“The priests must have beaten him badly,” Mel said.
Aramis could tell that as well. The man was covered in blood and bruises. “I wonder who he is, and why they brought him here?”
Mel shrugged. “There’s no telling when it comes to the followers of Mordum.”
Aramis tried to get his hands loose from the ropes again. He grunted in pain as they ripped his skin open. He gave up again and sagged against the pole, defeated. Mel was staring at him. “We’re going to die here, aren’t we?” he asked.
“Of course not,” Mel answered. “Edria will aid us.”
Some of the priests that brought the new prisoner returned. One of them was carrying a curved sword. They approached the battered man and began to question him.
“Where is he?” one of them asked.
The man groaned lowly. Aramis wasn’t even sure the man
