She waited, knowing that Aleah would make her appearance soon. She was not disappointed. The light patterns shifted and drew away, and then her vision was blocked by voluminous blue material. Her vision hazed, then cleared, and she realized she was looking at the royal blue gown of Aleah herself.

A white hand cupped Wys’s chin and forced her head up until she was staring into the flat gray eyes of the sorceress.

“Good,” came the melodic voice that was beautiful and terrible at the same time. “I was beginning to think you would not wake.”

“You knew I was not dead,” said Wys. She had seen the potion sitting on a table next to the sorceress.

“Of course I did. But neither are you alive. A temporary paradox that will be solved soon enough.”

“I’m waiting.”

Aleah smirked. “Oh, no, it’s not that easy, my dear. First I must have information. Only then will I give relief.”

“Your worst torture methods will not move me. I will say nothing.”

Aleah’s smirk grew wider, becoming a satisfied grin, as if Wys has said exactly what the sorceress expected. “You say that without having ever experienced my worst,” she said, “and without knowing how much a fool you are.” From within the folds of her gown she produced a vial that held maroon liquid. “This is a special potion that I have made for this purpose. The liquid is nothing more than water. The color comes from finely ground pieces of crystal.” She paused. “Blood crystal. A sip will kill you, but it is a very slow death. And very painful, as I’m sure you can imagine.”

Wys held her chin up high. She would bear the pain until she was dead. “I’m waiting,” she said again.

Aleah chuckled. “Oh, I don’t think I’ll give you this just yet,” she said. “I know well the kind of training you received. I have less fatal, if not less painful, methods of making you talk.”

Wys decided to say nothing more. Anything she could have said was lost on this woman, who knew the young priestess-mage’s abilities as well as Wys herself did. It was better to remain silent. Her death would not be an easy one, she realized, but she would remain steadfast until then.

Aleah drew one long finger lovingly over her potion before setting it aside. She did nothing but watch Wys for several moments. Wys kept her head high, the very picture of honor and bravery in the face of death.

“You came alone,” Aleah finally said.

“Yes.”

“You are not stupid. Why would you have done such a rash thing?”

Wys said nothing. She had fulfilled her reason for coming, and soon it wouldn’t even matter.

“Tell me,” Aleah purred, gently stroking Wys’s face while simultaneously commanding the blood crystal around Wys’s chains to tighten and sting more sharply. Wys gasped in spite of herself, and Aleah laughed. “Is that all the pain you can take, little one? Then I’m afraid you are in for a worse time than you thought. You are not so strong, after all. I should not have expected more from a girl foolish enough to come here alone and unarmed. A pity, really. It was nice to think that for once I may have the challenge of breaking a strong mind.”

Wys still said nothing. Silence was the only power that remained to her.

Aleah drew back, her grin sliding away. She regarded Wys with a face that seemed made of stone. “Or perhaps not so foolish. You seem eager to die. Why is that?”

Wys remained silent.

“Why?” Aleah asked again. “You put up no fight upon being captured. You willingly hope for death. Why?” When Wys did not answer, she snarled. “You will tell me now!” Wys cried out as wave after wave of pain hit her. The chains tightened so much that her hands and feet numbed. Still she did not speak.

“I will not play this game,” Aleah muttered. “This makes no sense. What are you up to?”

Wys heard the bones in her wrist crack as the chains tightened even further. She had never before encountered pain like this, but her head was still clear enough that she managed to keep her mouth closed, though every part of her being screamed at her to say something, anything, to stop the pain.

Aleah’s eyes narrowed. “So that is your weakness, is it?” she said, and Wys realized with horror that the sorceress had picked up on her thoughts. She had only time to marvel that the woman was powerful enough to wield such dark magic before the light patterns on the wall began to move in strange and wonderful patterns. She was compelled to watch, helpless to turn away or close her eyes. The patterns moved up and down, side to side, and in directions that Wys could not name. They weaved in and out between themselves, sliding across the wall faster and faster until they became a blur and a horrible, terrible pain exploded in Wys’s head, drowning out all rational thought. She screamed then, an unending cry that seemed to fill the small room. Underneath it, Aleah laughed.

“Why do you wish death?” the sorceress demanded.

All resolve had vanished. “Because it is my charge!” Wys screamed. Abruptly the pain stopped as Aleah drew back in surprise. Wys hung her head, panting. Now that her head had cleared, self-loathing at her weakness filled her. She should not have said anything.

“Your charge?” said Aleah, still standing back as if she was afraid Wys might attack her. “Are you saying that your charge is to sacrifice yourself to me?”

Wys nodded slightly. The damage was done, and she was too full of weakness and self-hatred to salvage the pieces of this mess.

“How . . .” began Aleah. She turned away, contemplating the ghastly drawings on the wall. She muttered something unintelligible and turned back to her prisoner.

“What can the Guardians mean by this?” she asked. “Wasting a priestess-mage with such a charge?”

“No one knows the minds of the Guardians,” Wys recited automatically. “They stand only for . . .”

“They stand against me!” Aleah cried, her eyes darkening in rage. “They stand for nothing else if not my destruction.” She eyed Wys warily. “The only reason they would sacrifice one of their own is if . . . but no. It cannot be.” She began pacing around the room, each step more agitated than the last.

“I must have missed something,” she muttered loud enough for Wys to hear. “The Guardians would only do this if they thought they had stumbled upon some way to defeat me, to take away my power. This is some trick that I have not foreseen. What are they up to?” She whirled and glared at Wys. “What is the purpose behind this charge?” she said. “What do they think will happen after I kill you?”

“I don’t know,” said Wys truthfully.

“You must know! Why else would you allow your own death?”

“It is my charge,” said Wys. If the sorceress had truly once been one of the Temple, this was all the explanation needed.