~ Chapter 21: Everyone Talks ~

Erasmus sat next to the bed, watching Breeze. He didn't know what to think.

Three weeks locked in this room, with the only company besides Fenton the local weirmother, who occasionally visited to scold Breeze and put salves on his cuts. She said he would walk again, but always with a limp. Told him he should be dead, and said he was a proper northern fool. Breeze said that was fine, it was true.

Erasmus spent the time chatting with Fenton, or sitting on the floor beside Breeze's sickbed. He would go two or three days without sleep, then collapse into a dreamless heap. Whenever he closed his eyes he saw the duel again; saw the sickle cutting into his wolf's knee, saw Nail's paws wrapped tight around his throat. He would feel the pain and anger and hatred he'd soothed from Breeze during it, building up in his chest, tight, like a volcano ready to blow. Most of all he saw the end. He saw Nail, weak and helpless, paws raised, finished. His skull. Shattered. Broken.

There was no other way, but he wished there had been.

“We need to get moving." Breeze groaned as the weirmother tottered out. He sneered at the point in the blankets that hid his wrecked knee.

As they'd thought, Nail's sickle had near split his kneecap in two. The joint beneath the bone plate sported some nasty bruising, but it was still in one piece. The plate itself (which the weirmother called a 'patellar') was a clean break, with only minor fraying to each halves edge. The weirmother said Breeze was the luckiest son of a bitch she'd seen in her life. He remained quiet. His left palm had bandages wrapped around the point where Nail stabbed through it, but he could still move his fingers. The lacerations on his chest and thigh were deep, but the blade hadn't hit anything vital. He sweated an infection out over the first twelve days, a process aided by the weirmother and her runes, bleeding some vile black ooze from his wounds.

Whatever they did worked. Breeze was currently crippled, covered in scars and scabs and gauze, his whole body bruised beyond belief – but he was alive.

“They still have Abigail." The wolf added. “The longer we wait, the more opportunity we give them to deliver her to Astmoor."

“I know." Erasmus said quietly. He paused, biting his lip. “Have you thought... maybe, we should let them?"

Breeze stared at him as if he couldn't recognise the otter. “What?" He whispered, one eyelid twitching. “Why the fuck would I do that? Especially after everything we just went through? I'm not gonna let them get away with this, they don't get to be fucking rewarded."

“You don't care about the war." Erasmus said, the words tumbling out. “And to be honest neither do I. Not anymore. We were going to give her to the Emperor anyway, it'll all end the same way. We could just leave. I can't fight, and you're not going to be your old self for a while. I miss having her around, but we were always going to give her up at the end of this. And what if we get stuck somewhere again, like in Niverron? What if we get killed?"

“We won't." Breeze said. “I'll be fine. Fenton can shoot them if we get into trouble. In a few more weeks I'll be walking, I don't need to run to swing a sword."

“But why?" Ras pleaded, leaning in. He couldn't understand. Suddenly the duel with Nail seemed so petty and pointless. Again in his mind he saw the red wolf's skull, shattered into wet pieces by Breeze's hammer. “What are you even going to do when we catch them?"

Breeze didn't answer that. “You're right. I don't care about the war. But I care about her..." He looked to Erasmus, ears falling. “And you. Abigail deserves better than to be a bargaining chip for scum like Richeleau."

“And it's better she's one for us?" Erasmus felt anger flare in his chest. “Are you even doing this for her sake? Or just so you can get revenge on them for betraying us?"

“Can't it be both?" Breeze asked firmly. “I said I would do this. I'm... trying... to make the better choice. I don't regret anything we've done, but I don't want to do it all again either. Seeing Nail reminded me of that. Abigail, ending that fucking war, it's a chance to do that. To change things. To break this godsdamned cycle."

“I guess."

“I have to do this. But after." Breeze paused hesitantly. “After this is over. I want to leave. Get away from the Union, from the Northwest, and everything else. I want to have a farm or something, maybe be a fisherman."

“You?" Erasmus asked, stifling a laugh. “You want to fish?"

“Don't laugh." Breeze looked away, almost bashful. “Maybe somewhere in Alavakia, or further, like Scarden, or Wrethalia. Live on the coast, hunt selkies, fish for my own supper."

Erasmus leaned back. “I suppose. Could be nice." He bit his lip. “What's a selkie?"

“Just a... river monster, up in the north." Breeze replied. He paused, and Erasmus felt his fingers dig into his thighs. “I want you to come with me Ras. If... if you want to."

“I would." The otter said immediately. “I would. I don't want to go back to Hieron. I don't want to be a soother anymore." He shuddered, remembering the pain and agony he'd felt from Breeze in his fight against Nail.

“But we finish this first." Breeze said. Erasmus nodded, deflated.

“Yeah. We do this first."

A knock sounded at the door, and the two looked up. Limping on his cane, Solomon shuffled in. A long coat hung about the tiger, his massive paw perched precariously atop his walking stick. He closed the door with a soft click, turning about and regarding the two.

“About time." Breeze hissed.

“Not like you'll be moving very fast soon, is it?" The tiger snapped, taking a seat at the foot of the bed. “How's the leg?"

“I can move my toes." Breeze replied. “Sort of."

“Never seen anythin' like that before. Crowe reneged on his deal, the swine, but I'm a cat of honour, I ain't about to do the same to you two."

“You're smarter than that." Breeze scoffed.

Solomon smiled, the expression fading before it touched his eyes. “Amazing, you can still manage to threaten me, even half-crippled in my own sick bed."

“Just, please." Erasmus said, trying to soothe Breeze's irritation. It was like trying to smother a bubbling vat of acid with a handtowel. “Tell us where Estrion and Richeleau are."

“It took some doing." Solomon said. “I'll admit that, some decent work. I'll cut it to the quick for you, looks like you two have places to be. They aren't in the city."

“What?" Breeze asked, and the tiger put up his paws.

“Ay, you said get you to em. I'll give yous a wagon, and horse. Don't think you'll be walking for a good few weeks yet, Mister Witchborn Crazy-Fuck. They ain't here, but I know where they is."

“Where?" Erasmus asked, leaning in.

“Estrion's half-Alavakian." Solomon said. “Which lends some explanation as to why he's such an insufferable cunt. He's got family out somewhere past that shining capital a'theirs, Nalledurn. A farmstead, my men say, quiet little place, lovely by all accounts. Four weeks' journey at break-neck speed." He regarded Breeze. “Prolly say six for you."

“Six weeks." Erasmus said, crestfallen. He'd hoped to put this nightmare behind them already.

“And how do we know they'll still be there when we arrive?" Breeze asked.

“Well." Solomon began. “The man I tortured said they'd gone there to hide. Men ain't prone to lyin' when they got spikes through their balls. They're plannin' on using the Alavakians to help them barter some sorta deal with Astmoor. Guess they're keen on fleeing into the war, mad bastards. Very strange circumstance."

“And? Do you think they'll stay there?" Breeze pressed, hackles rising on his neck.

“Fuck should I know?" Solomon asked. “Least if they don't, there'll be someone there what knew where they went. I'll give you supplies, a wagon like I said, and send you on your merry way."

Erasmus let his head loll back. “At least it's a start."

“Yeah." Breeze added. “A start."

Solomon sniffed, his brow creasing. “You're bloody welcome mate."

~ X ~

“Miverwak." Claude Morgan said, looming behind the naked husky. “Why don't you tell Lord Estoc here exactly what you told me?"

“That I don't know anything?" Miverwak mewled. His white and grey fur was mottled with blood, the table before him flat and dented, two severed fingers resting on it. Claude leaned in behind the dog.

“Don't. Lie." He hissed. “You've got eight more fingers, ten more toes, a cock, balls, and a tail, all things I can and will take."

“P-please." Miverwak said. “I only c-carried messages."

“You had a report. A big wolf..." Claude began. His gloved paw squeezed Miverwak's shoulder. Roland wanted to be sick.

“He'll keep going." He said, trying to use his eyes to plead with the shaking husky. “I've seen it before young man. You've nothing to hide anymore. Everyone talks."

Claude nodded. “See, Lord Estoc knows it, no doubt your Cleric General Nurjan knows it too. Everyone talks. This is merely a negotiation, about how much of yourself you get to keep before you do. Your treatment, Master Miverwak, is entirely up to you."

“I won't betray the Emperor." Miverwak whimpered. “I had a m-moment of weakness, but I--"

“You're wasting my time." Claude hissed. He glanced to a reptilian Artificer by his side. “Hold his head."

The reptile came forward as Miverwak squealed, but he was restrained, powerless as the big lizard wrapped his scaly fingers around the top and lower halves of the husky's jaw, holding them up and open. A gurgling plea emanated from Miverwak's throat. He thrashed in place, but the bonds held firm.

“No more delays." Claude said, proffering a pair of pliers.

“Claude, wait." Roland said, face hot with shame. Miverwak was barely a grown man, his thighs stained with piss and blood and dirt, the whimpers of fear wet in his throat.

“What?" The snow leopard asked icily, eyes levelling. “You want the honours, my Lord?" And he held the pliers out toward Roland.

“No. No." He replied, looking to his feet. “Go ahead."

Miverwak gave another distorted plea, but Claude only clicked his tongue. “Can't back down now, my apologies." And in a smooth, practiced motion, he reached the pliers into the husky's jaw and clamped them onto one of his fangs. The dog screamed and Claude tore the tooth free with a jerk, letting it plink down on the steel desk. “Give him a moment." He told the Artificer, who let go.

Miverwak's head fell forward and he hissed in pain, straining in his chair, tears running down his face. “Nurjan will kill you both! String you up, and have his Commanders rut your arses!"

“You speak very fine Union Common." Claude muttered. “I find threats are oft the hardest thing to master in a new language. I'm afraid you might find that Lord Estoc and myself enjoy such a rutting a bit too much." He laughed, and Miverwak faltered. Claude put his paws on the bench, leaning close. “Would you, little pup?"

“N-no." The dog replied, quickly cowed. Claude walked around, stopping behind him. He bent over, one paw on Miverwak's neck, firmly pushing his beaten face flat on the desk.

“I don't know. Anything that might make you talk again..." Claude muttered in his ear. The snow leopard's paw trailed down the husky's front. “You might even like it."

“Please." Miverwak whimpered.

“Claude!" Roland hissed. “That's enough." The snow leopard froze, looking up. He released the husky, stepping to one side.

“Never one for any enjoyment in one's work, eh Roland?" He asked, lip curling.

“I'm not going to let you... do that." Roland said. He felt revolted. It was just like the Prince. Prince fucking Halder, telling Roland he had to bend over and like it. Roland blanched as his stomach trembled.

How could I ever think I loved you? He thought, glaring daggers at Claude.

He stepped up to the desk, pulling the chair back and sitting down opposite Miverwak.

“Young man, look at me." He said calmly, the husky's frightened eyes meeting his. “You already told Inquisitor Morgan the beginning, this is just his show. Talk. Everyone does, I promise you. There's no shame in it, you've been afforded no other option. If you don't, he is in charge here. I can't stop him from hurting you."

Miverwak looked between them, a sullen look to his eyes, tongue tracing over the hole where his tooth had been.

“There was a report of a wolf. He was... seen by some of our scouts during the initial strike on the city." He said slowly. “He killed six of our men as he was escaping the city. The one he left alive said there was an otter, some kind of dog, and a fox with them."

“And a pup?" Roland asked, leaning in. “Was there a pup?"

“Yes." Miverwak said. Sniffling. “Yes there was."

“They're alive." Roland said. There was no guarantee they'd made it through the Lyskirk blockade, but that was a hell of a lot easier to do than getting out of a city under siege. “Thank the Triumvirate."

“There's more I want to hear." Claude said, coming forward. “There's a traitor in our midst. Someone feeding intelligence out to Astmoor, and more specifically, Nurjan."

“I already to--" Miverwak began, and Claude smacked him in the side of the head.

“Answer my fucking questions. I ask what I ask, you answer!" Claude leered, baring his teeth. “Don't ask your own."

“Who is the traitor?" Roland asked, interest piquing. He wished Claude was less theatrical, surely this could have been made a report?

“I don't know for certain." Miverwak said. “Nurjan kept many secrets. He's a brilliant leader, that's why he'll win this war."

“Was there a name you heard? Something unfamiliar? Anything?" Roland asked, getting closer. He had to fight the urge to purr, he was so excited at the prospect of finally learning their traitor's identity. Baine and Audric could shut their mouths about him, they could stop all the whispers and secrets.

Miverwak looked at the desk, at his removed tooth. “Salem. That's a name I was told."

Roland felt his stomach drop out. “No." He said instantly. His mouth was dry. He couldn't taste anything. “That's wrong."

“Salem D'Lange." Miverwak said, not looking up. “That's all."

Roland couldn't think. His face was hot. He stood up, chair legs screeching as the seat skidded back. He was dizzy. He had to protect Salem, he'd never do something like that. The room was too hot, too dark. He stumbled from the cell, out into the hall, putting one paw on the wall and doubling over. He retched, bile coming up his throat and spraying onto the bricks.

Behind him, the door clicked shut.

“I'm sorry." Claude said. “I thought you should hear it yourself."

Roland wiped the sick from his lips, straightening up. “It isn't true. It's a trick. A fucking lie."

“It's true." Claude said.

Roland whirled, seizing him by the lapels and slamming him into the interrogation room door. “You don't know him! Not like I do!"

“Roland." Claude said, gently putting a gloved paw on the cat's forearm. “Let me go. I'm afraid I do."

Roland let go, stepping away, running a paw through his fur. “I don't even tell Salem half the things I know. There's no way he'd even know enough to..."

“We both know that isn't true." Claude replied. “You tell him everything. You always do to the ones you fuck. Even if you didn't, don't you think he could take a look when you've passed out drunk? He's been hiding in your shadow."

“You're a cunt." Roland snarled, turning back. “This isn't true. I don't know why Miverwak would say that." Guilt was crushing him. Too much. He imagined his paws around Salem's throat again. He had to make it right. Salem wasn't the traitor; Roland knew it for sure.

I'll have to keep Claude off our backs, leave for the Northwest as soon as possible, take him with me. He thought. Prince Halder was sending him to the Madlands to negotiate the deal with this 'Slaugh Morningbreaker'. The Court knew the broad idea but no one but Roland and Halder had the specifics. He'll be out of Claude's clutches then. Maybe Morningbreaker can protect him, hide him, until I clear his name.

“Let me talk to him first." Roland said, holding a paw up. “Give me a chance to ask him about it, at least. Maybe we could turn him back, if it is true." He waited. “Which it isn't."

“I already did." Claude replied softly. His ears were fallen. “I'm very sorry." And he turned on the spot, walking to the end of the hall. Roland followed.

“Claude. What do you mean?" He watched as the snow leopard undid the door latch. “He better not be fucking in there. I swear Claude, I will kill you if he's in there. Don't you dare open that fucking door."

“I wish this hadn't happened." Claude replied, letting the door swing in. Roland gasped, stepping through.

Salem was tied to a chair in the centre of the dark room, stripped naked. He squinted as the light from the hall burst across his face, breaking the darkness of the cell. His lip was swollen, and he had some minor cuts across his chest.

“Salem, no." Roland said, rushing over and going to one knee before him. He put his hands on Salem's wrists, squeezed his arms. “I'm so sorry, I'm going to fix this."

“Roland...?" The young fox whimpered. “I... I didn't..."

“I know, I know." Roland replied. He had to fix this. Had to save him. This couldn't be true. He loved Salem. Salem loved him. He wouldn't sell him out. Fantine had been right, they would come after him, they already had.

Of course. Roland realised, like a bolt of lightning striking his brain. Baine. Audric. They'd always hated Salem, and they despised Roland even more. Two outsiders to their precious racial oligarchy.

“Claude, we're being set up." He said, looking up. The snow leopard was standing to one side, a gaunt expression on his face. “This is some ploy by Baine. Salem isn't a traitor, he'd never. What does he have to gain?"

Those bastards. Roland thought. I will see them hang for this. I swear it, on my life, they'll hang.

“Roland." Claude said softly. “I know you don't want to believe it."

“Because it isn't true!" Roland bellowed, still on his knees. “It isn't fucking true! Look, ask Fantine, she'll tell you. It's Baine and Audric, I'll prove it. I'll fucking prove it."

“Please..." Salem mumbled.

“I'll prove it Salem, I swear." Roland said, squeezing the fox's knees, tears pricking in his eyes. “I just need some time."

“You don't have some time." Claude said. “The High Chaplain wants this traitor business ended."

“Fuck the High Chaplain!" Roland snarled. “I was the piece of shit he used to take control of this damn war, and he's the reason Baine hates me so much! He can damn well wait! I am telling you Claude, this is all untrue. We're being used." To Salem, he said. “I love you. I won't let them do this."

Claude paused, looking down. His face was wrinkled, nearly unreadable.

Salem looked up at him, then back to Roland. “Will..."

“I don't want to hurt you." The snow leopard said, venom in his tone.

Roland bristled. “Claude, just stop. You can hold him here until I get this sorted out, alright? But this isn't him. He didn't betray us."

Salem glanced to Claude, faltered. “But I... did."

Roland couldn't speak. Couldn't think. He stared at the fox. His stomach turned over, his hackles went up. His whole body was cold, but his flesh burning hot. He felt the anger and confusion rush through him like a drowning flood.

But it doesn't make sense. He thought.

“No." He said. “No, no-no-no-no-no. Don't say that. Why the fuck would you say that? Why? Why would you fucking say that?!" He shook the chair. “Salem, I am going to get you out of here! I am going to clear your name! I told you I'd protect you. I promised, I'm going to make it right, to fix it, I have to!"

“Roland." Claude said, stepping even closer. Roland couldn't even look at him. “No, you're not."

What? Roland looked up in time to see Claude tug Salem's head back.

“No!" He cried, frozen in place.

“But, you--" Salem began, legs kicking. Claude buried a knife in his throat, his arm jerking as he sawed it across, opening it up. Salem gurgled, gore haemorrhaging down his front. Spit and blood sprayed out from his lips, splashing onto Roland's white fur. His eyes were wide, mouth silently saying his last pleas.

“No." Roland said, standing, legs shaking. He took a step back, covered his mouth. Unable to keep watching, but unable to look away. Salem twitched, his fur stained, his eyes wide and bulging. “Why?"

“He confessed." Claude said, throwing the blade to the ground in disgust. “There was more before, but I... didn't want to put you through hearing all of that. At least this way he can't be tortured anymore."

Roland shook his head. “Claude, why would you do that?"

“To spare him. And to spare you." The snow leopard muttered. “I told you. Wrast wants this matter done."

Salem had stopped moving now, his head lolling back, the two flaps of sliced flesh in his throat hanging flaccid.

I... have to make this right. Roland thought.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard Claude again.

You can't.

The End of Part Two