20.13

Hours later in the dungeon of Castle Blackpool, Dirk and Zyrdicia stared curiously at their latest captive's limp body. Marko hung by one arm from the ceiling. His sword arm was in no state to support the man's considerable body weight. The molten steel had burned through most of the arm's flesh, fusing with the bone.

"He's conscious," Zyrdicia mouthed silently, her eyes glittering playfully. The fool thought merely hanging there would cause his captors to lose interest.

Dirk arched in eyebrow. His lips curled slowly, understanding the new game immediately. "My dear, I'm quite certain you have already divined what he was doing in Geshna."

"He had hoped to meet with certain spies from the castle there. Curiously, his contacts failed to show up for the meeting."

"Ah. How unforgivably rude that I failed to send word to Camerand that the spies are all dead. I might have to saved him the trouble of the visit."

"No, he would have come anyway. Baaldorf sent him to Geshna to find out the source of the North's mysterious new wealth."

"It seems that mystery found him first," Dirk crooned appreciatively. He draped his arm around Zyrdicia's shoulders. "Tell me more of Baaldorf's orders to him."

"He left before they distributed the food we sent. He still thinks we are planning to meet with them to discuss peace. His reconnaissance was to assist them in their negotiations."

Dirk clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "Poorly informed servants are such a nuisance. And what does our celebrated captive know of the South's defenses?"

They both noted the fingertips of Marko's good hand tense slightly in the shackles above his head. The man otherwise kept up his pretense of unconsciousness.

"Your spies were only partially right. They were garrisoning the last of their forces in Castle Baaldorf to survive the coming siege - but they weren't all there yet. They are still scattered between the Western Perimeter and the Tronin border." She frowned, pursuing the unseen thread in Marko's mind as he struggled to hide it from her by conjuring thoughts of ducks and gophers.

Zyrdicia blinked in surprise at the cascade of animal images. A moment later, she recovered the psychic trail, burrowing down a rodent hole in his mind to pursue it. Marko's limited gifts from the Wizard Traquil were no match for a mind honed by dealings with Sephiroth. She disposed of the decoys quickly and methodically, unimpressed by his efforts.

She turned from her mental prey to the man standing next to her. "Justin Greystone is gathering them. And--"

"Tell me!"

"There are a hundred men, hidden in the Crystal Woods. They had planned to use the tunnel from Baaldorf secretly to assault Castle Tronin, while you were distracted -" A broad smile spread across Zyrdicia's lips, as she added, "With your coronation and new bride."

"When?"

"When are you distracted by me? Often. Generally whenever I want," she answered matter-of-factly. "Certainly in my temple tonight. And then there is all the time spent in the dungeon, plus every time you fall asleep with me lately--"

"--You underestimate my capacity for concentration," he interrupted, a note of challenge in his voice.

"Do I?" She arched a brow, then smiled mischievously. Her leather-clad body slithered against his. Gloved fingertips slid sensuously along the contour of his swordbelt, lingering on its buckle for a moment before gliding down the edge of his codpiece, then around his hips to settle on his posterior.

"The attack?" Dirk demanded, meeting her gaze unflinchingly. Despite his pretense of calm, a flush of color in his cheeks betrayed his effort to resist her overture. He snatched each her hands off his body, crushing them as he held them out away from his torso.

"They suspended the plan after you punished the civilian population for their last indiscretions against your holdings. They aren't sure whether you really intended that devastation or whether your troops were just out of control. In any case, they don't dare move against you until they know more. Your present unpredictability worries them. Though they hope the peace talks will buy them time to assess the situation," she answered, her hips grinding up against him.

"Zyrdicia, do you know-" He paused involuntarily when he felt her tongue glide along his carotid artery.

Her lips moved to his ear, and she whispered smugly, "Yes, I know."

She wriggled her fingers free of his grip, then tugged at his hands, placing them squarely upon her breasts. She kissed his neck.

"-Know where this strike force is hidden?" he growled impatiently, frustrated less by the pause in the flow of information than by her behavior.

"Mm...yes, I know even more than he does about it."

"More?"

"I know the way every man in the force will die."

"Lovely," Dirk crooned, relieved of the need to plot a surprise assault on the surprise assault force with the limited mental faculties he had available at the moment. Satisfied with the information, he finally reached up and gathered a handful of her hair in one hand. He jerked her head back roughly before kissing her.

When he relented, to demonstrate his focus, he demanded, "Is there anything else you discovered from him that I should know?"

"I discovered interrogating prisoners this way is marvelously fun," she grinned.

"I'm well aware of that. Your lack of self-discipline is quite obvious," he chided playfully, biting her chin softly. "Is there anything from his mind I should know before he dies?"

"He's hoping I will distract you some more now so that you won't kill him."

"Apparently he is unaware of my preferred form of distraction with you. We will remedy that shortly."

"And he thinks we will have no need to torture him now that I've pulled it all out of his head."

"What an absurd notion!" Dirk scoffed. He kissed her again, fully enjoying the moment now. As their tongues probed, he freed one hand from her body to grasp the monocle. Without pausing in his amorous engagement, he absent-mindedly aimed the lens of the monocle at the captive vassal, sending a green ray of magical energy through the limp body.

"Aaaaahhhh!" Marko yelled as fresh pain flooded his body, ending the pretense of unconsciousness.

"Mm, what a romantic sound," Zyrdicia purred between kisses. "Make him scream louder!"

A second and third blast from the monocle brought loud shrieks from the captive. The fourth blast brought only a rasping gasp as Marko nearly lost consciousness again.

"The musical instrument is defective," Zyrdicia frowned, glaring at the captive disapprovingly.

"Typically worthless peasant manufacture. I trust his prince will not disappoint us the same way."

Marko perked up at the mention of Erik Greystone. "You'll never get him, Dirk," he croaked, consciousness flooding back.

"Vassal," the new king smiled, "I trust you rested well."

"Actually, I could use a few more hours of sleep. The beds here are a little lumpy."

Zyrdicia disentangled herself from the king's arms to approach the guest. She traced a gloved fingertip along the thick scar along one side of Marko's neck, where she had very nearly sliced open his throat a half-year earlier.

"Marko, I believe you are already acquainted with my wife, Zyrdicia," Dirk offered cordially.

"What, did you divorce your musty, old Wizard and exchange him for a newer, meaner model, Blackpool?"

"Something like that. One who is also both more attractive and more effective," Dirk winked.

Zyrdicia whirled and glared at her husband, annoyed by the comparison. "So when exactly was the last time Vector gave you a -"

"-- Enough!" Dirk warned sternly, interrupting her.

"What's the matter, Dirk? Problems controlling your pet demon?" Marko teased from his confinement.

The king turned and regarded the pudgy face of his captive with an air of utter contempt. "Hardly."

"I am not a demon," Zyrdicia protested. She slammed her leather-covered fist into the captive's face, shattering part of a cheekbone to demonstrate that point.

"I'm afraid this particular pet tends to lash out at boorish strangers with rather devastating consequences, vassal," Dirk advised, amused. "Tell me, what do you think of the pet now?"

"She hits like a girl," Marko replied ironically. "But then, last I heard, so do you."

A brief chortle of laughter escaped Zyrdicia before Dirk silenced it with a venomous glare.

"It was funny!" she argued defensively.

Her reply met with only a relentless, cold stare from her husband. She chose to ignore him and concentrate on Marko.

"I torture like a girl too, Piggy," she smiled, circling around the captive to get a better look at his damaged arm. "Or hadn't you heard?"

"Henry Stefford was a good friend of mine. He killed himself a few months ago," Marko said grimly, well aware of what she had done to the southern knight on her very first foray into Castle Blackpool's torture chamber.

"What wonderful news!" Zyrdicia smiled triumphantly. "Remote-control murder!"

"So what did Vector use to conjure you up - swam beast corpses, grox blood and dragon bones?"

"You really believe Dirk and Vector used magic to summon me?"

"It's not like he could even get a date on his own," the vassal snorted. "Everybody knows for Dirk to get married, he must have made Vector mail order she-devil."

"You shouldn't believe everything you hear," she noted, running her fingertips along the burned flesh of Marko's arm, admiring metal now fused to it along it. "You know, if this isn't amputated, you'll die of gangrene in a few days."

"Thanks for the concern. I'll take my chances."

Still standing behind Marko, Zyrdicia looked over the shorter man's shoulder at Dirk. "Since Greystone survived the feast we sent, we should send a second gift. Let's cut off Piggy's arms at the elbow and send them to his master."

Dirk nodded agreeably, "Once Erik knows I have his vassal in the dungeon, he will come here to try to rescue him. Only to find a suitable trap awaits."

"You tried the lure-Erik-into-a-trap plan once before, Dirk, and it didn't work out too well for you. The horses Justin brought into your home left a heck of a mess last time," Marko gurgled confidently, one eye already swelling shut from the force of the blow to his face.

Seeing the mocking look on his wife's face, Dirk knew she had already gleaned the story from Marko's head. Erik had easily rescued the vassal from Castle Blackpool less than a year ago. He was embarrassed to have her learn of the defeat.

He snapped, "Relying on Vector and Bethel proved to be a mistake. I trust you will not dare to disappoint me."

"Do I ever?"

Dirk said nothing. A knowing silence punctuated his glare.

"The Edict doesn't count! That isn't my fault," she scowled, understanding the unspoken implication immediately. Zyrdicia turned away from Dirk to end the discussion on that subject. She concentrated her attentions on their captive, instead.

She warned, "Piggy, this time Erik will arrive to find his beloved vassal already dead."

"Knowing that it was all in vain will make Erik's own death all the more bitter," Dirk smiled warmly.

"Shall we call someone to prepare Erik's next gift?"

Dirk regarded her thoughtfully. She was once again comfortable in the dungeon. He had succeeded marvelously with her training. "Cut off his arms yourself," he suggested casually, watching her expression carefully.

She blinked in surprise. She knew Dirk trusted her enough not to restrain her anymore down here. She had no idea he trusted her enough actually to draw blood herself. "But-"

"Do it!" he ordered firmly, his eyes blazing in anticipation.

20.14

The king dispatched the package to Castle Baaldorf at once. Marko's severed forearms, neatly shackled together and wrapped with a purple bow, made a grisly impression against the iron box's black cloth lining. There could be no question as to whom the hands belonged - the one which had not been damaged by the molten steel bore a small gold ring on its middle finger bearing the Greystone family crest, undoubtedly a symbol of fealty. It also had a distinctive scar along the top of the hand.

Marko's death had been quite a spectacle to behold - even by Blackpool standards. Once Zyrdicia had felt the pleasure of causing blood flow again, she had been too delighted to stop. Dirk had let her go, enjoying the pure, unadulterated glee in her expression.

He had watched her closely, observing her reaction to the feel and smell of the blood carefully. A brilliant fire burned her eyes. A hand upon her shoulder was enough now to snap her out of her fixation on the blood. He was pleased. Twice he had calmly ordered her to stop, testing his control. She had complied instantly, displeased and annoyed - but obedient. She had waited for his assent before continuing. Marko's death was only a small source of pleasure to him compared to that.

In the end, Zyrdicia had cut the man's still-beating heart from his body. Her victim had been fully conscious during the procedure, though paralyzed with her magic to keep him from thrashing about. It had taken several moments for Marko to die. She had used those moments to show the dying man his own heart, fixated on the delicious sight.

"I want to eat it!" she whispered intently, staring at Dirk with enormous child-like eyes.

"His blood?"

"His heart!"

"You disappoint me. I had thought you could better control-"

"--Not like this!" she laughed. "I want it served for dinner."

20.14.1

A group of kitchen servants delivered the night's meal to a private salon. The servants lifted the silver covers off of various dishes in silent efficiency. Dirk peered curiously at the steaming contents of one of the entrees. He heard Zyrdicia sniff the air across the room.

"You really intend to eat that?" he wondered, arching an eyebrow.

"Yes!" With a fork, she speared a piece of Marko's heart from a pool of sherry sauce. She placed it on her tongue and chewed it delicately, savoring the morsel.

Her appetite surprised him. It had happened several times now after a bout of blood hunger. If she was not exhausted from the play in the dungeon, she tended to be ravenous afterward.

"You can't tell me you have never eaten someone you've killed!" she grinned.

"I roasted one of my generals on a spit once for losing a battle, but it never occurred to me to eat the man."

"Just as well. A general's heart would be tough and bitter-tasting. Only the pure ones are appetizing. The moralistic, obsessed, obnoxious men who want to save the world - their hearts are the delicacies. Consuming the source of their hope. Sinking my teeth into a vessel once filled with love. The meat tastes so . . . satisfying."