“She let the vorakh out. Killed a bunch of men at the stripping,” came a darker voice. “My cousin was one of them. If she’s alive and I find her—I’ll rip her fucking throat out.”
“I mean, sure—if she’s alive,” said the first soturion. “But personally, I’d rather join the raids. There’s more money there.”
I raised my eyebrows at Auriel. “Raids?” I mouthed.
He shrugged, and tilted his head, so he was still facing me, but watching the men in his peripheral vision.
“You know Bannan?” the first soturion went on. “He went on one. Picked up three vorakh. Made enough gold to take a year off.”
“A year?” asked a companion.
“How’d he know that’s what they were?” asked another.
The first soturion shrugged. “He just grabbed some mages and accused them. No one asked questions, just took his word. They didn’t let him join up with the task force—the ones really looking and testing.”
Testing? For vorakh? They couldn’t be doing that.
“Ugh,” said another. “I wouldn’t want to do it. Those snakes give me the damn creeps.”
My stomach dropped. Nahashim. They were testing innocent people with nahashim. Like they’d done to me. Gods.
“No,” said the first soturion, “you don’t need to mess with the snakes. They’re mainly for the higher-ups anyway. The rich ones, and the unfortunates who come across the check points. We don’t handle the beasts. Don’t need to.”
“No?” asked another.
“No. You just need an accusation. And if the accused bastard can’t afford the snake test, it’s your lucky day. You get paid.”
“I heard you get paid either way,” someone chuckled.
“Well now that’s tempting. I saw them snakes everywhere last week,” another soturion chimed in. “You ever see an exam done? The snake goes right inside you. Under your skin. Disgusting.”
The men burst into laughter.
My stomach turned. What the hell had happened in the last month? Since when was this a standard practice?
“The best is accusing a woman. You get to see her all naked and thrashing.”
My hands clenched into fists.
“Well they might be opening ranks on the task force soon,” said a new voice. “The testing’s disgusting, but Lord Tristan has it under control.”
They had Tristan leading this?
The first soturion barked. “Emperor’s dog always coming through loyal.”
“Actually,” a new soturion piped up, as he slammed a mug on the counter, several drops of beer spilling out. “I hear what they really need are guards for the prisons, people to build some more, too. They’re running out of space to hold the criminals.”
“Where are they building?” Yet another soturion had been drawn into the conversation, his hand on the hilt of his dagger, his black eyes eager.
“Bamaria. I mean, what used to be Bamaria anyway.”
Used to be? My stomach roiled. What the fuck did that mean?
“New prisons are popping up by the water in Ba–I mean, in southern New Korteria—nowhere to escape. They can build them fast there, they use magic with the labor. Hot as fuck—but I hear there’s a nice bonus for new recruits—the ones that get accepted.”
“I could use some extra money. A bonus sounds nice,” a new voice had joined. “I could definitely round some people up.”
All their auras were flaring, their pettiness, hatred, and greed felt tangible enough to make my stomach turn.
