"He's in there, sir." "Thank you. Would you mind if I go in alone?" "Not at all, sir. But sir.." "Yes?" "Please take care." "I will." ---- The room was dim and smelt faintly of salt fish, staple food in winter for most inhabitants of this part of Toran. Upon his entry every free person in the room stopped whatever they were doing and turned to the door, leaving the figure on the bed free to glare at him. He had extraordinary eyes, this captive not-king. Not beautiful, surely, and not kind. Not at all kind. But still, extraordinary. Even from that emancipated, shackled ruin of a body, they managed to convey threat. Menace. Their eyes met for a while, the merest second, and Tir felt the rune on his right hand stir. Voices snapped his attention back to the situation at hand. "Sir!" He returned the salute smartly, then set the orderlies at ease with a rueful smile. "You don't have to do that anymore, you know. We're not at war anymore, and I'm hardly your ranking officer." To the awkward silence that followed, Tir said, "I wonder if I could have a few minutes alone with your charge?" The soldiers and orderlies exchanged uncertain looks among themselves. "In the interests of your safety, sir.." "Oh, I think I can take care of myself." He smiled, and the atmosphere in the room visibly softened. "We'll be outside if you need anything, sir." "Alright. Thank you." The door shut, and Tir pulled up a chair beside the bed, as if the captive shackled there was an ordinary invalid, and he a visiting friend. For a long time neither of them said anything. Then Luca Blight laughed, half a cough, half a wheeze. Tir started at the sound of it. He started to say something, but Luca beat him to it. "Come to laugh at me, Hero McDohl?" There was vehement force behind the words, thick enough to cut. Enough to inspire fear, no matter the safeguards on the mad king of Highland. "Hardly," Tir said, his voice mild. "Why did you come, then? To gloat? To inform me of my execution? Or to tell me that you bastards are giving me to the state bastards, which is much the same thing?" "I wanted to see you," Tir said. "I thought that you were dead." A snort. "I should be, shouldn't I?" Another silence, which Tir broke by asking, "Do you want those shackles off?" "Will you make me swear not to hurt you?" "No." Luca hesitated, as if thinking. "Yes." Silently, Tir reached over to undo the restraints which held Luca Blight to his bed; first the cords around his body, then the metal cuffs at his feet, then his hands. Luca lay passively until the last cuff was off. The moment he was free on his feet, he lunged at Tir, pinning him to the floor. His eyes bored into those of the smaller man's. Calmly, Tir stared back. Then slowly, almost painfully, Luca levered himself up. His arms, Tir noted, were trembling. He picked himself up without comment, then returned to his chair. Luca was still standing, as if, for once, he was at a loss for what to do. Since there was only one chair, Tir motioned to the bed. "Sit down, please." Luca sat. ---- It was odd, Luca Blight had to concede. ----