The Needs of the Realm
I n the nights following her release from jail, an exhausted Karigan slept soundly until Beryl Spencer began her nightly visitations. The apparition of the late Rider sat on the edge of Karigan’s bed and gave her advice.
“It is a subtle art when practiced by the best,” Beryl said.
Beyond Karigan’s bed, behind Beryl, her chamber vanished into a blue horizon with fluffy clouds wisping by.
“Only inept practitioners use physical torture on a subject first.” Stars sparkled in Beryl’s eyes. “Or, it is used solely to break the subject for the torturer’s enjoyment.”
Karigan wanted to respond, but she could not speak as if paralyzed beneath her blankets. Ghost Kitty pawed at Beryl’s leg and it rippled like water.
“Such a one was Nyssa Starling,” Beryl continued, “who tortured you. It was not for information, no. It was for her own pleasure, driven by a sick need for gratification. She gloried in causing pain, in making her subjects bleed, and in breaking them. She especially liked subjects like you, who were strong, and who resisted. It was never about the information you may or may not have been carrying.”
Beryl removed specs from an inner pocket of her shortcoat and wiped the lenses with a cloth.
“Obtaining information through interrogation without resorting to physical harm is the finer art.
Yes, you must access your darker impulses, but you must not allow them to overrule your soul, or you are lost. Who you are, what you stand for, will be subjugated to the dark.
You must exercise restraint and disci pline when conducting an interrogation so you do not lose yourself.
“When questioning a subject, less is more. Allow the subject’s imagination to manifest their greatest fears, using suggestion of what could happen to them if they do not comply. Suggestion, when properly posed, is far more effective than inflicting pain and grievous injury.”
She put her specs on. Light from an unknown source reflected on the lenses. She continued to lecture Karigan on the techniques of interrogation as she had on previous nights.
“An effective element that can be used to manipulate their worst fears,” she said, “is creating an atmosphere.”
And on she went at length until dawn began to glow through Karigan’s arrow slit window. Beryl put her specs away and faded out, but this time another figure faded in after her, but she was very faint.
“Kari girl,” Aunt Stace said, “I warned you to be careful with that stick.”
That was all, and then she was gone. Karigan awoke sobbing.
· · ·
“You look like all five hells,” Mara said as she sat across from Karigan in the dining hall.
Karigan touched her cheek. “My face powder—?” She had used it to mask her bruises. Was it rubbing off?
“It’s fine,” Mara said. “You just look exhausted.”
“Oh.” She thought she’d probably looked like all five hells since having been released from the jail a week ago.
Ben and Mason had taken turns true healing her injuries, which had required a lot of rest, but the illness, concussion, and cracked bones were better though she ached and limped a little.
She did her best to cover up the rest with her face powder.
“More Beryl dreams?” Mara asked.
Karigan nodded and sipped her tea.
“That tea is not going to do the job,” Mara said. “Let me get you some kauv. And yes, I remember, lots of sugar.”
Fortunately, with improved shipping since the war with Second Empire and the incursions by the Darrow Raiders ended, items like kauv beans and sugar were once more available, if not entirely plentiful.
Mara returned with mugs of kauv for both of them. “Lots of sugar,” she reassured Karigan.
“Thanks.”
“What was Beryl telling you this time?”
“More of the same,” Karigan replied. “About torture and interrogation. I think it’s clear these are more than dreams.”
“You mean like ghostly visitations?”
“Yeah.”
“I have always heard,” Mara said, looking distant, “that when we sleep and dream, the veil between the layers of the world thins. Perhaps it is easier for her to come to you through your dreams.”
“I think that’s a good explanation.” The dining hall was nearly empty, so Karigan had no fear of being overheard. “I was so trapped in sleep I couldn’t move or speak.”
“Why do you suppose she’s telling you about torture and stuff?”
“I don’t know. Some ghosts aren’t fully present, really, just an echo of memory stuck in place repetitively going through the motions of some familiar task, or so I’ve heard.
Beryl knew and used interrogation techniques as a spy, and I could see her training others in life and death.
Still, she seemed to be self-aware, not repeating actions. ”
“So strange,” Mara said with a shiver. “I wish I had known her better. Or maybe not with all this talk of torture. She was a little frightening, I must admit.”
“Thing is,” Karigan said, “according to what she says, she rarely had to resort to actual torture. At least, not physical torture. It was the suggestion of what she could do that she used to augment the fears of her subjects and manipulate them. I don’t recall everything she’s told me, although I feel like it’s in here somehow. ” She tapped her temple.
“Maybe when she’s done she’ll let you sleep.”
Karigan looked into her cup at the black liquid. Steam swirled into her face. “Aunt Stace came, too.” She told Mara of the brief encounter.
“I’m sorry,” Mara said. “It must be hard.”
“At least I know she exists in some fashion,” Karigan replied.
“You know you could take some leave to go home. Your aunts would be so glad to see you.”
“I’d like to, but I have that court date coming up and I’m not allowed to leave the city.”
“I forgot that little detail,” Mara said, chagrined.
“In her letter, Aunt Brini encouraged me to wait till spring, anyway.”
They sat in silence for a time, sipping kauv.
Karigan had barely touched her breakfast, her mind filled with trepidation as she considered what she believed she must do.
The shame she bore over her actions at the guild house did not stem from the incident itself, not precisely at any rate, but from how others would perceive her.
The Riders and Weapons knew what she had done and would maintain her secret.
However, she did not doubt gossip was spreading like pox down in the city and, sooner or later, word of the incident would reach the castle, if it hadn’t already.
“Mara,” she said, “I need to tell the king and queen about what happened.”
Mara paused the drinking of her kauv. “Are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“I don’t want to. I’m ashamed. But it is the right thing to do, and the sooner I get it over with, the better. I don’t want to drag any of you down with me, either, for trying to keep the secret.”
Mara nodded. “I’ll tell Connly your decision and he’ll set up an audience. If it’s any consolation, I think you are doing the right thing.”
· · ·
When Karigan arrived at the throne room, accompanied by Connly and Mara, it was empty of all but the king and queen, Counselor Tallman, and Weapons.
When the big doors closed behind her, she briefly hesitated and took a deep breath before proceeding down the runner. They bowed when they reached the dais.
“Riders,” Zachary said by way of greeting.
“Rider G’ladheon,” Estora said, “you are feeling well now?”
If anyone asked after Karigan while she was recovering from her hurts, they’d been told she was unwell. People were going to start to think she possessed a rather sickly constitution, but she certainly had been unwell even if it wasn’t the whole truth.
“I am doing better, Your Majesty,” she replied. “Thank you for asking.”
“Was your illness related to your previous condition?” Zachary asked.
Her passage through the heavens, he meant. “No, Your Majesty.”
“Has Shawdell made his presence known again?”
While Karigan recovered from her injuries, she’d written up a report about her vision of the Intrigue game pieces in her office prior to haring off to the guild house to cause trouble. Mara, maintaining the pretense of Karigan’s “illness,” had delivered it to Zachary herself.
“No, sire,” she said.
“Then what brings three of my Green Riders for an audience?”
Connly stepped forward. “Sire, my lady, Rider G’ladheon has a tale to tell you, and it’s not a pleasant one, regarding a recent incident in the city.”
Zachary gave her a long look and she wanted to pull into herself like a turtle.
She began tentatively. In order to explain the incident at the guild house, she would have to disclose something of the clan’s financial struggles. She did not have to reveal every detail, but he should get a sense of it simply by the fact the triumvirate had banished the clan from the guild.
And, of course, there was the news her grandfather had brought about Aunt Stace. That was part of the story, too. Upon hearing of it, both Zachary and Estora expressed their sorrow.
“I recall her very well,” Estora said. “She had a commanding presence that demanded respect. Though she may have come across as stern to some, her manner was, I think, rooted in compassion and kindness.”
It was a good description and Karigan had to fight back tears.
“I’m so sorry, Karigan,” Zachary said softly. “We did not know she had been ill.”
His were a few simple words that expressed so much more.
She told them the rest, how she’d gone to the guild house carrying her grief and rage, how Celesta tore apart Clan G’ladheon’s membership to the guild, and her threats about the clan’s charter.