth. They are sheep, ruled by fear. - Sydney Losstarot
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Callo did not move at first, muscles frozen in shock. Sydney descended several steps further. "Hardin!" He called over his shoulder, "We have ourselves an unexpected guest."
Fear replaced the shock, and Callo found suddenly that she could move. She whirled around and dashed towards the iron grate. If she could get through, she could alert Ashley -
- there was a rush of movement, and then Sydney was in front of her!
Callo swallowed a scream and staggered away. Something caught her from behind; her arms were wrenched behind her back. With a savage cry she lashed out with one leg, kicking backwards and connecting with whoever it was that held her. There was an explosive curse, and she was released. She whirled, dodging past the man -Hardin- who had held her, thinking to flee up the stairs. Her flight was halted abruptly, however, as Sydney was again before her, blocking her path. She stood then balanced on the stairs, caught between the two men, glancing frantically back and forth to try and determine some method of escape. Sydney caught her gaze, shaking his head; she knew then it was hopeless.
Her adrenalin vanished in a sudden rush, leaving her feeling somewhat weak and disoriented. Rough hands seized her shoulders and hauled her roughly from the stairs before whirling her around and shoving her against the wall. She hit hard, the breath leaving her body. Hardin limped over to her, favoring the leg she had kicked. The glare he gave her was ferocious.
"That," he growled, "hurt."
Callo, overwhelmed with dismay and fear, did nothing but stare at him apprehensively. Sydney descended the stairs slowly, regarding her with a contemplative expression. Hardin turned as the Müllenkamp leader approached.
"Sydney, what will we do with her?"
The other was silent a moment as if pondering. Callo waited for his reply with bated breath; she knew that should he order her death, Hardin would not hesitate to comply.
"We take her with us," Sydney replied finally.
Hardin scowled. "Is that wise?"
The prophet ignored the question, coming to crouch before Callo. His eyes, dark and piercing beneath the long, wayward strands of his pale hair, caught and held her own. "She will cooperate with us. Won't you, Inquisitor ?"
Callo gasped. He'd called her by her VKP title, something that none outside the VKP knew of. How had he known? A small smile creased Sydney's lips at her reaction, and he stood.
"She's one of them, Sydney." Hardin said with heavy warning.
"I am aware of that," the other replied.
"But -"
"Hardin," Sydney said, and his tone carried a warning of his own, "Go up and fetch your ward. We must be off."
For a moment the two men stared at each other, and the tension between them was almost tangible. Hardin bowed his head then, and with another hard look at Callo he walked past them both and back up the stairs.
Sydney walked to the iron grate through which Ashley had disappeared and peered through to the other side. Callo watched him warily. He was nothing like she had pictured from all the rumors and heresay: he was a tall man, lean and fair. His attire was somewhat bizarre; he was bare from the waist up, his legs encased in thin mail on top of dark leather. Hanging from his waist and falling to the ground was a leather skirting, opened wide in the front. From the shoulder down his arms were covered in riveted plate mail. The armor gloved his hands as well, elongating his fingers into deceivingly delicate claws. As he moved, his armor clinked softly, melodiously, and his skirting whispered across the floor. Standing as he was now, she had a clear view of the intricate tattoo which covered most of his back; a multitude of dark lines coming together to form what she realized was a variation of the holy Rood symbol.
As if sensing her scrutiny, the Müllenkamp leader turned and walked to stand before her. He said, in an almost conversational tone, "The ruins of Leá Monde are no place for a lady, Inquisitor Merlose."
"How do you know my name?" Callo asked.
Again he smiled. "I know many things."
Realization hit her then of how he knew. She'd said it herself earlier to Ashley: "He has a strange power. He can guess the past of those he meets. He can even read hearts ...
It was true, she thought somewhat numbly. All the things that had been said of Sydney Losstarot were true!
Sudden noise drew their attention to the stairs. Hardin appeared, holding the hand of a timid looking young boy. Callo's eyes widened as she recognized the child. It was Joshua, the grandson of Duke Bardorba. The boy cast her a frightened glance before hiding behind Hardin's legs. Hardin's own gaze softened momentarily, and he laid a comforting hand on the boy's head.
"We must be off," Sydney said. "Guildenstern will have sent the Blades after us."
Guildenstern. Callo recognized the name. Romeo Guildenstern, the Captain of the Knights of the Cross. He was renowned throughout Valendia; his reputation was that of a cold and calculating soldier who had but one calling: the vicious indulgence of Christian justice. Among the Knights of the Cross were an elite group called the Crimson Blades, rumored to be the most fearsome lot of knights. Leading the Crimson Blades, Guildenstern had been the one to drive Müllenkamp out of Bardorba Manor. There was no love lost between religious orders and the VKP, and Callo had to wonder why Guildenstern had bothered to pursue Müllenkamp this far.
Sydney moved to the grate and pulled it open. The grating screech of long rusted metal echoed eerily throughout the room, and the boy made a frightened sound. The Müllenkamp leader turned to face Callo with a speculative look.
"Hardin," he said, "bind the Inquisitor. That will deter her from doing something rash."
The other man nodded and withdrew from a loop at his waist a coil of thin rope. Callo did not move as he approached her, nor did she make sound when he turned her around and roughly bound her wrists behind her back. Once Hardin was finished, Sydney gave a satisfied nod.
"Let us proceed," he said, and stepped through the door. Hardin, again holding the hand of the boy, gestured for Callo to walk. She followed Sydney with her eyes downcast, and could not help but wonder what danger she'd stumbled into.