she said, deciding it best to leave out the fact that her head was now a very lonely place.
“Do not look so pleased,” said Vengeous. “Having a psychic prod his way through your thoughts may not be a pleasant experience, but luckily for us we still have physical torture. So do yourself a kindness. Before the interrogation begins, tell us what you did with the Teleporter, and maybe your suffering will be lessened.”
She frowned. “Who? Oh, you mean that Remit guy with the twirly moustache? Yeah, I did nothing to him. I left him on a rooftop somewhere.”
“Who has him?”
“Not me. Maybe he ran away. Maybe he wasn’t happy. He did have a silly moustache, after all. That’s usually a sign of some deeper unhappiness. Where’s your moustache, by the way? Where’s your whole beard gone? Why’d you shave it off?”
“Ah,” he murmured. “You’re one of those, are you?”
“One of who?”
“The kind who talk and joke when they’re shackled. I’ve met a few of you. Your jokes are usually there to hide your fear, and it’s always a good indicator that you will break easily, and quickly.”
“Or,” she said, “it might be a sign that I’m totally fearless and I laugh in the face of torture. I mean, it’s not, but it could be.”
He led her away from the main thoroughfare, to where the streets were slightly narrower. Still clean, still well-maintained, but a little less sunny and a lot less populated.
Valkyrie looked at him. “Can I ask you a question? I know this isn’t how interrogations usually go, but since it hasn’t officially started yet I thought I’d shake things up. What happened to you, Baron? I mean, is this what you do now? You transport prisoners? You used to be a general.”
“I still am.”
“No, you’re a prison guard.”
“I do what is needed. In times of war, it is a general’s duty to win that war. In times of peace, it is a general’s duty to preserve that peace.”
“You call this peace? The people are terrified.”
“Are you referring to the mortals? Of course they’re terrified. Terror keeps them down. A terrified people is a peaceful people.”
“Peace means nothing without freedom.”
“Then peace means nothing. I’m sorry, were you hoping for a debate on the subject? You’re a prisoner, and soon you’ll be a prisoner in pain. We’re not going to debate, or argue. You’re no one. You’re just another mortal sympathiser. Soon enough all your secrets will come spilling out.”
They passed through a tunnel that blocked out the sunlight. A bald woman approached from the other side, her hands shackled. “Husband,” she said, and Vengeous muttered something under his breath. Valkyrie raised an eyebrow as the woman neared. Vengeous’s wife wore a grey shapeless dress made of sackcloth and her bare feet were chained at the ankles, forcing her to take small, quick steps. There was a small piece of wood hanging from a cord around her neck, into which were carved the two circles. With her hair shaved off and not one trace of make-up on her pale, drawn face, it took Valkyrie a moment to recognise her as Eliza Scorn.
“They were at it again last night,” she said, not even glancing at Valkyrie. “Graffiti on the cathedral door. Scrawled obscenities and crude pictures. They need to be stopped. You have to stop them.”
Her voice rose as she spoke, became shriller, echoing around the tunnel. Vengeous held up his hands in a comforting gesture, but stopped just short of touching her.
“I’ve alerted the City Mages,” he said. “They’re increasing their patrols in the area. Now please, I’m with a prisoner and cannot—”
Scorn shook her head. “Not good enough. These blasphemers need to be hunted down. You need to send your Diablerie after them.”
“My love, the Diablerie have their duties—”
Fury twisted Scorn’s face. “Someone is defiling the cathedral!” she screeched. “When they defile the cathedral, they defile us all! Are you going to do nothing while your own wife is defiled?”
For some bizarre reason, Valkyrie felt the need to look away to spare Vengeous the embarrassment of arguing with his clearly insane wife in front of a prisoner. Then she remembered that she was a prisoner, and so any awkwardness fell away.
“No one is defiling you,” Vengeous said, keeping his voice down. “These are troublemakers and miscreants and they will be caught and punished.”
“Miscreants?” Scorn repeated incredulously. “These are terrorists! They are openly blaspheming against the Faceless Ones and if you don’t put a stop to it, this will spread. Do you hear me? It will spread.”
Vengeous nodded. “I’ll triple the guard.”
“You need to hunt them down!”
“And I will do so. They will not escape our justice.”
Scorn’s hands rose to the wood around her neck. “You should question those in the dungeons. They know. They know who’s doing this. That girl. Who is she?”
“We don’t know yet. She’s working with the Resistance.”
Scorn whispered, but even so Valkyrie could still hear her words. “Question her. Pull her fingernails off. Cut out her eyelids. She knows who is doing this.”
“Hi, Eliza,” Valkyrie said.
Scorn stiffened, turned away, and Vengeous glared.
“Do not speak to my wife,” he snarled.
Valkyrie ignored him. “Why the shackles, Eliza? Have you lost it so completely that you can’t be trusted?”
Vengeous stormed over and Valkyrie forced herself not to flinch. “My wife wears those chains in penance for us all, to show the Faceless Ones that we are ready to be punished for what was done to them. She is a true believer. Her soul is righteous and pure, unlike yours.”
“Diseased,” Scorn muttered.
Valkyrie raised an eyebrow. “Sorry?”
“Diseased!” Scorn shouted, her eyes on the cobbled ground. “Your soul is diseased! Rotten! Putrefying!”
“That’s a nice sack you’re wearing.”
“Stop her from talking to me!”
Vengeous shoved Valkyrie against the wall, his hand tight around her windpipe.
Scorn covered her face with her arms. “Stop her from looking at me! Stop her!”
Strong fingers dug into Valkyrie’s cheek and pushed her head around until she was facing the other way. She heard Scorn’s quick footsteps and the clinking of chains as she neared.
“Hurt her,” Scorn said, fury biting at her words. “Kill her. Tear her face off. Rip her tongue out. Take her eyes.”
“Mevolent wants to speak with her,” Vengeous said.
“He can speak with her corpse. He can speak with her carcass. He can speak with her rotting meat, when her head is on a pike. He can speak with her then.”
“He is waiting, my wife.”
“Let him wait! This wretch of a girl gazed upon my face! She spoke to me, spiteful words! The Faceless Ones demand her suffering!”
“If that is so, then Mevolent will surely instruct me. Is he not the voice of the Faceless Ones on this earth?”
All Valkyrie could hear in response was Scorn’s rapid breathing.
“Go back to your prayers,” Vengeous said. “When I have delivered this wretch to Mevolent, I will return to you with the Commander of the City Mages.