9.
(A cave not far from Neverwinter)
"I wonder," I say menacingly, easing my fingertip over the top of my mace, "I wonder why I shouldn't take this opportunity to bash in your skull. No one would miss you. I don't suppose you could give me a reason to let you live?"
"For starters, you haven't got it in you. I can also be useful to you. Unless you've turned into a murdering sadist over night, you'll listen to what I have to say."
"A murdering sadist. Way to call it, Bishop. I don't know much about being a murderer." I hold the mace up to the firelight so that each pointed facet around its edges can catch the glimmer it gives off. "I wanted so badly to give you a chance to be a decent human being. But I'm afraid we can't seem to see eye to eye. First you send someone to rape and murder the man I love... that would be Casavir," I say matter-of-factly. "Then you have your pet gutter-whore try again, and the two of you kill an innocent patron of the Sunken Flagon without a second thought. I wonder if it wouldn't be a better world if I ended your travels right here and now." I look down at him from where I stand above him and notice that the word "rape" has caught him off guard. He shrugs it off in an attempt to bury his surprise in his usual smirk. It's unconvincing with him tied like an animal ready for the slaughter.
"I'm sure he didn't protest too much, 'noble leader'. It's said that you can't rape the willing."
"You can taunt me all you like. You seem to know a great deal about hurting people, but nothing about love. And I love Casavir, Bishop. I don't care what you or your lice-ridden sidekick has to say about it."
"You talk a lot about love," he says, turning his head to the side and spitting dirt and gravel from his mouth. I have his hands tied behind his back so that he can only roll from where he lies on his stomach in the cave floor. "From what I hear," he goes on, in a low, almost threatening tone, "there isn't much love at all going around." He waits for a beat, then raises his voice suggestively. "Of course, I could change that."
Neeshka and Shandra, standing just outside, poke their collective heads inside of the entrance.
"Are you just about finished with him?" Shandra asks, looking sheepish. "Call of nature."
"I'll be a while yet. Why don't you go off and take care of things and then come back. Neeshka will keep a watch. Right, Neesh?"
"I could stay out here all night, Una. But it'll cost ya." She winks.
"Thirty gold. No more than that. Go on." Neeshka nods, and pops her head back out of the cave. I'm truly grateful that it rains sometimes in Faerun so that I can find such convenient little places to interrogate those plotting against me without interference. Although this is only the first time I've used this particular cave, it's serving its purpose well. I remember the day that Casavir showed me how to dig this firepit and how to keep the fire going. Why not have done with it? And why not kill him while I have the chance?
Because he's right. Something in me still believes in a fair trial and that perhaps people can change. And not only that, but he's the only link I have to the psychotic woman that seems hell bent on ending Casavir's life.
And so here I sit, trying to worm something, anything, out of Bishop. It took all three of us to get him on the cart. Carrying him in was no problem after that. Tying him up was a joy.
"I want to know why you removed the contract."
"I decided that he was more valuable to me alive than dead. All this time, making you believe that he could give you what you wanted. And then, when you agreed to lie on your back like a good girl, he couldn't bring himself to finish what he started. Me, I never end what I've started until I get what I want. And I think you're a fool if you can see something that you want but don't have the guts to go for it."
I've been too intent on listening to his every word to notice that his hands are untied. Before I know it he's used an incredibly dextrous act of contortion to get out of his bonds, flip over, and find a seated position. I tighten my grip on the mace and take it into both of my hands, but he interrupts. "Oh, now, don't bother with all of that. I can see that I'm outnumbered for the moment. If someone had to drag me off of the road, it might as well be you. Give me some water."
I'm suddenly frightened when I realize how vulnerable I've become. The dynamic has changed completely. Now we are face to face instead of interrogator and victim. Deciding it would be best to carry out his request, I toss him a wineskin. He grabs it, sucking it down until it's flat.
"You're a liar, Bishop. I don't believe you'd take the contract off of Casavir just so you could wallow in my frustration. You're going to have to do better than that."
"There's the problem," he says. "I didn't tell her to do what she did. It's what she likes. But what she did worked better than anything I could have planned. Now, if you'll send your guards packing, I can explain myself better. I promise to go slowly."
All at once I'm completely frozen with terror, and the mace I hold feels like scant protection from the unpredictable man inches from my face.
"Who'll know? I've got what you want." He lifts his shirt, using the flat of his hand to draw a path from the area between his nipples down to the line of hair below his navel. I watch the subtle movement of his breathing lift that chest, and for a moment he could be any man. But it isn't enough for me. The one thing that he doesn't understand is that flesh alone will never be enough.
"Step away from me, Bishop. Back up against the wall."
His face, illuminated by the orange glow of the fire, becomes more of the animal. I can't tell if the anger in his face is rejection or hatred.
"Fine," he snarls. "If you want to waste your life playing the virgin, that's your problem. But you have no way of proving that I've done anything. And that's the way it's going to stay if you want you-know-who to keep her blades to herself."
Dumbstruck, I slide down the cave wall into a seated position. He's got me.
Neeshka leans her head in again.
"We okay?"
I think of Casavir, who is probably still stranded in the Flagon being interrogated. I think of his large, battle-scarred hands. I imagine the tenderness of his fingertips moving up and down my back while he whispers softly into my ear. And I know that I will do anything, anything, to ensure his safety.
"We're fine, Neeshka. We're leaving now."
"All of us?"
"We've managed to reach an understanding," Bishop says, standing.
I feel as though I've freed a caged animal, and yet I know that it was the only thing to do.