“I hope you fall into the deepest chasm in the storm god’s twisted lair and burn for all eternity,” Syla told him.
Jhiton slanted a long look at Yavaron, who could only spread her arms.
“Her moon-mark may defend her from this as much as it does from physical and magical interrogation,” Jhiton mused.
Hope crept into Syla’s eyes, but she looked like she didn’t know. She was feeling the effects of the drug in some way. Vorik could tell.
“Maybe try asking her something she has less built-in reticence about answering,” Yavaron suggested. “It may help along the process. Ask her something like her name or favorite color.”
Jhiton gazed at Syla. “Do you love Vorik?”
Syla blinked. So did Vorik, and he felt like he should punch Jhiton. But… he also caught himself leaning forward, wanting to know the answer.
“I…” Syla said. “Maybe,” she whispered, glancing back at him.
“That’snother favorite color, General,” Yavaron said dryly.
Ignoring her, Jhiton glanced at Vorik. It crossed his mind that his brother might have thought to use Syla’s love to his advantage, if she’d admitted to it. Vorik scowled at him, glad she’d given a vague answer.
Unfazed, Jhiton asked Syla, “What’s your name?”
“Syla Moonmark.” As soon as the words came out, she frowned at him. Realizing she was answering the questions and not liking it?
Jhiton nodded. “Your favorite color?”
“Periwinkle. Did you know that I lobbied to have the healers’ robes for the Kingdom temples changed to that color? The dark-blue ones aresodrab. Our patients must think we’re personifications of death when we walk in. Thatcan’tput them in a good healing mood. Periwinkle is so much perkier. Admittedly, it would be harder to clean. People bleed on you sometimes, you know. It’s not their fault, of course. The dark colors hide stains, I suppose. Did you know that one of my second cousins is a chemist? She uses the power of her moon-mark to study existing substances and combine them into newones. She wrote to me about a bleaching powder derived from… I believe it was chlorine, yes, and said it could be used to get stains out of white materials, like sheets. Maybe our robes could also be turned to white.”
Jhiton hardly ever looked surprised, and that wasn’t the precise expression he wore now, but his mouth drooped farther and farther open as Syla continued. Vorik smiled, having heard her go on about something she was passionate about a couple of times, though this was probably induced by the drug. Maybe lowering her inhibitions also made her chatty.
“What’s your favorite hobby?” Jhiton looked wary as he asked the question and glanced at Yavaron.
She could only shrug back.
“Oh, I adore all things related to herbalism, pharmacology, and the history of healing. I collect old books and antique medical tools, you know. My cousin Teyla studies ancient civilizations, but I’m mostly interested in the practices of healing they had and the tools they made. I love that which is related to healing and helping people.”
Yavaron sighed, looking wistfully at Syla, and Vorik suspected she also felt regret about being a part of this. She was as dedicated to helping people as anyone and probably didn’t care for any of this.
“I had collected so many wondrous specimens from past times,” Syla continued, “but then the stormers invaded the capital and destroyed the temple and my room. I lost almost everything and so many friends and my whole family too.” She hiccuped, tears filling her eyes. This time, with the drug impacting her, she didn’t blink them away.
Vorik had to blink away tears of his own as sympathy welled within him.
Syla seemed to remember that Jhiton wasoneof those stormers, and she squinted at him, a hint of suspicion entering her eyes.
“Any other hobbies?” Jhiton doubtless wanted to ask about the shielders, but he had to be waiting until he knew the drug would prompt her to answer.
“I like to read about all manner of topics, and in the summer I adore swimming. I’ve always been such a klutz on land, but everything is smoother in the water. I almost feel graceful sometimes.” Her suspicion faded, and she brightened when she said, “Oh, and Vorik has said he’ll teach me to juggle. I’m sure I’ll have no aptitude for it, but I think he would like it if I tried. He gave me some balls. He thinks it’ll help my eyesight. Well, not exactly that, but my peripheral vision. Yes, that’s what it was. He’s nice to care, isn’t he? And when he smiles at me, and his eyes are warm, I get all mushy inside.” She giggled. “Mushy isn’t a very good word, is it?”
That giggle startled Vorik. Poor Syla had been in mourning since he’d met her, and he’d never heard her giggle. But the drug…
“It’s a fine word. Vorik is mushy too.” Jhiton arched an eyebrow at Vorik.
Vorik scowled at him.
“He was wondering,” Jhiton said to Syla, “where the shielder for Bogberry Island is.”
Vorik’s scowl deepened. This was the whole point of capturing and questioning Syla, but Vorik hated that his brother was trying to use her feelings for him against her. And dread rather than triumph filled him when she answered.
“Oh, it’s in the salt mine at the core of the island. In the back of the original tunnel, behind a relief carved of the sea god.”
