“Where did you put him this time?” Her voice sounded closer.
I stilled, halting my breath. Fear froze my insides, paralyzing my limbs—my usual reaction to Madame’s presence.
“He’s here, Madame,” Krin’s voice replied.
“He”not “she.” Madame wasn’t looking for me, for once. I allowed some tension to drain, relaxing my stiff shoulders.
“Put the mirror here,” Madame ordered sharply, the sound of her footsteps stopping in front of the crate I hid behind.
Other footsteps joined hers—heavy stomping of bracks’ boots. There were more bracks who came with her, not just Krin. I tried to make myself even smaller, hoping they wouldn’t look behind the crate.
“Get me a chair, too,” Madame demanded.
Too scared to be discovered, I didn’t dare look out from behind the crate, keeping as quiet as possible.
“Open the crate,” Madame commanded. “He’s chained, isn’t he?”
“Yes, Madame,” Krin replied. The bracks complied with her orders, judging by the screeching sound of nails being wrenched out of the wood. “He has his hood on, too.”
She huffed. “I don’t trust their hoods. I’m not looking at a gorgonian directly. Neither should you if you treasure your life. Place the mirror so I can see him in it.”
More shuffling and rustling sounded as the bracks complied. Then came the slamming of one side of the crate falling open.
“What a pathetic state to be in for a future High Lord,” Madame murmured with a mocking note in her voice.
A rattling of chains came from inside the crate, as if the creature kept in there moved.
Madame chuckled. “Surely, working for me couldn’t be any more demeaning than spending your days chained in a crate like an animal.”
“I’d rather die as an animal than live as your slave.” It was said in a low, cracked voice, barely audible. Yet the sound of it slammed over me like a hammer.
It wasn’t an animal but a person in that crate! A person who could speak, think, feel…
How long had he been in there?
I’d never received the order to feed the occupant of this crate. Did someone else feed him?
“My slave?” Madame scoffed. “Like my bracks? No, honey. I’m not offering you the honor of becoming one of them. All I’m asking from you is a partnership, a business arrangement, if you will. You’ll become my next VIP act. I want you to use your magic to wow my human audience, but without harming them. Dead can’t pay, can they?” She chuckled. “Then I’ll think about releasing you back to Nerifir one day. All I need is your promise to cooperate.”
“You won’t get it,” the reply came. “I don’t make deals with disgraced goddesses.”
Quiet as the voice was, it carried the force of defiance and contempt. Madame’s prisoner appeared to mock her. I marveled at how brave he was—stupid, but brave.
Stunned by his insolence, I almost missed the fact that he’d called her a goddess. Was that what Madame really was?
Madame’s chair suddenly crashed to the ground with a slamming noise. She must’ve leaped to her feet.
Way too familiar with her temper, I drew my head into my shoulders, even though I knew she couldn’t see me.
“Look at you!” she screamed. “You’re pathetic! Shriveling and drying out from thirst. You haven’t had a drop of water in months, and you’re sure not getting any until you agree to work for me. Resist, and you’ll die most pitifully. No one in Nerifir will ever know about your fate. You’ll perish here, in this sad human world. Nameless!”
A soft, dry chuckle came from the crate. The person must be insane, laughing in her face. “I dare you look at me directly, Goddess Ghata. Instead of hiding behind that old mirror like the coward you are—”
“Enough!” Madame’s voice thundered, sending a bolt of terror through my chest. “Close the crate. Let him rot inside.”
The bracks moved to obey her orders.
“His hood!” Madame suddenly yelled in warning. “Krin. No!” Genuine fear—an emotion I’d never encountered in Madame before—vibrated in her voice. “Zuso, Nerkan, close your eyes!”
The sound of a punch came.
Grunts of pain.
Then something hard and heavy crashed to the floor.
I covered my ears with my hands, trying to block the noises of whatever horrors were happening in front of that crate—things so terrifying, they scared a goddess.
The slamming of the crate being shut came, then the sound of the nails being hammered in.
“All done, Madame,” Zuso, another brack, said.
“Clean this up,” she ordered in a somewhat shaken voice. “And no water for the gorgonian. He made his choice. Let him die.”
Afraid to breathe, I stayed behind the crate long after all sounds in the room ceased—the shuffling of the bracks, the sweeping of the broom, the footsteps of everyone leaving.
In the quiet that followed, I ventured to press my ear to the crate. The faint sound of the shallow, labored breathing came from inside.
A man?
A monster?
Fear surged through me with a shudder.
Trying to make as little noise as possible, I crawled from behind the crate on all fours. My hand landed on a piece of something hard on the floor. I picked it up.
Strings of white light hung high under the ceiling of the tent, aiding the sunlight filtering through the canvas in illuminating the space.
I examined the item in my hand. It was about an inch long, gray, and hard like a rock. It was shaped like the tip of a finger—a thumb—complete with the smooth, short nail on one end. When I turned it over, a long gash on the thumb’s pad came into view, the scratch from the beast’s claw.
Struck by horror, I tossed it away and ran from the room as fast as I could and as far from the crate as possible.
I had no idea what exactly happened in that room that morning. But I was fairly certain I'd never see Krin again.