Terra Incognita

39

Tilla stared at the row of faces in front of her: seven local men, some of whom she recognized. None of whom deserved to be stood squinting into the afternoon sun in the courtyard of an army headquarters building. One had blood dripping from his nose. Another had a swollen eye. There would be other injuries, deliberately inflicted where they would not show.

The medicus had delivered her to the same quietly spoken officer who had arrested Rianorix last night. At first she had not recognized him. The hair that had glinted blond in the torchlight was dull brown by day. As soon as she realized who it was she had wanted to beg the medicus to stay with her, but she was afraid the quiet one would tell him where he had found her last night. The medicus, who liked to think he was a reasonable man, would not be reasonable about that. So she had said nothing when he repeated, “Just do your best,” and abandoned her.

The quiet one had led her into the courtyard and told her to say which of these men she had seen in the yard at the inn.

“I saw a god,” she said. “These are men. I do not know any of them.”

“Look again.”

She looked again, noting a bent nose that was nothing to do with the army: It had been broken years ago in a fight with her oldest brother.

The men were staring straight ahead, showing no sign of remembering her although several must have been surprised to see her there. She said truthfully, “None of them was in the yard.”

“Take a good look.”

“I have taken a good look,” she said, loud enough for them to hear. “I do not know them. You have arrested the wrong men and hurt them for no reason.”

Instead of being angry, the officer smiled. “Come with me,” he said.

She followed him out of the courtyard, past the guards, and straight down a wide paved street. Before they reached the gatehouse the officer turned off to the right and led her to what looked like some sort of deserted workshop or storehouse. The windows were secured with bars against thieves. He unlocked the main door and led her into a small room. The sole item of furniture was a solid wooden chair bracketed to the center of the floor. On the wall beside her hung four sets of chains, a knotted rope, and a long-handled iron tool that reminded her of blacksmith’s pliers. Already she wanted to scream.

“Now then,” he said pleasantly, closing the heavy door behind her and locking it. “You’ve put on your little show for your friends. They can’t hear you in here. So tell me which one it is.”

“I am already tell you,” insisted Tilla, aware that she was losing her grip on Latin and angry with herself for betraying her fear, “I do not know those men!”

The officer shook his head sadly. “I do wish I could believe you, Tilla. I really do.”

“I cannot tell what I do not know. Let me talk to the medicus. He will tell you.”

“Oh, dear. I do so hate to get cross with attractive young ladies.”

“I do not know those men. Please. Let me-”

“Not one of them? You’ve never seen any of them before in your life?”

Outside she could hear men shouting orders. The sharp screech of boot studs swiveling on paving stones. Someone laughing. She forced herself not to look at the dark stains on the floor around the chair. Rianorix had spent the night in this room. She had seen what this man had done to him. “I have seen some of them before,” she whispered. “They live near here. None of them is the man in the yard.”

The officer’s smile looked almost relieved. “Thank you, Tilla,” he said.

“Or shall I call you Darlughdacha? That wasn’t so very difficult, was it? Now tell me about your friend Rianorix.”