Wyrm sat in his cell and waited. He didn’t know what to expect. He didn’t know why they were treating him like this. Why not kill him and be done with it? He guessed they wanted information. There wasn’t much to tell. With Cramda dead, the only one that might take over was Morcri but he was dead too. He put the copper bands back on. It felt right. It was familiar. He’d worn them for so long. After a time, Shunati returned, followed by another man, his father. Wyrm sat up straighter, feeling like he did when Cramda and Morcri entered. “Hello,” his father said. “I’m Mishtali, your father.” Mishtali? Wyrm had heard that name. Shunati made two wooden chairs by the bed and sat in one. Mishtali frowned and the other one change to an armchair. “Hello,” Wyrm said. “Why are you collared?” Mishtali asked. He looked at the elf. “Did you do that?” The elf frowned and looked confused. “Sorry, did you collar him?” It was only when he switched to Menthanlan to speak to Shunati that Wyrm realized he’d spoken in Ertonian first. “No. He was wearing them earlier. I took them off,” the healer said. “I put them back on,” Wyrm admitted. “I feel more secure with them on.” “Did Cramda always have you wear them?” Mishtali asked. Wyrm nodded. “Whenever I was in here, in case I fell asleep.” “In here? Is this where you lived?” Wyrm nodded. “This is my cell.” “Were you locked in here?” Shunati asked. “No.” “So you could come and go whenever you wanted to?” Shunati asked. Wyrm shook his head. “I was to stay in here unless Cramda or Morcri needed me.” “So you wore these bindings most of the time?” Mishtali asked. “I’ll have Nim check his magic,” Shunati said. “Though, if there was any damage, the trance should’ve helped.” “Nim? Do you mean Nimitinas?” Wyrm asked. He cringed, expecting one of them to hit him. Mishtali nodded. “The tall, dark-haired man in the catacombs.” “Cramda was looking for him, and someone named Dentrias. One of them was an Augmenter that Cramda’s sister, Chapado, trained. He was confused about which one. He thought she changed his name, but didn’t know to what.” Mishtali nodded. “We know. I was a prisoner of Nor’than before he was killed. He was trying to get Nim too.” Wyrm realized that was where he’d heard his father’s name when Cramda had scried Nor’than. “If he had, Cramda would have brought me to stop him.” “And you would’ve had to face an immortal powered by an Augmented black dragon.” “Fortunately, it never happened. Was that Ann who took care of them?” Wyrm cringed again. He shouldn’t have asked that. Neither seemed to care. His father nodded. “She did, but she had an augmenter of her own.” “Who?” Shades, he was begging to be hit. “The man who put you in a trance. You’ll meet him when you wake,” Mishtali said. Wyrm nodded. He waited for the next question, but it didn’t come. He wondered if they expected him to keep telling them things. He didn’t know what else could interest them. “What else do you want to know?” He’d tell them anything he could. He might have been born in Ertonia but he no longer felt loyalty to them. And if he gave them the information willingly, they might treat him a little better. Mishtali frowned. “What do you mean?” “I’m an enemy prisoner. You want information. You’re here to question me.” “I’m here because you’re my son. I came for a visit.” Wyrm frowned. Mishtali turned to Shunati. “You didn’t explain this?” “I did,” the elf insisted. “You don’t speak Ertonian. Maybe he didn’t understand.” He turned back to Wyrm and spoke in Ertonian. “Wyrm, you are a prisoner, but we’re not here because of that. You’re my son, my family. I want to get to know you. You’re not going to be questioned for information. Cramda was killed and his followers were defeated. Those who survived are being arrested by Morina or the senate.” “Morina is a traitor,” Wyrm spat. “No, she’s not. Cramda was. He was trying to take over.” Wyrm nodded. “He said the senate had lost control of its people. And he was going to make things right.” “That’s not what he was doing. He was going to take over Ertonia, but he wasn’t going to stop there. He was going to use the army to exterminate all mortal mages, Ertonian or otherwise. Anyone else would become a slave.” Wyrm shook his head. “No, that’s his sister’s lies.” “No, Morina confirmed it, but I heard that from Nor’than. I was his prisoner for five hundred years.” “If you don’t need my information, why am I still alive? You already have a White Wyrm to use.” Mishtali growled and Wyrm cringed. “We don’t use people. You’re here because you were arrested for attacking the king. You’re waiting for your trial. King Emeton won’t sentence anyone without a trial. And he rarely sentences a child to death. “We’re keeping you asleep because we don’t know a way to confine you that you couldn’t break out of. Unfortunately, because of this, the trial will need to be delayed. Those required to be at the trial amount to more people than Shunati can bring in alone. We’ll have to wait until more healers are available. Healing takes precedence to trial.” Wyrm nodded. He was relieved that they were treating him so well. “What will happen to me when I’m found guilty?” “If you’re found guilty, Morina will work with the Senate on a punishment. Until then, you and I can visit.” Wyrm nodded again. “You speak Ertonian quite well. Did you learn it from Nor’than?” He ventured. His dad didn’t seem to mind if he asked a few questions. Mishtali shook his head. “My grandparents taught me. They worked with Chapado and Cramda on Tricon and they learned it from them.” “What’s Tricon?” “That’s the island where I’m from.” They visited a while longer before Shunati reminded them he had other responsibilities. They said their goodbyes and Mishtali promised to visit again. Wyrm lay down once they were gone. He was glad they weren’t questioning him or planning to execute him outright. But he was afraid to relax. They could be lying. *** When Shunati and Mishtali became aware of their surroundings, they found Emeton and Pt’this waiting for them. “Is everything okay?” Mishtali asked, suddenly worried about Thailyn. “We were going to ask you that,” Pt’this told him. “You were in there for quite a while.” “Time moves differently in people’s minds,” Shunati reminded them. “How’s he doing in there?” Emeton asked. “He’s scared and confused. Cramda lied to him extensively. He’s starting to see that. But he doesn’t trust us,” Mishtali told them. “Thanks for the diagnosis, Jo.” Pt’this grinned. Mishtali growled at his insolence. Pt’this growled right back. Mishtali looked at him in surprise. “You released me from my apprenticeship, remember?” Mishtali nodded, though he was still surprised. Few stood up to him. “I do agree. He’s going to need Jo’s help,” he finally said. “Jo’s in no condition to work with anyone now,” Shunati warned. Jo was a friend from Earth and Nim’s wife. She had been a counselor back on Earth. And when she married him, she’d been hired to do similar there in Sen-gan, working with the abandoned children. Unfortunately, she’d been one of those captured by Cramda. She’d also been abducted by Nor’than a couple of years ago. She was struggling with it all. She and Nim wouldn’t get out of touching distance from each other. Emeton nodded. “I agree. We’ll get Wyrm the help he needs, but we should wait for the hags.” The hags were the wives of Darkham. They were called hags, as a play on their clan name Hagry, not as an accurate description of them. Nor did they fit the nicknames their husband gave them, Wench and Minx. They were sweet, compassionate women who’d developed their own form of counseling to help their husband’s patients who had problems with trauma. They had been visiting family in the dwarf kingdom, but Darkham had tricked them to join him in Sen-gan by claiming he had found a third wife. He couldn’t legally marry anyone without consent from his existing spouses so they were coming to stop it, or so they thought.