Then Ryn became aware of the sound of Vorr’s breathing. It was deep, coming from the general’s nostrils, and so loud that he could even hear it over the sound of the traveling train. The breaths were getting louder still, and slightly faster, and now closer, as Vorr stepped nearer and stood over Ryn.

“I’m going to ask you again,” Vorr said slowly and deliberately, like he was holding back strong emotion. “Are you alone, or are your companions from Ast with you?”

What do I tell him? Ryn thought as he stared into the red carpet. I don’t even know where they are now. They might have run away. But should I admit that they were on the train at all? He as good as knows that already... But no...if there’s a chance they can get away I shouldn’t confirm that for him. Mother. Father. Hometown. Nuthea. I found Vorr. I tried to kill Vorr. I failed. Damn him.

Ryn flipped himself round and sat up. He looked up at the huge, looming figure of Vorr, this man who had killed his parents and destroyed his hometown, the man whom he hated so much. The general was still breathing heavily, but his massive jaw was set in a tight line in his stupid round face underneath his bright red hair. There was something burning in his eyes--anger, maybe, or hatred, or...lust of some kind? Ryn wavered for a moment.

But then he said “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” with a defiant smile.

“ARGH--!”

Ryn lost a brief moment of consciousness. Then he became aware that he was now lying a couple of paces away on his back. The shout he had just heard caught up to him, and at first he thought it had been his own, but then he realised it had been a shout of fury from Vorr.

Then the pain set in. He had been numb with shock for a moment, but now a terrible pain screamed from his mouth and nose. He instinctively felt for his front teeth with his tongue. A couple were missing, and others were broken.

Vorr must have kicked him in the face so hard that he had blacked out for a moment...the pain was so bad he could barely think over it…

Vorr was crouching over him. “Did you come alone or with others?” he said calmly and deliberately again. “How did you get on board this train? Tell me now or I will break your fingers one by one.”

Ryn could barely hear his own terrified thoughts through the agony of his mouth and nose. I should just give in… Tell him…

When he hesitated, Ryn felt Vorr pull off one of his Imperial gloves and take hold of one of his fingers.

“No, please!” Ryn just had time to squeal.

A snapping sound.

An ecstasy of white-hot pain flooded Ryn’s being, flowing up from his finger and joining with the wells of pain already leaking from his mouth, nose, and back. He heard himself screaming somewhere, but he heard it as something happening to someone far away, on the other side of the pain.

The initial flash of pain receded just a little, quietening ever so slightly, and Ryn heard himself pleading with Vorr in a manic squeal.

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell you! Please don’t break any more of my fingers! I know as much as you! My two friends were with me in the carriage, but they got away when I attacked you! I don’t know where though! I don’t know where they’ve gone!”

“Good,” said Vorr. “That is more like it. I may consider stopping torturing you now. If you keep talking.”

Oh thank the gods, Ryn managed to think in the sea of pain. Thank Imkala. Thank Edres. Thank Yntrik. Thank all the gods. Thank the One!

“On the other hand, I’m rather enjoying myself, and we’ve started now, so why not carry on?”

Snap.

The whole world was pain. Ryn screamed again, and kept on screaming.

“Tell me more,” said Vorr’s voice somewhere in the pain. “That’s not enough. How did you join up with the jewel-touched pirate? Are there any more of you? Where would the wench and the pirate have gone? Tell me! Tell me now!”

Snap.

Pain, pain, so much pain. Pain like a tidal wave crashing over him; almost enough pain to make him pass out.

Just tell him, just speak, say something, maybe he will stop breaking your fingers!

“We just found him!” Ryn squeaked when the first wave had passed over him. “We landed on his ship when we fell out of yours! Nuthea says it was the One, but it could have just been pure luck! And I don’t know where they’ve gone! I wasn’t meant to attack you, I just did it on impulse, so they’ve probably run away! They could be anywhere; they could have jumped off the train by now and left me!”

“Unlikely,” said Vorr’s voice from somewhere. “They would injure themselves jumping onto land from a moving train. Though the pirate does have wind-projection... What about others? Are there any others with you?”

In the storm of pain, Ryn searched through his mind for something to cling to. Could he afford to tell the general about Elrann, Vish and Cid? Anything that might have the smallest chance of stopping this pain, or slowing it down… Cid was jewel-touched too. That might be important… And Vish seemed to have turned traitor to the Empire… Was it worth revealing that?

When he hesitated again, Vorr snapped another one of his fingers.

“Aaaaaarggggghhh!”

“Are there others with you?” Vorr bellowed. “Are there others? Tell me!”

Ryn broke his limit.

A strange tingling sensation joined the pain for a moment, mixing with it, spreading from his heart out through his whole body, to his head, to his feet, to the tips of his mangled fingers.

He opened his eyes, which had been scrunched shut in agony, and realised that he was on fire.

In his desperation, he had somehow inadvertently lit his whole body on fire.

He looked up at Vorr through his new aura of flickering orange. The general was still crouched over him, holding one of his hands.

“FIREBURST!” Ryn shouted, and this time flames leapt straight from his mouth.

The flames flew into Vorr’s face…

...but merely dissipated when they hit it, without any effect.

Vorr blinked a couple of times and leaned in closer so they were face to face.

“You stupid mutt,” Vorr said right in his face. “I can see you’ve been practicing. But that’s not going to work on me, remember? How many times do you need to be reminded of thiis? I am ruby-touched too, as are all my officers now. I have fire-projection just like you, and fire cannot harm me.”

As if Ryn thought that it would. As if Ryn was acting rationally, out of anything other than primal survival instinct.

Vorr’s face receded, and then he kicked Ryn in the stomach again, sending him skidding across the floor and into the side of one of the beds.

Something in Ryn’s chest stuck out at a weird angle and his fingers raged at him when he automatically put them out to steady himself. The pain had reached a new intensity he had never imagined possible. He felt his attention starting to move in and out of focus--he was going to pass out. Either that or Vorr was going to kill him first.

“Are there others with you?” Vorr shouted again, emphasising every other word like Ryn was an idiot. “Do you know of the locations of any more of the Jewels? Why are you on a train bound for Manolia? Tell me, you pathetic piece of poodoo! Tell me or I will break every single one of your fingers and toes! Tell me or I will cut them off and make you eat them!”

Just pain. And the fear of even more of it. And the shame that he knew he couldn’t hold out for much longer and that soon he would tell the general everything.

“WHAT IS IT?” Ryn heard Vorr yell.

Vorr was striding over to the door of the carriage. Someone had knocked on it. He heard Vorr open the door. Ryn could just about make out their conversation through the noise of his pain.

“What? I am busy.”

“My apologies, general, but you said to let you know if there were any developments.”

Cid?

“Well, what is it? Spit it out, godsdamn you, soldier.”

“It’s the Shadowfingers, sir. They’ve caught the other infiltrators.”

No...

“Already? Why didn’t you say so straight away? Let them in, you fool!”

“Yes sir.”

Even though it hurt to move, Ryn managed to roll over a little onto his side so that he could look at the door.

Cid stood aside, and in came Vish and the other lady Shadowfinger followed by an un-helmeted Sagar and Nuthea. Ryn’s tired, overworked heart still leapt a little in his chest when he saw her. Sagar and Nuthea were marched in by two more soldiers who held swordpoints to the back of their necks to stop them trying anything--the younger of the two they had met last night and...Elrann.

What in all the hells? Has Elrann betrayed us now too? Or is Vish planning something?

“Shut the door, solider,” Vorr commanded, and Cid did so, still on this side of it.

The new arrivals walked in and fanned out in front of Vorr in what space there was between the beds. They were somewhat obscured by Vorr himself, but Ryn saw Nuthea’s eyes flick down to him in concern, then back up to Vorr, whom she regarded with tight-lipped rigidity. Sagar, unusually, wore nearly the same tense expression. They didn’t look like they had a plan, Ryn had to think amidst the terrible pain. Maybe he should just give up and die now.

“General Vorr.” Vish was the first to speak, in his exotic, guttural tones.

“Shadowfinger Vish,” acknowledged Vorr. He and Vish addressed each other almost as...equals? “Congratulations. I see that you have made good on your latest bounty...with a little help from me, it would seem.” He gestured with a hand towards Ryn. “You will be rewarded accordingly with poppy seed.”

Vish’s eyes stretched in size for the briefest of instants. Ryn had to close his own eyes again for a moment in response to a particularly strong throb of pain from his fingers. He didn’t want to whimper in front of Nuthea, so he bit down on his tongue.

“Thank you, General,” said Vish.

“I must say though, Shadowfinger,” Vorr went on, “that I am a little confused as to why it is only here and now that you have managed to unmask and bring in these rebels.” There was something off about Vorr’s voice, but Ryn couldn’t place it. It had taken on a sinister note, even more so than usual. Was he really confused, like he said, or was there something else going on?

“Oh?” said Vish. Ryn couldn’t read his expression underneath his headscarf, but this time his grey eyes stayed level. “What are you confused about, General?”

“If you knew that the rebels were on this train, why did you not inform me, either of this, or that you were on it too?”

The briefest of hesitations. Then Vish said, “Simple, General. I had tracked the three targets to Sirra, but temporarily lost them when they disguised themselves and infiltrated this train. I was fairly sure I had the right people, but I was biding my time to make absolutely sure, and to see what they were up to. When that boy over there revealed himself, I knew I had them. So here they are for you.”

“Ingenious,” said Vorr, lingering over the word. “Well, your story makes sense. Congratulations, again, Shadowfinger.” His hand went to one of a number of small pouches affixed to his belt, popped it open, and drew something out, holding it up in front of himself.

Vish’s eyes went wide again, and stayed that way.

“Here’s your poppy seed in reward,” said Vorr. “One now, and two more later, seeing as you brought in three targets. Although really I was the one who apprehended the first one, so I’m being more than generous.”

Ryn could see the longing in Vish’s eyes.

Come on Vish! he willed through his pain. He hadn’t seen this coming. Cid has plenty of poppy! We can give you poppy! If you’re planning something, don’t give in now!

“I…” said Vish. “I am grateful, General.”

The Shadowfinger stepped forwards to take the poppy.

No!

When he stepped within reach, Vorr grabbed Vish by the throat with one hand. Nuthea and Sagar gasped.

Vish’s hands flew to his neck at once to try to prise Vorr’s hand off. But it was no use; the gauntleted fingers fixed tightly around his throat. Vorr lifted him off the ground with one hand and held him aloft. Vish started to wheeze and choke, his legs kicking frantically as he pulled at Vorr’s hand with no success.

“Pitiful darkie,” Vorr said. “I don’t know why the Emperor values you so much. How did they get you? Did they offer you a better poppy supply, somehow? Nobody has more poppy than us. The seeds are always your weakness.” He looked past Vish. “Soldiers, kill the hostages.”

“N-now!” Vish managed to croak from within Vorr’s grip. “Do it now!”

Chaos erupted.

A gust of air billowed through the carriage. Sagar, Ryn thought briefly, before he was flipped over onto his front. He screamed as the pain in his hand and back spiked again.

Shouts and battle cries and the sound of pistols discharging and the ring of steel on steel.

And then he was on his back again, another flare of pain exploding through his body.

Cid’s face swam into his failing vision amidst dancing white spots.

“...is bad,” Cid was saying, kneeling next to him. “Really bad. I’m going to have to use a lot of mana to heal you. Hold on.”

Cid placed one hand on Ryn’s chest, cradled Ryn’s broken fingers with the other, and closed his eyes. Another shock of pain, and Ryn screamed again. He was sure that this one was going to tip him over into unconsciousness, or worse--

“Cura!”

--but then the heat of the pain transformed all of a sudden, and became a cool, soothing sensation that started in his hand and chest and spread slowly through the rest of him. Ryn’s fingers moved back into joint and went straight and normal again. He felt his teeth regrow and move back into place.

The pain departed.

He sighed, freed from the agony he had been trapped in, utterly relieved, and opened his eyes.

Cid was panting. “Come on lad,” he said. “You’re needed.”