» Thu Feb 11, 2010 8:59 pm
Tempest was pleasantly surprised by Ondine's enthusiastic interrogation of her former captive, though she did not understand everything that passed between them, especially as it came to the man called "Sir Fevrre." She knew little of the politics of Gondor, nor did she usually find much interest in them. Still, the name upset the girl even further, so Tempest made a mental note to discover what it meant later on.
She was also contented that Estelmere had followed her directions without hesitation, though he had directed a scalding look towards her as he carried the half-fainting servant girl out of the room. Perhaps she had been wrong about him, though she still did not understand his meddling, and she shot her own withering look toward his companion, a dwarf, who had remained behind, most likely eager to fill his ears with any information. She was about to order him out when her attention was again focused on the disorder before her.
For the moment, Kierul still stood with his back against the wall, and though he vacillated between being compliant and sullenly obstinate, she was more concerned with Erinhue's rising temper. Her practiced eye had not failed to notice the glimmer that had appeared in his face, and she knew all too well the danger that posed to them all.
She was not often thankful for the dragon harp, but it had its uses, especially when it came to calming down its owner. Tempest had not lowered her weapon since she entered the room, and she still stood upon the bed so that she was a few feet higher than anyone else in the room, especially Robin and the dwarf.
In a deadly quiet voice, she heard Erinhue refer to her saying, “She has learned things from the very pits of darkness that would have you pleading to do whatever she asks. Or you might take your chances with my harp. Agarak would have your secrets and leave you much worse for the wear.”
For emphasis the dragonharp hissed at Kierul, its glowing red eyes rolled to focus on its potential victim. A single note sounded from its strings and Kierul’s face went white. Erinhue leaned in even closer, his voice lowered to a lethal growl. Kierul stared into his sea grey eyes and saw the barely contained storm seething behind them.
Erinhue smiled a cold pitiless smile that surprised and impressed Tempest. The look blanched Kierul’s face even more than whatever vision the dragonharp had sent to his mind.
"Or," Erinhue used the talent of his voice to convey the utmost threat “they could just give you to me.”
"Erinhue!" Tempest's voice warned from behind him. The severity of his words, though understandable, surprised her, for she was not used to seeing him thus. "We will gain nothing from him if he is dead."
She positioned herself better and stepped off the bed, now standing beside the bard, keeping her eye ever on Kierul, though also putting a hand of restraint on her friend. "Leave him to me. You need to walk this one off," she said severely, when he did not move at all.
"I am perfectly fine," he replied in an even, dangerous tone.
"He's provoking you on purpose, though he's a fool to do so," she said aloud.
Then she leaned in and whispered low enough for only the bard to hear, "This is not YOUR way, speaking of torture and brutality. Such things will work on such a one, but not as well as pure bribery. He has sold his soul for gold, and so, the best way to make him speak, is to offer the same snare. You know this. Unless," here her whisper became more of a hiss, "Unless you really just feel the need to punch his face in. In that case, count me out. You know I have enough blood on my hands already."
The bard did not flinch at her words, but she saw that they had the desired effect. His body posture became a little less rigid, and he moved slightly to let her take the main position in front of Kierule. "As the lady wishes," he seemed to say.
Kierule, though terrified, really was a fool, for when he perceived that Erinhue and his harp had reliqueshed control to Tempest, he became bold again and spat at her, the bloodly slaver hitting her square in the chest and running down her shirt. Almost before the spit had even exited his mouth, Tempest brought the hilt of her sword up against the man's stomach, doubling him over, and with her free hand, she grabbed him by the back of the head and threw him on the bed, where she proceeded to bind him so quickly that the rest of the group didn't even have time to wonder where the rope had come from, until they realized she had used the ties from the shabby curtains over the bed. Once the man was completely immobilized, she slipped one of her dagger's out of its sheath and grabbed Kierule's hand.
"How many fingers is your silence worth to you?" she menaced. "Or shall I take the whole hand?"
The man fairly howled.
Hearing a cough behind her, she glanced at Erinhue's bemused face. "Maybe a little more blood on my hands won't make much of a difference," she observed hotly.
Kierule's memory suddenly seemed to drastically improve.