A hand clamped over Lane’s mouth. She struggled and tried to scream for Damien. Warm breath on her ear then Damien’s voice, barely a whisper. “Relax, it’s me. Someone’s trying to pick the lock to my room.”

Lane’s racing heart slowed and she stopped fighting. Damien’s hand slipped off her mouth. “What do we do?”

“You don’t do anything. I’m going to let them in and capture them. Maybe I can get something before their brains melt.”

In the pitch-black room Lane’s sense of hearing seemed heightened. She imagined she could hear the scraping of the lock pick in Damien’s door. A faint click sounded and a dim light showed under the connecting door.

She held her breath. What was happening?

The sound of tearing cloth then angry shouts. Damien uncovered her glow lamp. Lane winced and squinted her eyes at the bright light. When her vision cleared she found Damien, fully dressed, sitting beside her on the bed.

He grinned. “We caught three little fish. Shall we go see what they have to say for themselves?”

“I have to get dressed.”

He nodded. “I’ll go check things out. Don’t worry, I won’t start the questioning until you’re ready.”

Damien left and Lane rolled out of bed. She took several deep breaths, trying to bring herself under control. When she fantasized about having Damien visit her room this wasn’t what she had in mind. Lane shook out yesterday’s tunic and pants and slipped into them. She groped around under the bed for her boots then pulled them on. She didn’t bother washing up.

She opened the connecting door and found Damien standing over three golden cocoons laying on his bed. He turned her way and smiled. “Ready?”

Lane crossed the room and stood beside him. “Ready.”

The energy covering the three men’s heads vanished and they started yelling. Lane winced at the noise, but Damien just watched them, cold and indifferent. A minute passed before they finally gave up and fell silent.

“As you’ve no doubt realized, no one is coming to your rescue,” Damien said. “I’m going to ask you some questions. You’re going to answer me honestly. If you don’t, I’ll make you scream until your throats bleed.”

The captive men went pale and Lane knew how they felt. Damien threatened them in such a matter-of-fact way it sent a chill down her spine. She didn’t think he was just saying it for effect either.

Damien pointed at the first man and he flinched. “Let’s start with you. Who sent you to kill Lane?”

The prisoner opened his mouth but nothing came out. Damien shook his head. “I’ve blocked the portion of your brain that controls lies. You’ll either speak the truth or you won’t speak at all. Who sent you?”

The captive man clenched his jaw and remained silent.

Damien sighed and turned to her. “Did you know a sorcerer can directly stimulate the pain receptors in a person’s brain, causing them extreme agony without resorting to cutting or breaking bones? I’ve never done it, but it looked simple enough. Of course, if I use too much power the subject’s head might explode, but we have spares and I’m sure I’ll get it right before I kill all of them.”

Lane stared in growing horror at Damien. Why was he telling her all this? The last thing she wanted to know was how a sorcerer could best torture people. When one of the prisoners whimpered Damien winked at her. Lane released the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. He was just playing, trying to convince them to talk without hurting them.

Damien turned his attention back to the prisoners. “So who wants to go first?”

“Wait!” the center man said. “Sloan sent us. He’s in charge of the guards.”

“Shut up!” the right-hand prisoner said. The cocoon wrapped his head up and he fell silent.

“Keep talking,” Damien said.

“Sloan said if the king’s envoy was killed while visiting one of the barons’ keeps the barons wouldn’t be able to back out. Since the poison didn’t work he sent us. We were going to kill you first then the girl.”

Lane blanched at the casual way the prisoner said he was sent to kill her. Like it was no big deal. Maybe to him it wasn’t.

“Who are you people?” Damien asked. “You’re obviously not kingdom men.”

“The Bandit King sent us to keep an eye on the barons. Our master feared they lacked the spine to uphold the bargain they struck.”

“What bargain?”

“I don’t know the details. Our master offered them something in exchange for leaving the kingdom and swearing allegiance to him.”

The bindings expanded to cover all the prisoners and Damien turned to Lane. “What do you make of that?”

She shook her head. Lane didn’t know what to make of it. She now understood why they hadn’t made much effort at negotiating. The barons didn’t want a deal. They wanted her to give up and leave. “I don’t know and I can’t imagine what the bandits might have to offer the barons. I wasn’t under the impression they had a single ruler. Everything I’ve read says the bandits work in small groups that fight with each other as much as they raid us.”

“That was my understanding as well. Perhaps the warlock that put the hellfire wards in their heads is this Bandit King. That, at least, would make some sort of sense.”

“I suppose. What are we going to do now?” Lane knew she was in charge of this mission, but it had become clear to her that she was in way over her head.

“First, I have to tell you something. Your mother didn’t just send me to protect you. My secondary mission was to eliminate the barons if they proved unwilling to see reason.”

Anger flashed through Lane. Had her mother believed her incapable of resolving this matter or did she know about the bandits and used Lane as a way for Damien to get close to his targets without drawing undue attention? Either way she should have trusted Lane enough to tell her.

“When were you planning on telling me?” Lane thought she managed to keep the resentment out of her voice.

“My instructions were not to tell you until absolutely necessary. If the negotiations went well you were to never know about my mission. That was the result we were all hoping for.”

“You should have told me.” Lane failed to keep the heat out of her voice.

Damien shook his head. “Not my decision. The archmage thought this was the way to handle things. It’s hardly the place of a first-year sorcerer seven months out of the tower to question her.”

Damien had a point, she knew that, but Lane needed someone to be angry with and Damien was here. “So what now? Are you going to go kill the barons?”

“I suppose I could, but I’m curious about what the Bandit King offered them that would make them betray their country. Once I hear their answer I’ll decide whether to kill them for treason or not.”

“What about them?” Lane jerked a thumb toward the cocooned assassins.

“The bindings will hold them for a day or two. Once I understand what’s happening I can either leave them for the barons to deal with or execute them along with the traitors.”

Lane stared in horror at him. “Just like that?”

Damien nodded, seeming untroubled. “They’re murderers. As an agent of the king I’m well within my authority to execute them.”

She remembered what he said as they left Allentown, about the ability to kill without hesitation or regret. Lane had thought he meant in battle, but now she realized it extended beyond that. She couldn’t comprehend his way of thinking. Damien didn’t seem to take any pleasure in killing, but he wasn’t shy about it either. It seemed a part of his life, as ordinary as cleaning his teeth or shaving and as unworthy of comment.

The bound men floated off the top of the bed and flew under it, like bags being put under the bed for storage.

“Let’s go talk to the barons,” Damien said.

Lane couldn’t manage more than a mute nod.