I was worried about being murdered, but I found that the idea of torture didn't concern me too much. I'd already discovered I could detach myself from the pain, and I was now in a world where virtually any physical trauma could be reversed. The only thing that would be totally catastrophic would be if they cut off my foot, since that Dumine had some fairly important shit going on - if I recalled correctly even that could be re-attached, but the timeline mattered and I didn't think there was much chance I'd be rushed to an urgent care.

Pogue, the one Hugh had brutalized into unconsciousness early in the battle, nearly made me laugh when he tried to be intimidating. It wasn't his fault, he presumably hadn't seen Earth entertainment, but he was just super cliched. He rolled out a leather bundle filled with tools and looked at me like I should be scared, then got annoyed when I reminded him I was still on the floor.

"I can't see your toys, Pogue. I can guess what they look like, and if you want to hold them up I'll make scared faces, but there's no way I can see the top of the table from down here."

He did, in fact, decide to put me on a chair and scoot me closer to the table - he tied me in place, and while he pulled the pants off my legs he wasn't in a position to spot the extra Dumine. I kept having to slip back into my memory palace to escape the blinding agony, but I kept my eyes open so they wouldn't think I was passing out. I only really needed it when they were moving me. When the actual interrogation started I'd be able to spend a little mana to watch from outside myself, but I didn't want to burn it all before then. Getting in past that thick feeling caused by the device on my Dumine was already getting easier.

Pogue moved my things to another smaller table, not that I would have been able to grab any of it anyway, and then he did the whole stereotypical song and dance where he picked up each needlessly sinister tool and caressed it while staring at me.

"Yeah, very nice. Is that for cleaning your toenails, or...?"

He wasn't amused.

"Okay, sorry. But... listen, you don't need to torture me. I already said I would tell you everything. Just untie me, I'll join your side. Cutting off my thumbs is only going to make me want to take this shit to my grave, and that doesn't help anyone."

He shot me a look of pity or something close to it, and put the toenail cleaner-looking thing back down. "You don't get it, do you? We're not going to believe you. Your brain has been fucked with, bad enough that people can't even look at your memories with a lock on your Dumine. You're damaged beyond repair. We know you were telling the truth before, but with a mind as twisted around as yours? The truth is whatever they planted in you. So far as we know, this whole defection was part of some plan."

"Okay? Wait, then why torture me at all?"

"You want us to be buddies, to let you dole out information slowly so we'll keep you alive. The torture is to get it all at once so we can confirm it if at all possible, and then dispose of you. It's about getting this over with. Ripping it out of your head would have been better, but second best is getting enough out of you with torture to check with the information brokers."

"Huh. So... I'm dead either way and my best bet is to get revenge by keeping my mouth shut so you don't get anything out of this?"

"You can certainly try, but it's hard to keep your mouth shut without lips."

"Well that's just going to make it hard for you to understand me. What, are you going to threaten to pull my tongue out next? You're super bad at this."

Despite my snark I was, actually, starting to feel a little nervous about the whole situation. I was going to have to tell them something, clearly, and I needed to decide what. Not the truth obviously, and it needed to be something urgent - more urgent than Hammersmith busting into their secret base - but also something they needed me alive for. It was a tall order under the best of circumstances, and I didn't know enough about politics or world history or anything else to come up with a convincing lie... especially one that would stand up to scrutiny from whatever fact checkers they had on speed dial.

The torture started, and things got a little hazy. I held out as long as I could before ducking into the memory palace, both to pace myself and to make sure my show of pain was genuine - if they were going to believe me even enough to give me a break while fact checking I couldn't sit there calmly while they jabbed me. The issue was that I underestimated just how traumatic it would be, and so once I'd formulated a plan and tried to pop back into the real world to "accidentally" let the information slip I found that I couldn't do it.

It was like the first time I jumped off the high dive at the public pool. I knew, logically, that this was a thing I wanted to do - but my body just kept stopping me at the edge. Nope, sorry, overruled. It was infuriating, fighting with myself like that. I finally decided that I'd have to risk remote controlling myself like I'd been practicing, though I wasn't sure if it would look right. I turned divination on and stepped into room zero, then immediately flinched at what I saw. I was a bloody mess. Worse, with my hair drenched in sweat and my head hanging down against my chest the Dumine on the back of my head was just barely peeking out - just a sliver, but enough that anyone walking behind me would take a closer look.

I forced myself to lift my head, but I was having trouble. I was tired, and in pain even in the memory palace, and starting to panic - so it looked like some janky marionette when I moved and I wasn't looking in the right direction. It was like my body didn't want to listen to me. I knew I would need to step back in, but I was still stopping myself so I made one last attempt to speak from within the memory palace.

My body's mouth opened, but all that came out was the pathetic wail of a wounded animal. Cool. Pogue had stopped working, and came over to look in my eyes. I thought about trying to headbutt him but doubted I'd be able to score a good hit and anyway it wouldn't improve my situation - best to wait in case there was a real chance of escape. He stepped back, seemed to be considering something, and then sighed and dug a healing potion out of his bag. Oh, jackpot.

Obviously I knew he was only going to heal me so he could torture me more, but it meant that if I somehow managed to get free - or even if I just got a reprieve from the torture - I'd be theoretically capable of running the hell away. I watched as he poured the thick liquid down my throat - he had to hold my mouth shut to make me swallow - and instantly I could see the healing take hold. All the wounds he'd inflicted closed up, and the swollen purple mess of my legs started to look like... okay, still a mess, but a mess that could potentially support my weight. I had no illusions about how healed I was, I'd clearly need to see a professional to get the bones in my legs properly repaired, but hobbling with a limp was better than crawling.

It was the perfect time to start spilling my guts. It was plausible that I would want to do anything in my power to keep from starting the torture again - hell, it was true - and if he gave me a break while they fact checked I'd have time to plan some more. I popped back into my body and found out very quickly that I was still in a lot of pain - from what I understood healing potions somehow prioritized vital organs, then open wounds, then bones, and then miscellaneous tissue. That meant I was still ridiculously sore and even had some minor internal bleeding probably, plus as with most healing it made me feel exhausted.

"No more," I said, and internally cringed at how much I meant it. "It's another gate. An old way in."

"A way in where?" he asked, and idly played with a corkscrew-looking thing.

"To Brynnklar. Hammersmith isn't coming in the way you think she is. She wanted you to know she was coming so you would be guarding the wrong place while she sneaks in the back way."

It was a simple enough lie. I'd asked myself what they could care about more than Hammersmith busting in - which was, after all, the reason they wanted to kill me - and the clear answer was "the same thing but worse". Mainly I'd been inspired by our trip to the forgotten Duminere, and so I'd decided to weave that in there too. While I was at it I also mixed in some of the names of places and people I knew from the Jake Ross books, in case that lent any authenticity.

I already knew entry to Brynnklar required going through specific portals, so the story was essentially that there was a secret entrance that had been constructed by the very powerful and mysterious people that first populated Brynnklar - they were supposed to have made all sorts of crazy shit, so that was plausible. Then it was hidden for emergency use, then forgotten about, then found by the evil wizard Tantek, or Thanatos if you were reading the Jake Ross books. In Jake Ross and the Shattered Crown he'd discovered a secret maze beneath the monastery Thanatos had been using as his base, and if that was real and as impossible to navigate as it was in the books it seemed like a good place to send them.

If it wasn't real, well, I would have to hope they couldn't determine that right away.

By way of proof, I told them that while researching to find a way in the team had discovered two other forgotten rooms - the secret vault with the lost Duminere, and a laboratory in Markonti. That last one was made up, but I felt like it made the whole thing a little more believable to throw a less valuable one in there.

"I know about it because we needed to let Erathik know about the Duminere as part of a deal with them, but we also wanted you to have an excuse to follow Calliope Smith - or who you thought was Calliope Smith - all over the continent to waste your time. I wasn't supposed to know about the back way into Brynnklar or even the worthless lab in Markonti but someone had a bit of a crush on me and after we... said goodbye... he was talkative."

After that it was just a frantic flood of reasons why they should keep me alive - I still knew important people, I could take the place of one of the other three people pretending to be Calliope Smith, I could point out the real Calliope Smith in a crowd, since she had of course completely changed her appearance - I was proud of that one - and finally I swore up and down that I could guide them through Nusos to the staging area for the attack.

Pogue dragged me off to a corner and faced me against the wall, then stomped upstairs for a moment. I considered that a massive success. At a minimum it seemed like it had been enough for them to talk about, which meant it was probably enough for them to send off to these information broker people about, which meant I had bought time. How much? I wasn't sure. I ducked into the memory palace and called the only person I could.

"It is exhausting, how you refuse to die," she said, leaning against the wall and frowning. "You convince me to send the Behemoth off somewhere, that fails, I get my hopes up again, but no. Over and over this has happened."

"I know. Sorry. I'll try harder to die next time, but for now... can you help? I swear I'm working on severing this tie."

"I've told you, the dying will cut that link just fine."

"Yes. Sure. But there are other kids out there."

"I... fuck you. Damn it. Fine, fine, shit. Fuck."

"Thank you."

"Too soon for thanks, I am nowhere near you. I can... try to send a message, or... I don't know."

"You teleported me here from another world, can you just... zap me out of here?"

"No. That took months of preparation and was performed at a site of great magical power with fourteen planes aligned. Today, there are three. There will be eight in a few days, but even that would not be nearly enough."

"Okay but I'm not on another world this time. Right?"

"True. Still, teleportation is difficult, dangerous."

"Okay I know this isn't the time but why the fuck did you try it then? Couldn't you have just blown me up?"

She sighed. "No. It's... complicated. I will let your friends know you are alive."

I used divination to spy upstairs, though I realized too late I should have done that first. I missed whatever instructions the Behemoth had given, but I heard Rigela say he'd be back 'by lunch tomorrow' before he headed out the door, so it seemed they were sending him out to check on my story - I'd assumed they would call it in from where they were, clearly they had communication of some sort since they'd used it to talk to the wild mage. But whatever the reason I was glad for it, since it meant I had a little time.

I drifted off. I was so exhausted that even tied to a chair there was no way I could keep my eyes open. Since I wasn't in the memory palace I had dreams, most of which were fleeting. The last one I had before waking up started in Bill's basement which was somehow also part of the labyrinthine catacombs under Thanatos' lair. Bill was there, sipping a milkshake, and I grabbed a decorative spoon off the wall so I could snitch some.

"I'd have gone with Ohio," he said, and I noticed they were each from a different state.

"Oh. I grabbed New Jersey, it's where I'm from."

"Well kiddo, we both know that's not true."

"Well not... originally."

"Hey, it's fine. Bit of a mess from a legal standpoint though, just think of the paperwork. I've been taking care of the wrong kid. Probably for the best that the adoption didn't pan out, eh?"

I took a bite of the milkshake, and realized we were in that little 50's style diner that Bill had taken me to after the failed foster placement - right before he quit.

"I tried to set you up in a nice place and you wouldn't even go inside," he said, though the real Bill never had that accusing tone to him. He'd just told me everything was okay, that I shouldn't worry about it. The dream version looked annoyed, or betrayed.

"It's not my fault. I think they must have had a horseshoe over the door."

"Well I'd forgive you if it was up to me, but the waiter is pretty pissed."

Bill gestured at the waiter, whose face I couldn't make out. I just sensed that he hated me, and as I watched he walked slowly closer, this menacing force of nature. The walls began to shake and tear away, revealing something else hidden behind them that I didn't get a good look at through the smoke that began to swirl around him. I tried to run but I was tied to the chair, and he reached over and grabbed the milkshake, forcing me to drink. It was warm, like that tentacle juice Errod saved me from in Nusos. I could hear Errod telling me to drink it, but I tried to fight anyway, but then... I woke up.

Errod was force-feeding me a healing potion.

"There you are! Keep quiet, keep quiet. I'm here to rescue you. It's going to be okay. Maybe. Hopefully."

I stood, shaking, embarrassed because at some point during this whole ordeal I'd soiled myself, and surveyed the room. Pogue was on the floor, dead. The tiny window up by the ceiling was open, and Errod's boot was stuck in it.

"You lost your boot."

"I know, it was not my most elegant entrance. The Behemoth and that flying one are upstairs, we were searching for you and I got separated from the others and saw him flying back so I followed." He helped me over to the table, and I began grabbing my gear. "I should have told Katrin or Hugh where I was going, but if I'd gone back I would have lost track of him so it's just me. But then I almost ran right into them, and the only place to hide was the basement window, and I almost landed on that guy, and... it's been bad."

So the Behemoth and Rigela were upstairs, and reinforcements were nearby but didn't know our location. I pulled on pants and my jacket, threw the rest into a bag except for a knife. Errod helped me, and looked sad when he held up the device from Mister Creepy.

"Oh. Sorry about your spider thing."

"It's fine. It wasn't really a pet or anything."

"Still. We'll find you a new one."

We stood under the window and looked up while Errod picked the last few bits of spider off the device, and tried to determine if anyone was close enough to see if we were to climb out. At a minimum it seemed like we should take the boot out, but any movement in the window at all could get us noticed.

Of course it turned out I didn't need to worry about that, since the Behemoth chose that moment to come down the stairs. He was clapping slowly, sarcastically, and as we stepped back and readied ourselves to fight he laughed.

"Oh, this is rich. A rescue attempt? How charming. And how do you think it's going so far? I owe you a beating, boy. You turned a clear victory into a strategic retreat, which meant I couldn't recover our communication charms. That's been very inconvenient. You should feel proud of that, but probably not for this. This is a disaster. Look at you, fumbling around. You've lost your boot. And your friend here is limping, I'd bet she can't run worth a damn. How far do you think you'd get through these woods? Because I don't even think you can make the window."

"Any plans?" Errod whispered to me, and I shook my head. The Behemoth healed too quickly, even if he didn't have room to get to full size in the basement it didn't matter. Errod could stab him all day and do nothing.

"We can stall," I whispered back, "I think he likes to play with his food."

"No good, not unless I can get a signal to the others."

The Behemoth clapped, startling me. "Are we quite done whispering? There's only one thing to discuss, kids. Who will I kill first?"

Errod took a deep breath, and stepped forward. "I challenge you to a duel."

The Behemoth stifled a laugh, then nodded. "Oh, of course. Of course. First one to tear off the other's arms wins?"

"I can defeat you with one arm tied behind my back," Errod said. He put tossed the spider end of the Mister Creepy device down on the table and grabbed a leather strap from the torture tools, then tied it tightly around his left wrist, folding the cuff of his magic glove up and out of the way.

"Oh, it's a stunt thing? Or is this some sort of trick where you're going to... do something with that leather strap?"

"No," Errod said, but his voice was shaking. I had no idea what he had planned. "I just want to make it a fair fight. Is one hand not good enough? Fine. I'll skip the sword as well."

Errod tossed his sword aside. His wrist was turning purple around the strap, and I couldn't imagine that was part of the plan. Was he just stalling for time? It didn't seem like the Behemoth's amusement would buy us much. Sooner or later he would crush Errod's skull, and now the poor fool didn't even have a sword.

"Here, I'll use this instead," he said, picking up a cleaver-like knife from the torture implements. "Less reach, worse balance. Do you think it's a fair fight now?"

The Behemoth raised an eyebrow. "I don't know what the joke is, but I'm bored by it. Let's get this over with."

"Fine," Errod said, and in a flash he slammed the cleaver down on his own wrist. I recoiled, stunned, and saw that the Behemoth was wide-eyed and slack jawed. I was avoiding looking at the Errod's hands - or what was left of them - but I saw that he had dropped the cleaver in favor of his severed hand, thumped it down on the table stump-first, and then threw it at the window. Errod's left hand thumped into the windowsill and then, much to my amazement, it scrambled for purchase and scurried out into the woods.

I was staring in absolute shock, and I guess the Behemoth must have been surprised too because he didn't see Errod lunging at him with the corkscrew-looking thing until it was too late. He howled, eye absolutely ruined, and flung Errod across the room. I kicked his sword to him and threw my knife at the Behemoth, who was already moving to cut off our access to the window. He yanked the corkscrew thing out then pulled the knife free, but we were already switching directions and darting for the stairs. I made it about four steps up before the Behemoth grabbed the supports and yanked the whole wooden staircase out from under me, trapping all of us in the basement for the moment.

"Going to need another potion," Errod muttered, and I saw that despite his makeshift tourniquet he was bleeding pretty badly. Of course he was. What the fuck had just happened? How was his hand... and then I saw the strap on his arm, and glanced at the table. He was wearing the dock for Mister Creepy, and the spider side - which he'd casually tossed down on the table - was gone. That crazy son of a bitch. It didn't explain everything, but it meant that as long as Errod stayed alive the severed hand would too.

The Behemoth was now holding a very large wooden post that had previously been a very important structural part of the stairs to the ground floor. His eye was healed but looked a little wrong, and I remembered that the red lightning guy hadn't had his eyes properly fixed by the potion. Still, the Behemoth's healing was far more powerful and any lingering issues probably would resolve themselves within moments.

He batted at us, a bit awkwardly given the tight confines but it wasn't like those conditions were any better for us - Errod jumped backwards and I was forced to drop to the ground, at which point that huge post slammed down and nearly crushed my skull as I rolled to the side. Errod ran in and stabbed, but the Behemoth just leaned into it and then punched Errod in the chest, sending him down in a heap.

"Well," the Behemoth said as he pulled the sword free and tossed it aside, "I don't know what the fuck that was but people are going to be buying me drinks to hear about it for the rest of my life." He kicked Errod, hard, but there was no response - I was sure he wasn't dead, but he wasn't getting back up either. "After I kill your little buddy here, what do I do with you? Your story checks out, the parts we can look up. But I'm still not sure I believe you. Feels like a trap."

"It's not! I can help you. Look, I'll show you. Let me kill this guy myself and then... I'll do whatever you ask, I'll lead you to the portal or... I don't know. Come on!"

He scratched his chin, squinting the damaged eye - though it already looked a bit better. "No, no more surprises. We'll have to figure it out without you."

I hadn't been planning on killing Errod of course, I was just hoping that somehow a plan would come to me. Now instead the Behemoth was about to smash my skull in. I had almost had hope for a moment there. I'd kept him from killing me back on the road, I'd stalled them with lies and put up with torture... but I wasn't going to beat the Behemoth in a one on one fight.

So I dove under the wreckage of the stairs. He pulled them away and I scrambled towards the window. He kicked the table at me and I dropped under it. With the whole basement trashed and the Behemoth being the size of a professional basketball player even in his "normal" form he just wasn't prepared to deal with someone running away and hiding behind debris. I was still going to lose, there was no doubt about it - but I was going to make him look like an absolute idiot in the meantime.

It was like when I stole Jana's scrunchie back at the group home, and then stood on the other side of the dining room table from her. She could have kicked my ass, but I just kept that fucking table between us while she got more and more frustrated. Of course Jana hadn't been able to snap the whole table in half and throw the pieces at me with enough force to kill me. But you know, otherwise it was pretty similar.

Finally my luck ran out, and a thrown chair caught me in the shoulder and sent me spinning. I hit the wall, and the Behemoth stomped over to deliver the finishing blow. His hand hit a shield of magical force instead. There was yelling from upstairs, and raised voices outside. The Behemoth struck again, once more his fist bounced away, and then as arrows began slamming into him from the window he growled and jumped up to the door - totally unbothered by the lack of stairs.

The last thing I saw before passing out was Errod's hand, prodding gently at his body as if trying to wake him up.