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She yanked the strips of skin off their chests. She waited patiently for the screams to stop, and even a little while longer while they sobbed. It was always good to let a lesson sink in.
"Please, Sister, we serve the Creator, as the Sisters have taught us," Weber cried. "We serve the Creator, not the Keeper."
She regarded him cooly. "Since you are so loyal to the Creator, Sam, I will give you first choice. Do you want to be the one to live, or to die tonight?"
"Why him?" Ranson demanded. "Why does he get to choose first?"
"Keep your tongue still, Neville. You will speak when spoken to." She slid her gaze back to Weber. She lifted his chin with a finger. "Well, Sam? Who dies, you or your best friend?" She folded her arms across her breasts.
He looked up at her with hollow eyes. His skin was ashen. He didn't look over at his friend. His voice came in a flat whisper.
"Me. Kill me. Let Neville live. I won't give an oath to the Keeper. I would rather die."
She looked back into his empty eyes a moment and then turned to Ranson. "And what have you to say, Neville? Who lives? Who dies? You, or your best friend in the world. Who gives the Keeper their oath?"
He glanced to Weber, who didn't look back. He licked his lips. His dark eyes came back to her.
"You heard him. He chooses to die. If he wants to die, let him. I choose to live. I will give the Keeper my oath."
"Your soul."
He nodded slowly, his eyes flashing fierce determination. "My soul."
"Well then," she smiled, "It seems you two friends have come to an agreement. Everyone is happy. So be it. I am pleased, Neville, that it is to be you with us. You have made me proud."
"Do I have to be here?" Ranson asked. "Do I have to see it?"
"See it?" She raised an eyebrow. "You have to do it."
He swallowed, but the hard look stayed in his eyes. She had always known it would be him. Oh, not that there hadn't been doubts, but she had known. She had taught him well. She had spent a great deal of time on him, bending him to her way.
"May I be granted one request?" Weber whispered. "May I have the collar off before I die?"
"So that you may make Wizard's Life Fire and take your own life before we have a chance to take it from you? Do you think I am stupid? A stupid, soft woman?" She shook her head. "Denied."
She released both Rada'Han from the wall. Weber sank to his knees, his head hanging. He was alone in the room, and knew it.
Ranson stood and straightened his shoulders. He pointed at the bloody wound down his chest. "What about this?"
She moved her eyes down to Weber. "Sam. Stand up." Weber stood, his eyes staying to the ground. "Your good friend has an injury. Heal him."
Without a word, Weber finally turned and put his hands on Ranson's chest, and began healing. Ranson stood tall, waiting for the pain to be taken away. She walked to the door and leaned her back against it, watching Weber do his work. His last work.
When he finished, he didn't look at either her or Ranson, but went to the far wall and slid his back down it until he sat on the floor. He buried his head between his knees and folded his arms around them.
The healed, but still naked wizard strode up to her and stopped, waiting. "What is it I am to do?"
She flicked her wrist, bringing the knife to her hand once more. She gave it a quick, sharp toss in the air, catching it by the blade. She held the handle out to him.
"You are to skin him. Alive."
She pushed the handle against him until his hand came up and took it.
Ranson's eyes left her steady gaze. He stared at the knife in his hand. "Alive," he repeated.
She reached into a pocket and pulled out the small item she had brought: a pewter figure of a man on one knee, holding a crystal over his head. His tiny bearded face was turned up to it in wonder. The crystal was slightly elongated, coming to faceted points. Inclusions floated frozen inside, like a sky of constellations. She wiped the dust off it with the corner of her light cloak and held the small statue out to Ranson.
"This is magic, and a receptacle of magic. The crystal is called quillion. It will absorb the magic as it bleeds from your friend, after he is skinned. When, and only when, all his magic has bled into the quillion, it will give off an orange glow. You will bring the crystal to me to prove you have done the job."
Ranson swallowed. "Yes, Sister."
"Before I leave tonight, you will give the oath." She pushed the figure with the crystal toward him until he took it. "This will be your first task after giving the oath. Fail it, or fail any of the tasks to follow, and you will wish you could trade places with your friend. You will wish it for all eternity."
He stood gripping the knife in one hand and the small figure in the other. "Yes, Sister." He stole a quick glance over his shoulder at the man crouched on the floor against the wall. He lowered his voice. "Sister, could you... could you still his tongue. I don't know if I could bear him talking while I do it."
She raised an eyebrow. "You have a knife, Neville. If his words bother you, cut out his tongue."
He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment. They came open. "What if he dies before the magic is all bled away?"
"With the quillion present, he will live as long as there is any significant trace of it in him. After it is all in the crystal, it will begin to glow. In that way you will know it is finished. After that, I don't care what you do with him. If you want, you may finish him quickly."
"What if he tries to prevent what I do?" He leaned a little closer. "With his magic."
She smiled and gave a nod. "That I will still, with his collar. He will not be able to stop you. After he is dead, there will be no life force to hold the Rada'Han on him. It will open. Bring it with you and give it to me when you bring the crystal."
"And what about the body?"
She gave him a hard look. "You know how to wield the Subtractive. I have spent a good deal of time teaching you, as have others." She darted glance at Weber. "Use it. Get rid of the body with Subtractive Magic. Every last scrap of it. Every last drop of blood."
Ranson straightened a little and nodded. "All right."
"After you have finished here, and before you come to me at dawn, there is one more task you will perform this night."
Ranson took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Another task? Must I do another task this night?"
She smiled and patted his cheek. "This second task you will enjoy. It is a reward for doing a good job with the first. Serving the Keeper well has its rewards, as you will find out. Failing him has its punishments, as I hope you never discover."
He looked suspicious. "And what is this second task?"
"You know a novice named Pasha?"
He let out a grunt. "There isn't a man in the Palace who doesn't know who Pasha Maes is."
"And how well do these men 'know' her?"
Ranson shrugged. "She likes to give a kiss and a cuddle in a corner."
"Any more than a 'kiss and a cuddle'?"
"I know a few men who have had their hand up her skirt. I've heard them talk about what fine legs she has, how they would give up the gift just to have those legs around them. But I don't think any have. Some of the men watch out for her, like she were a defenseless kitten. One in particular, young Warren, keeps a watchful eye on her."
"Warren is one of the men she likes to kiss and cuddle?"
"I don't think she would know him if he was standing in front of her." He chuckled softly. "If he could even work up enough courage to take his nose out of the archives and look her in the face." He frowned. "So what is the task?"
"When you are finished here, I want you to go to her room. Tell her how you are to be released tomorrow, and that when you passed all your tests, the Creator came to you in a vision. Tell her that the Creator told you in this vision that you were to go to her and teach her how to use the glorious gift of her figure that He had given her, how she was meant to use this gift to please men, so that when the special
task He has for her is revealed, she will be prepared.
"Tell her the Creator said it was to help her deal with her new one, as he would be the most difficult any novice has ever been given. Tell her the Creator revealed to you that He made this night hot, so she would sweat between her breasts, over her heart, to awaken her to His wishes." She gave him a smooth smile. "Then, I want you to teach her how to please a man."
He stared incredulously at her. "What makes you think she will believe any of this, or go along?"
Her smile widened. "You tell her what I told you to tell her, Neville, and you will have a great deal more than your hand up her skirt. She will probably have her legs around you before you finish talking."
He nodded dumbly. "All right."
She glanced deliberately down at him. "I'm glad to see that you are... up to the task." She looked back to his eyes. "Teach her everything you can think of to please a man. At least everything you can teach her by dawn. Teach her well. I want her to know how to make a man happy, and keep him coming back for more."
He smiled. "Yes, Sister."
She put the tip of the rod under his chin, lifting it a little. "You be gentle with her, Neville. I don't want you to hurt her in any way. I want this to be a very pleasant experience for her. I want her to enjoy it." She looked down at him again. "Well, do the best you can with what you have."
