first kill! Then Kadakithis began puking.
*
Pitchy torches flickered to create weird, dancing shadows on stone walls grim as
death. The walls framed a large room strewn with tables, chains, needles,
pincers, gyves, ropes, nails, shackles, hammers, wooden wedges and blocks and
splinters, pliers, fascinating gags, mouth- and tongue-stretchers, heating
irons, wheels, two braziers, pulleys. Much of this charming paraphernalia was
stained dark here and there. On one of the tables lay Hanse. He was bruised,
cut, contused – and being stretched, all in no more than his breechclout. Also
present, were Prince Kadakithis, his bright-eyed consort, two severe Hell
Hounds, his oddly attired old adviser, and three Sanctuarite nobles from the
council. And the palace smith. Massively constructed and black-nailed, he was an
imposing substitute for the torturer, who was ill.
He took up a sledgehammer and regarded it thoughtfully. Milady Consort’s eyes
brightened still more. So did those ofZalbar the Hell Hound. Hanse discovered
that in his present posture a gulp turned his Adam’s apple into a blade that
threatened to cut his throat from the inside.
The smith put down the hammer and took up a pair of long-handled pincers.
‘Does he have to keep that there rag on his jewels, Yer Highness?’
‘No need to torture him there,’ Kadakithis said equably. He glanced at his wife,
who’d gone all trembly. ‘ Yet. Try a few less horrific measures. First.’
‘Surely he isn’t tall enough,’ Zaibar said hopefully. He stood about six inches