“Your suffering is not yet done,” he said, and shoved the man against the wall. “All of Vallessau will witness your execution, wretch. No noble sacrifice awaits you. No goddess will embrace your soul in comfort. The heavens belong to the God-Incarnate. Hell awaits the disloyal who refuse his grace. If you will not worship here in life, you will kneel and serve in death.”

Hozier leaned against the wall, a dazed look in his eye. Blood trickled down his neck from where his head had collided with the stone.

“I shall walk among green fields, blooming flowers, and an eternal song,” he said. “No priest of your hateful church awaits me there, only my beloved wife. But you? The Vagrant comes for you. His blades lurk in the shadows, and I hold faith they will spill your blood before the spring’s thaw. Your soul will drown in the Heldeep, and lost in its darkness, you will wail and thrash as wretched Dagon consumes all that remains of your vile being. When I am in the eternal lands, I will pray for you… if I even remember your name.”

Magus shut the prison cell door and stormed down the corridor. Dozens of men and women were crammed into the cells on either side of him, some weeping, some sulking, and a rare few conversing quietly with one another. Magus had worked over many, his results always identical. It was uncanny. In none of his previous campaigns had he encountered such devotion in the defeated populace, especially years after the initial invasion and the public execution of their deities. Whatever made up these Thanese people, it was of a most stubborn, maddening sort.

The frustration could not last in the face of his overall mood. The raid on the mansion was the most significant blow to Thanet’s insurgency since it had begun in earnest months ago. And according to the most recent letter of his informant, another great victory hovered in the distance, waiting for him to reach out and take it. The excitement put a bounce in his step he’d not had since Soma ran the god Endarius through with his spear.

What actually could threaten his mood was Sinshei vin Lucavi waiting at the far end of the prison, a blazing torch above her casting gloomy shadows. Her face was perfectly calm, her voice passive, but disgust and contempt radiated off her like unseen heat from a bonfire.

“Unable to make them talk?” she asked.

“How could you tell?” he muttered sarcastically.

“I could try with my magic. The sting of a heavenly sword is most unique.”

He shook his head. His shield waited for him beside the stairway, and he lifted its comforting weight onto his arm.