Chapter 1003: Asking Questions

Now that Loman Lothian had been dealt with, Sybyll wasted little time in collecting Ian Hanrahan and his son. Both men had watched in silent horror as Sybyll’s court sat in judgment of the influential Lothian Lord. The sight of her brutally disfiguring him and tearing his arm from his body replayed in their minds over and over again as she bodily dragged Ian Hanrahan down multiple flights of stone steps in what had once been his own keep until she reached the narrow row of cells that comprised the castle’s dungeon.

Torches burned brightly in the damp, cramped space, but they did little to repel the chill in the air, as if no amount of fire could ever bring real warmth to such a dreadful place. Still, the soldiers of the Second Army knew their craft, and they’d made careful preparations at Sybyll’s orders while she dealt with Loman Lothian, and now, Sybyll had everything she needed to conclude her ’reunion’ with her cousin, Ian.

"Cossot," Sybyll said, startling the young woman who was seeing the cramped, stone-walled cells of a dungeon for the first time in her life. "I have many questions fer me cousin," she said as she hurled Ian bodily into one of the cells. "Ye can read an’ write, can’t ye?"

"Of-of course I can," Cossot said, immediately grasping what Dame Sybyll wanted when she spotted a pair of scholar’s lap desks sitting to one side, along with small wooden chairs. "You want me to write out his answers to your questions?"

"Exactly," Sybyll said with a predatory grin. "But first, we need ta’ settle this one," she said as she took hold of Bastian’s tunic and dragged him into the cell across the narrow aisle from the one where she’d dumped Ian. "Listen closely, little cousin," Sybyll purred as she tore away the iron shackles binding his wrists before securing him to the chains that hung from the dungeon wall.

"Yer going ta’ do as ye promised, an’ list out all of yer father’s crimes fer Roseen ta’ write down," she said, gesturing to the other young woman. "I’ll be checkin’ in, from time ta’ time, ta’ ask yer miserable excuse fer a father about tha’ things ye list out. If I find yer lyin’, tryin’ ta pass tha blame fer yer own wrongs on ta’ him, or inventin’ stories... Yer a smart enough lad ta’ know what will happen ta’ ye, aren’t ye?"

"Y-yes, c-cousin," Bastian stammered, pressing himself up against the dungeon wall as hard as he could to get even an extra inch or two of distance away from his blood-splattered cousin. He’d already made up his mind when she questioned him in the snow outside of town that he would tell her anything she asked.

He’d used every one of his father’s shameful secrets that he could think of as a desperate offering to stave off the kind of fate that awaited his father and thus far, it seemed to be working. But now that he was here, bound in iron in his family’s dungeons, he couldn’t help but ask the greatest question on his mind.

"And, a-after that? I can go free?" the young lord asked.

"Free is relative, cousin," Sybyll said as she watched Roseen setting up the small writing desk in the cramped cell. "Ye can’a live in Hanrahan ever again. I’ve no desire ta’ see yer face here an’ even less desire ta’ let ye stir up trouble in me home. But how ye live in exile depends on how well ye cooperate wit’ little Roseen here. I could throw ye in a cell in tha’ Vale of Mists where ye’d never see tha’ light of day again," she offered sweetly.

"Or, I could find a nice village wit’ tha’ Horned Clan an’ give ye a hut an’ a plot of land ta live out yer days on," she continued, stepping close to the young lord and tracing a finger along the stubble-covered line of his jaw. "Or perhaps somethin’ even better," she added. "Prove yer worth, little cousin, an’ I won’a do ye wrong."

"Roseen," Sybyll said, startling the young woman with the suddenness of her movements as she appeared by her side in the blink of an eye, leaning in close enough to whisper into her ear. "This is part of yer test t’night," she said.

"Cossot won’a fail me. I see steel in her," the vampire whispered in Roseen’s ear. "If ye want ta’ stay by her side, ye’d best do well here. If he lies ta ye, if ye even suspect he’s bein’ less than honest, just cry out fer me ta’ set him straight an’ I’ll come right over," she promised with a smile that revealed the full length of her sharp, gleaming fangs. "Do ye understand?"

"I do," Roseen said firmly, clutching to the smooth, polished wood of the writing desk and biting her lip when she looked over her shoulder at Cossot who was making similar preparations in the cell across the way. "I won’t fail you," she promised.

"Ye can fail me," Sybyll said with a light, musical laugh. "Just don’a fail yerself or Cossot. I’m already giving ye a chance t’night because of her. I’d hate ta’ see ye waste it."

Before Roseen could think of how she should respond to the vampire’s strange statement, Sybyll was gone, standing in the cell that contained Ian Hanrahan’s trembling figure along with Cossot, who had pressed herself into a corner of the cramped cell in order to give Dame Sybyll as much room as she could.

"Now, Ian, it’s yer turn," Sybyll said as she hauled the portly man to his feet and tore the gag from his mouth. "Do ye have any last words b’fore we begin?"

"What would be the point?" Ian spat as he raised his shackled hands to massage his jaw. "You’re going to kill me no matter what. Just get it over with. I’m sure my ’loyal’ sons can tell you everything you want to know. You don’t need to bother with me."

"Oh, it’s no bother," Sybyll said as she lashed out with one foot, stomping with her heel on the top of Ian’s right foot hard enough to shatter bone with a sickening, grinding -CRUNCH- that was unnaturally loud in the small, confined space of the dungeon cell.

"Aaarrrgghhhhh!" Ian groaned as his face went instantly pale, with sweat beading on his brow. Were it not for Sybyll roughly grabbing hold of his tunic, he would have dropped to the ground in agony as she twisted her foot on top of his, grinding shards of bone into his flesh.

"Me mother had ta’ flee from this very keep wit’ a broken leg ta’ escape yer father," Sybyll hissed as she leaned close enough to the sweating man’s face that only a few strands of hair separated her lips from his ear. "I’ll give ye a chance ta’ run from me. All ye have ta do is make it ta’ tha’ first step of tha’ stairs, an I’ll put an end ta’ this. Ye can have a nice, quick death," she promised.

"Or, ye can tell me tha’ names of all the women ye wronged," she said as she stepped back away from him, dropping him onto the hard stone floor and taking her foot off of his, giving him plenty of space to run for the door if he wished to. "I figure tha’ first one must’a been b’fore we even met," she said with a voice that dripped with scorn. "So why don’t ye tell me, what was her name? And what did ye do ta’ hide away yer crime of forcin’ yerself on her?"