How Not to Poach a Unicorn

Twenty-Six

It took six men to do it, but Kish was eventually dragged in chains into a fairly barren chamber at the base of a large tower and heavily restrained. Her feet were chained to the floor and her arms strapped firmly into two posts which seemed to be specially made to serve that function. Her head was also strapped back so tightly that she could hardly blink. She struggled and spat but there was no escape.

Two soldiers dumped the boy's body, blade still embedded in his chest, on a stone slab in the same room. They were quickly ushered out by Mercutian, who sat and ogled his new prize for a time with his empty-eyed young partner listing in the shadows.

"What do you want with me, you old troll?" demanded Kish as she continued to struggle in vain.

"I want to own you," he said. "I want you to be my puppet, mindlessly leading your filthy people to oblivion." He smiled as though this was the most reasonable and pleasant of suggestions.

"You're crazy! I'd sooner die than submit to you!" she spat in his face.

"I know. That's what makes it so exciting. You're such a feisty one. It will be a pleasure to destroy your soul. It's a pity that I have to rush it." 

"How do you even know me? I've only seen you once before this!" she demanded.

"Oh, you simple barbarian." He patted her tenderly as one might a lost child. He stepped back and mumbled a couple of words. There was a subtle shift in lighting and stance and suddenly he appeared to be a completely different man — younger but more weathered, with dark braided hair instead of the silvery white; bent yet strong.

"Karle's tutor?" Kish immediately recognized the filthy shaman who had acted as her little brother's teacher and vizier after he ascended the throne. "It was you...."

"Of course it was me! Both your father and your older brother could have led an effective army against our prince. They had to be dealt with. The king was relatively easy to poison and Ulrat exceptionally easy to frame. I had hoped for his death as well, but his exile is adequate for my purposes."

"And what are your purposes? Do you want the throne for yourself ?" Kish was drawing blood as she struggled against her restraints.

"Simple girl." Mercutian was overflowing with condescension. "Now, before I tell you all this, I want you to know that I'm only doing it so you will know, deep down, what you are a part of, once I have taken your charming will away." He paused and considered for a moment. "My purposes are many, and far more interesting than ruling a country."

I have no interest in any thrones themselves. No. Leadership is far too time-consuming. The battle for the throne is mostly for the benefit of my daughter. You met her earlier. Quite a firecracker, isn't she?" He chuckled with a twisted fatherly pride. "No, my love is for research and I'm running low on resources. As the Prince said, this country is sick and the taxes have stopped flowing as they should. Good research is expensive and I can't hire the best thieves and explorers with the pittance that the current throne can afford. I need capital if I'm ever going to unlock the true mysteries of magic."

"Is that was he is, then?" Kish gestured with her eyes at the corpse on the slab "Research?"

"Oh, very much so." Mercutian grinned at the interest of an outsider in his work. "Tell you what. I'll be right back and then I'll tell you all about him." He bounced up some stairs with more pep than would be expected of such an old man and Kish began to wonder about what the wizard really looked like.

He returned in moments with a glass jar containing a single black beetle, about the size of a thumb. It was fairly uninteresting except for a long needle like protrusion on its head. "This, my dear, is going to be your new companion."