Taking his leave of the wizard, Draken shakes the demons from his head. Tobias, he hasn’t thought about him in a while. That fool could have outrun an old woman and no one would have died.

Draken knows that if he’d been there he’d have never let any bodies drop. Then again if anyone had spotted him last week he might be dangling at the end of a rope himself. He rubs his neck at the uncomfortable thought. Red velvet curtains mark the witch’s territory. Draken feels a pressure deep inside of him, this consuming apprehension makes him pause. He feels a hand on his shoulder and jumps in his skin. A grinning farmboy meets his gaze, the same overgrown youth who he’d met before.

“You look pretty good considering what happened to the last guy, how’d you do?” The older boy asks. Draken shrugs out of the lad’s grip,“Said some stuff to him at the end, pissed him off.”

“Pissing off the proctors is getting to be a habit with you.” The boy laughs.

“How’d things go with the sorcerer?” Draken asks.

The older youth yawns. “You were right, he gave me a break once I leveled with him. Got any tips for the wizard?”

Draken smiles. “No freebees, tit for tat that’s the deal.”

The smile vanishes from the other lad’s face and he looks nervously at the velvet curtain.

“I already told you, she gets in your head, that bitch. She’ll Crack your mind open like an egg and scramble it. Your worst memories, your darkest fears, nothing is safe. I didn’t come close to passing, so I can’t imagine what it takes but you’ll need to anchor your thoughts just to stay sane.” He waggles his thumb toward a gibbering, blank faced girl. “She took the test before me.”

A tense feeling builds as Draken glances at the curtain again. He clears his throat, turning his attention back to his friend. “Alright, tit for tat, the wizard’s a softie. You keep that in mind and don’t panic, I think you’ll be OK. ”

“What do you mean by softie?” The older kid asks.

“I can’t give details on account of he changes the test up each time but no matter how bad it looks he aint about to let you die on him, so keep your cool.”

The boy scratches his lightly fuzzed chin, “the dead kid might say otherwise.”

“That kid was a fool and unlucky to boot,” Draken shrugs. “Guess I’d better head through that curtain and get it over with.”

Draken feels a hand on his shoulder again, the older lad is grim-faced.

“Be careful, this witch is most definitely not a softie. She gets a kick out of destroying people. ”

Draken nods, preparing himself for the worse.

Slowly and with great trepidation he steps past the velvet curtain. The smell of lavender caresses his nose as he enters the dark, candle-lit alcove. The buxom woman lounging on the couch wears a thin, gauzy dress that leaves nothing to the imagination.

“You’ve left me waiting, Draken Crowe. Sit on the cushion, we’re going to play a kind of game.” Draken nervously swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. He quickly accepts her invitation to sit, hoping to hide a fast growing bulge.

The woman smiles, the predatory look in her eyes worries the boy. An image of the broken and blubbering girl flashes through his mind just as a name enters his thoughts unbidden. “You’re called Madame Veronica Tamrin, how do I know your name?”

“Very good, Draken,” she coos. “You've got a touch of the gift, that makes it all the more important that I destroy you.” Her laugh chills Draken’s blood. “But only if you fail, untrained gifts are dangerous after all.”

Draken blinks and Tamrin is next to him, her hand suggestively in his lap.

“You said we’d play a game.” He says with no small spark of lust crackling through his voice.

“It’s a dangerous game we play, one you might not survive if you are weak, I call it the witches confession. The rules are simple, I’ll ask the questions and you try not to answer. If you can hold out any secrets from me you’ll pass.”

Draken’s heart quickens, there are some secrets that could put a noose around his neck.

“What kind of questions?” She puts her hand on his chest, groping his pec through his shirt.

“All kinds of questions, for instance have you ever been with a woman?”

Draken gasps in pleasure as the painted whore mounts him. Glancing over her shoulder he sees Mistress Veronica sipping a glass of wine. Fear and shame mix like a cocktail and he throws the girl from him attempting quickly to cover himself with the sheet.

“What the hell are you doing here?!” He shouts, “how in hell did you even … wait what’s going on?”

He finds himself sitting on the cushion in the candle lit alcove, fully clothed. The witch still lounges on the couch as if she never moved an inch since he’d passed the curtain.

“Whoring at your tender age, scandalous.” She sips her wine and the blood flows from Draken’s crotch to his cheeks. He is mortified, nothing in his life has ever been this humiliating.

“That was a violation!” Draken shouts..

The witch has invaded his intimate, personal memories. Made him relive his most private moment for her amusement and seen him nude and quaking with pleasure in the arms of his first whore. Shame, humiliation and outrage are a swirling storm within him.

Veronica laughs, “get used to it, that was only the beginning. I’m going to dig you out and lay you bare. No question is off-limits and you’ll have to be damned good to keep me from the answers.”

Looking past the titillating outfit, Draken tries to read Madame Veronica. His thief senses flare up in alarm, one good look tells him her type and it’s very bad. She reminds him of a top-level street boss, the kind he’s only ever seen a few times and would never dare to talk to. She’s utterly ruthless and too dangerous for words, the type of person ruled by ambition who is most amused by tormenting the weak.

“Are you afraid, little boy?”

Draken’s feet tell him to run, his legs shake and his heart pounds but he stands his ground. He takes several long breaths, clenching his fists. Fuck her, he thinks. Fuck this arrogant bitch!

“Ask your questions,” he says.

“What are you most proud of?” She asks.

Shouting , cursing, smashing and screaming fill the hot night air. A fist comes Draken’s way, he dodges and knocks his attacker down with a well placed punch. It’s a big rumble, like Draken’s only seen once before.

Fist blocked, knife dodged, knife in hand. South Side Bull approaches gripping a wickedly spiked club, eyes lighting with murderous glee as they zero on Draken.

He darts up, feints with his dagger and the bull flinches. That moment his pocket knife sinks to the hilt in the bull’s shoulder. The club clatters to the ground for Draken to snatch up and he breaks the bull’s face.

Sprinting through the mayhem, Draken seeks friendly faces, someone out there somewhere needs backup. A familiar pair of snake skin boots kick out from behind the mass of two Ice Street Cleavers.

The meaty sound of fists hitting flesh leaves no question as to the state of affairs. Draken hefts the club and runs, leaping over a small black dog as he sprints. The first of the Ice Street Cleavers goes down under the weight of his club. The second counter attacks but Draken swings the club up into his enemy’s crotch with a squashing crunch. A third comes at him with a razor-sharp sword, swinging it so wildly Draken is certain he’ll get cut as he feels the air sliced inches from his eyes. A chain smashes the swordsman’s face in swirl of blood. Top Boy is on his feet, bruised and bloody but ready for action, swinging his chain like a man possessed.

“Thanks for the help,” Draken beams as he cracks the knee of an enemy.

“It’s what family’s for,” his uncle replies. “Besides, you saved my buns first, when we get out of this you’ll have your own crew.” They fight elbow to elbow, smashing, slashing, swinging, punching and kicking anyone who isn’t them.

“Good lord, I’ll drown in all this testosterone.”

Draken looks up from the frenzy to see Madame Veronica Tamerin. Everything around him freezes in place.

“All about sex and violence with you, Crowe. So typically male.” She waves at the chaos all around them. “This madness is your proudest moment? I suppose you never bothered to learn if any of these ruffians you bludgeoned with such lethal force lived or died.”

Thoughts of a more recent night creep into Draken’s mind, he doesn't dare go there.

“I don’t want to think about it,” Draken mutters.

“Think about what, Draken, your guilt? Why do you feel guilty?”

The alley slowly begins to fade into existence but Draken quickly thinks of something else. He shifts focus to another guilt.

“Guilty of first degree homicide.” The magistrate bangs his gavel. “My recommendation is for capital punishment, once ratified by the High Wizard sentence will be carried out two days hence.”

Looking pathetic and confused, Tobias’ chains rattle as he waves Draken to sit behind him.

“Can you explain some of these big words to me?” He shakes his head.

“Anytime I ask my lawyer to explain this stuff she looks at me like I’m the dumbest guy in the world. I’m not following any of this but seeing as the old lady aint shown up yet to point the finger at me I’m wondering if one of them big words means I hurt her worse’n I thought. What do they mean when they say, Homicide?”

This time, Draken thinks, I’ll tell him the truth.

But the words won’t come out, he doesn’t know if it’s the spell or a general lack of courage but the result is the same.

“You broke her hip,” he lies.

Tobias sighs, relief on his face.

“ She’ll recover then?”

After a long moment Draken nods, a sick feeling in his stomach.

“She’ll be crippled but live.”

“So, what’s this capital punishment?” Tobias asks, “It sounds bad.”

Draken grits his teeth.

“You can’t expect them to go easy, you beat an old lady,” he stops himself before saying ‘to death’, “You beat her real bad in her own home.”

Tobias looks him straight in the eyes, he knows there’s something Draken isn’t saying.

“Don’t cherrycoat this, level with me. How bad is it gonna be? ”

His eyes are so full of fear, the truth is on Draken’s tongue but he can’t push it out of his mouth.

Saying the words out loud would feel like passing the sentence himself. Instead another lie slips out without effort.

“You know Gold Seal is one of the three capitals, right? Capital punishment means they plan to lock you in the city dungeon after they whip you and let the High Wizard decide how long they keep you.” He feels warm breath on his left ear.

“You lied to him,” Madame Veronica observes.

“The truth was too awful for him to handle,” Draken replies. “But he still had a right to know.”

Draken finds himself standing in Judgement Square at the center of the city. The mob’s singular jeering voice makes his blood boil. He pushes and shoves his way past heavy and stinking bodies to the front. There, at the center of the square is raised stone stage. On either side of the stage are stockades, near the center left is a whipping post and beyond that a large wooden gallows stands at dead center.

Tobias is led up the steps, shuffling in his chains in a struggle to keep pace with his guards and looking suitably cowed. Thrown cabbages explode at his feet, shit and all kinds of detritus bounce and smear and splat against his body but he shuffles on unphased. Once out of missile range he stops for just a moment to scrape the vegetable matter from his hair and wipe rotten egg from his face. The guards are surprisingly understanding in allowing him the time he needs to clean up and one even offers a handkerchief.

For a moment Draken wonders if his friend has figured out what is waiting for him on that platform. Then he noticed Tobias’ eyes lingering on three pretty girls with a black dog standing near the steps.

Tobias never was willing to look bad in front of a girl. He flashes a grin at the ladies and continues up the steps but with slow and increasing hesitation. More than once the guards have to shove him forward, probing with the butts of their crossbows. Then he stops moving at the whipping post and the guards close in.

“What are you stopping here for? This ain't no whippin, sonny.”

Tobias’ eyes dart around like a cornered farret’s searching each of the guard’s cold stony faces and grow wide as they fall on the gallows. He whips his head around and stares right at Draken and the young thief’s blood freezes under his friend’s eyes.

“You can’t be serious, I know what I did was bad but it ain't nothin to hang a fella over!”

“Murder’s nothing to hang you over, that’s a new one.” the guard kicks Tobias forward as the mob laughs.

“Murder?! What do you mean I only broke her hip.”

Tobias stumbles to the ground under the force of the guard’s shove.

“You broke her neck, punk!”

He’s pulled to up by rough hands on either side.

“On your feet and get moving, killer. Nobody’s gonna buy your act.”

“It’s not an act!” Tobias shouts as he tries to break ranks with the guards. They hold him tight in muscular grips as he kicks and struggles, tears pouring from his eyes.

“Please, I don’t want to die, I’m only fourteen.” They drag him toward the gallows as his feet impotently kick out in protest.

“You’re making a fool of yourself,” one of the guards rasps. “Be a man about this, dammit.”

“I’m not a man, i’m a boy!” He screams, is voice hoarse and quivering with intermittent sobs. A sickening wave of mocking laughter passes over the mob.

“Please, please don’t kill me!” Finally, unable to take one more moment of the shameful display a guard slugs Tobias hard in the gut.

Draken turns away to see mistress Veronica standing beside him in the crowd looking as intimidating as the grim reaper. The jeers and wild shouting of the mob rises to a crescendo and the witch smiles.

“Please don’t make me watch this again.” Draken pleads, reminding himself of Tobias.

“Your guilt brought you here, Draken. Ask yourself why.”

Tobias is propped up by his guards and guided to the gallows, swaying on his feet in clear disorientation.

“I lied to him,” he says. “I robbed him of the truth and stole his dignity in the process.” The mob’s laughter is like acid in Draken’s ears.

“He might have panicked anyway even if you’d told him.” Veronica replies, some small hint of remote sympathy in her cold voice.

He shakes his head, “The shock is what broke him.”

The drumroll draws Draken’s attention to the gallows in time to see them slip the noose around Tobias’ neck, he stares daggers at Draken, stabbing him deep with angry eyes that seemed to shout, “I will never forgive you”.

The boy’s chest tightens under the wrathful gaze, he turns to Veronica but she’s gone.

“Don’t make me watch him die again!” The only reply is the maddened braying of the bloodthirsty mob.

“Does the condemned have any last words?” The magistrate asks from atop balcony jutting out from the courthouse to loom over the gallows.

Tobias clears his throat,“I want to apologize for my unmanly display, my only excuse is that I've been misled about the consequences of my actions.”

His voice wavers to a momentary whimper.

“Still, it was only just a love tap. If the bitch was old enough to die from that she would have died soon anyway, what’s the sense in hanging me?” He tenses as if considering trying one last attempt to break free, then his shoulders drop. “Fuck, goddamn my life and goddamn the law! Never figured I’d make it to twenty anyway, just do it before I start crying.” He closes his eyes and his every muscle stiffens. Draken can tell his friend is trying to be brave but sees his shaking legs.

The trapdoor opens and the rope constricts around his neck as he plummets through. His neck doesn't break, Tobias turns blue and his eyes bulge as he gasps for air that will not come, his body spasming in pain. After two full minutes of struggle he stops moving and dangles lifeless at the end of the rope.

Draken struggles to hold down his lunch, last time he threw up but this time he manages somehow not to. But he can’t keep in the tears that he held back last time, he falls to his knees.