Chapter 11
The Minister’s taciturn aide escorted us to the prison via carriage.
Even though it was well after midnight, I wasn’t at all tired—I was eager to get on with the job and find out everything we could.
It took about half an hour before we drew up in front of Dara’s main prison facility, a large, ugly building that rested right at the fork of the Motoac River.
The reinforced windows and the runes set into the walls and gates suggested that it was secure, protected both magically and physically.
It must be incredibly difficult to escape from there, a thought that comforted me since I knew Thorgana would be kept in this very facility once she arrived in the capital.
The aide didn’t actually go with us to the prisoners’ cells, but was very helpful to get us through several levels of guards without hassle.
The Minister’s office had clearly phoned ahead, asking for every assistance to be rendered.
We were led to a soundproofed chamber the prison officials called a ‘special interview room’.
Iannis and I made ourselves as comfortable as we could in the cold, dimly lit stone chamber, sitting at a bare metal table on bolted-down metal chairs as we waited for Doctor Mitas to be brought in.
“So how are we doing this?” I asked quietly. “Are you asking all the questions, or are we taking turns?”
“I would prefer to take the lead,” Iannis said, “but as your nose can determine whether or not he speaks truth or falsehood, you can intervene when you sense a weakness. As a human, he won’t be able to tell if we are truthful, and he will already be predisposed to expect the very worst of mages or shifters. That may help us intimidate him.”
The door opened, and two guards led the prisoner in.
Doctor Mitas was a middle-aged, lean man with dark brown hair, round, wire-rimmed spectacles, and a handlebar mustache that gave him a respectable air, at odds with the black-and-white striped prisoner uniform he wore.
His thin wrists were weighed down by heavy manacles.
Nevertheless, he kept his shoulders straight and his chin high, and regarded us with a haughty look as he was guided none too gently into the chair across from us.
The guards left us alone, but said they would be right outside, within calling distance.
“Good evening, Doctor Mitas,” Iannis said pleasantly, once the door had shut behind them. “I am Chief Mage Iannis ar’Sannin, and this is my apprentice, Sunaya Baine.”
“I know who you are,” Doctor Mitas said in a cultured, snooty voice. His bird-like nose twitched as he regarded me, and his lip curled. “A Chief Mage and a hybrid, set to be wed. What a strange world we live in, don’t you think?”
“Some might consider such a match to be progress,” Iannis pointed out. “The union of a shifter and a mage is a step in the direction of equality amongst the races.”
“Pah!” The doctor’s eyes narrowed behind his spectacles. “Perhaps, if one agreed that equality between the races was possible. But I do not. The illegitimate mage regime must be overthrown if humans are to regain their rightful position in this world.”
“How about shifters?” I asked, curious to know if he ascribed to Father Calmias and Thorgana’s genocidal views. “Are they to be eradicated as well? Or do you believe that they have an equal place in society?”
Doctor Mitas’s sniffed. “I don’t believe you dragged me from my cell to discuss my views on shifters.”
“Indeed we did not,” Iannis said, his voice growing stern. “We came to ask you about disease-spreading substances the Resistance is manufacturing.”
The doctor’s stare did not waver. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lie,” I mentally told Iannis, though it was obvious anyway.
Iannis said nothing for a long moment, while the doctor’s gaze slid away and fixed on a dent in the metal table.
“This is a waste of time,” I said in a bored voice. “This guy looks like a minion, the kind nobody would trust with confidential details. He probably knows nothing useful about the origin of the sickness.”
A tiny smirk lifted the corners of the prisoner’s mouth.
“Is that so?” Iannis said sternly.
“As I said, I don’t know anything.” The doctor sounded downright smug now. Iannis and I exchanged a glance.
“For all we know, what he used was nothing special, just a garden-variety poison,” I declared, hoping the doctor would not know Iannis himself had healed the Minister.
“Does this guy look intelligent enough to even know what he was doing? Curing shingles or ear infections is probably more his speed.”
Dr. Mitas shifted in his chair, and I held back a grin as my nose detected a strong sense of indignation from him. “I object to being insulted by a shifter!” he insisted, his eyes blazing at me. “One who hasn’t the remotest idea what she’s talking about.”
“Then prove her wrong,” Iannis said pointedly. “Tell us where you got the substance used to make the Minister sick.”
“Did the substance arrive via mail?” I asked while he was still off-balance.
“No!” I could smell the lie. “That is, I have nothing to say on the subject.” He cleared his throat, attempting to regain his composure.
I smirked, getting in his face by leaning forward and invading his personal space. My sensitive nose picked up the cold sweat erupting on his neck. “I suspect it came from the Northwest.”
Panic flashed in his eyes, confirmation enough for the moment.
“Perhaps from the town of Wacoma?” Iannis asked softly.
Dr. Mitas jerked. “Why are you asking me, if you already know?”
“Have you ever been there personally?” I followed up.
“No.” He sullenly glared at me.
“Truth,” I told Iannis. Aloud, I said, “But you know what is being produced there, and for what purpose?”
Though he did not reply out loud, it was easy for me to read him. “He knows,” I told Iannis, out loud. “Does it not trouble your conscience as a medical man, Dr. Mitas, to be involved in wholesale killing? I would not want to be one of your patients, if you are so careless of human life.”
He bridled at the accusation. “My patients are human. I do not consider mages or shifters to fall under my medical oath. My loyalty is to humanity, and I’m proud of my allegiance to the Resistance.”
Ha! It looked like the dam was finally breaking.
“The Resistance?” I jeered, curling my lip at him. “I hate to break it to you, but you’ve chosen the losing side, buddy. Now that the Benefactor is in our custody, your cause is doomed. I’m sure she would have no qualms about selling out her comrades in order to lessen her sentence.”
“Pah!” The doctor looked down his nose at me, which was an impressive feat considering he was an inch shorter.
“The Benefactor is far more clever than either of you could hope to be. Our cause will triumph with or without her.” The firm conviction in his tone sent a shiver down my spine, but I kept my posture relaxed, determined not to let him see the effect his dire prediction had on me.
“And without you as well, it looks like,” I said, arching my eyebrows. His shoulders slumped slightly at the reminder. I was pretty sure he would receive the death penalty for his role in nearly assassinating the highest official of the mage government.
“Yes, it is too bad I probably won’t see it,” the doctor admitted. “But I am not the only specialist working for the human race.” He bared his teeth in a savage smile. “I was looking forward to the pleasure of administering diseases to all the mages in Dara.”
“All of them?” I asked, hiding my horror. “You mean at once?”
The doctor laughed. “No, it will happen inconspicuously, and will look as though the mages are dying of natural causes. I don’t mind telling you, as you won’t be able to stop it.” That expectation seemed to afford him great satisfaction. “Whatever happens to me, I shall soon be avenged.”
Iannis regarded him with disgust. “What’s to stop the Federation from bringing healers in, to cure the mages you and your confederates infect?”
Doctor Mitas scoffed. “I believe you noticed it was extraordinarily difficult for you to cure the Minister of his illness, wasn’t it?”
So he was aware of that, after all. When Iannis said nothing, the doctor smiled coldly.
“We are focusing on diseases that are resistant to magical healing. There are simply not enough first-rate healers to deal with an epidemic, and, with any luck, those will be the first to die.” He smirked openly now.
“This is crazy!” I snapped, unable to hold my tongue any longer. “If these diseases can’t be cured by magic, then what are you going to do when they spread to the human population as well? Or are you so keen to kill off your own kind?”
The doctor gave me a patronizing smile. “The humans will be quite safe. Shifters, of course, are another story.”
My muscles coiled, and Iannis put his hand on my leg to keep me from lunging across the table and grabbing the smug bastard by the throat. “Doctor Mitas,” he said in a cold, commanding voice, “You will tell us exactly where those diseases are being manufactured, right now.”
I had never seen such a stern, compelling expression on his face.
The doctor was staring into his eyes as though mesmerized.
Iannis must be using persuasion, despite the Minister’s assurance that the prisoner was resistant.
Yet, what mere human would be strong enough to stand against Iannis’s power, when he had Tua blood flowing through his veins?
Iannis’s hand on my leg was tense now, so it could not be an easy spell to maintain, whatever it was.
The staring duel lasted for over thirty seconds before the doctor’s eyes fell. “I have not been there myself,” he said in a strange, faraway voice. “But I am nearly certain the place is in Nika, a small town in Osero.”
“Nika? That is fairly close to Parabas, isn’t it?” Iannis asked, referring to Osero’s state capital.
“Yes.”