"Now that I'm here, my orders are the ones that matter." Ark shoved a folded piece of paper at him. "Take me to the prisoner."
Obrad quickly scanned the contents. Underneath the pronouncement was Malick's signature, and seal; A knot of three interlocking rings. It was the same symbol Ark wore around his neck, the sign of the Executioners and their authority.
Obrad gave a stiff nod and mumbled, "She's, um, she's this way. Downstairs."
Ark followed through the house and down the cellar steps. The basement was a single windowless room with a dirt floor. A pair of coffins sat against one wall, the lids askew. Guards were scattered around. Three played cards, a female fiddled with a transistor radio. Two more were lost in conversation. Seven? Seven guards for this? Seven guards to watch over
