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Slaves did not cherish their masters. Hatred, intense and justified, seethed just below the most obsequious smile. Insolence that fell just short of disobedience had to be tolerated, even in Urik, but no slave should have survived the look the halfling gave his master.
Yet, like Rokka with the druid woman, Escrissar didn't retaliate.
Through the aches and haze, Pavek slowly understood that Escrissar didn't know the secret of the simmering decoction. He stared at the tripod, envisioning his foot thrust through the tripod's legs, overturning the crucible, and blatantly daring Escrissar to pluck his thoughts. The mask chuckled.
"Try it, if it will make you feel better before you die, but heroics will buy you nothing. We already have enough Laq to delude all Urik. We have plans, Pavek, plans for all Athas now that the Dragon, as you said, has been brought down by a pack of jozhals."
Laq.
Pavek's foot stayed where it was. Ral's Breath took the ache out of a strained muscle or throbbing head. Laq made people crazy, then it killed them. It didn't add cleanly, but then, he wasn't an alchemist. That halfling undoubtedly was; and that halfling was making Laq in his crucible. With those hate-filled eyes, the slave was closer to pure evil than Elabon Escrissar could hope to be; closer, even, than the sorcerer-king, Hamanu.
Maybe death now, before Escrissar's alchemist spread his poison across the Tablelands, would be a blessing.
"King Hamanu will take you apart." He spat out the words before he thought to censor them.
"Who will tell him? You? Our mighty king will never know-until it's too late. The rains have come; Athas will belong to us." Escrissar's voice was tired; he'd grown bored with the game. "Get rid of him!"
Pavek glanced at the alchemist before Dovanne and Rokka seized his arms. The halfling's expression had not changed. A tiny thrill of victory beat against Pavek's ribs: slaves were still slaves. This one, he decided, would slit his master's throat when the moment was right and take Escrissar completely by surprise when he did.
Then Dovanne shoved him through the door. The half-giant gathered him into a death-hug.
"Sassel!" Dovanne shouted, treating the half-giant as if he were deaf as well as impressionable. "Let go of him." So, she wasn't going to give anyone else the honor of getting rid of him.
The half-giant clamped his great hands on either side of Pavek's skull and began to squeeze.
"Not here!" the interrogator said quickly. "Take him outside. Take him where no one will notice another corpse."
* * *
Pavek wasn't as resigned to death as he thought. His mind was racing as Sassel carried him through the catacombs to the street. The problem with half-giants wasn't their lack of intelligence, but their single-mindedness. In Sassel's mind "outside" might be outside the customhouse, or it might be outside the city walls. If it was the latter, there might still be hope for a battered and bleeding regulator.
"There's no need to get rid of me, Sassel. Take me outside the city walls, and I'll get rid of myself. You'll never see me again, and neither will anyone else in Urik."
"Not going outside the walls. 'Take him where no one will notice another corpse.' Corpses get noticed outside the walls. Going to the boneyard. No one will notice another corpse in the boneyard."
One failure: Sassel combined loyalty with his single-mindedness. Pavek tried another tack. "You're not a templar, Sassel. Only templars can leave corpses at the boneyard without paying the knacker at the gate."
Sassel scratched his beard, leaving only one arm wrapped around his captive's waist. Pavek held still, not wanting to disturb the half-giant while he thought his way through the complication.
"Sassel has money. Sassel pay. Lord Escrissar pay Sassel again, for obeying orders so well."
"Does Elabon Escrissar always reward Sassel when Sassel obeys his orders?"
"Always. Sassel always obeys his orders, always gets a reward."
"In gold, Sassel?" Pavek said, fighting to keep the desperation from his voice as Sassel started walking again, carrying him toward the boneyard, which was, in fact, a very good place to lose a corpse, and where the knacker accepted all donations, no questions asked or coins required. "You've got to pay the knacker with gold, Sassel, if you want him to keep his mouth shut."
The half-giant stopped short. "Gold? No gold. Sassel has silver, no gold."
"Then Sassel can't obey Elabon Escrissar. Escrissar will be very angry. He'll punish Sassel instead of giving him a reward, Sassel should listen to Pavek. Sassel should put Pavek down and listen to him."
Half-giants could change their most unswerving loyalty with alarming speed, but Pavek had overplayed his position.
"Pavek the templar should listen to Sassel. Templar talk nice to the knacker. Templar get Sassel into the boneyard for nothing."
"Pavek the templar will do nothing of the kind."
"Then Pavek the templar dies right here. Sassel tells a lie to nice Lord Escrissar; Sassel says Pavek's corpse is in the boneyard. Maybe Lord Escrissar learns the truth tomorrow. Maybe Elabon Escrissar never learns the truth. Sassel gets reward tonight anyway."
