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“Anything else to tell me?”
The man remained silent for a long moment before saying, “People think I should kill him, but Lomar is like a brother to me. I would do anything to help.”
“Even call on a witch,” she quipped.
“You are my last resort.”
“Then let us go see what I can do.”
This time no one stopped them as they headed for the dungeon and Fionna ignored the stares—of which there were many. The whispering ceased, though. Most likely because of the large brute by her side.
The dungeon itself resembled the ones rarely used in Mystic Keep. Made of stone with little windows which were more like narrow slits, enough to let in a bit of light and air. The warlord strode with purpose past the saluting soldiers who in turn eyed her, some leeringly. It made her want to do foolish things, like disintegrate their clothes, or plaster them with a rash.
She behaved.
Mostly. The guard who licked his lips suddenly grabbed at his very itchy crotch.
Trotting to keep up with the warlord’s rapid pace, she barely had time to see inside the cells with open doors. Only a few were closed and a glance between the bars showed men pacing.
“Do you have a lot of crime?” she asked. They didn’t keep prisoners often in Acca. Punishments tended to be more immediate and, in some cases, permanent. Some crimes had no forgiveness, like rape and murder.
“Little crime because it is well-known that rule breakers are swiftly apprehended and sentenced.”
“What is he in for?” She pointed at the cell they’d just passed with an elderly gent.
“Beating his wife.”
“You have a law against it?”
He paused to look at her. “Women are to be protected by their husbands not abused.”
“How does putting him in a cell ensure he doesn’t repeat the offense?”
“The cell is temporary. Given this is the second time he’s been arrested for it, and since his first beating failed to reform, he’ll be hung later today as an example.”
Harsh, but as someone who’d seen abuse in those who fled to the witches seeking asylum, she didn’t disapprove.
“What of the others?” she asked.
“We have one for public intoxication that resulted in property damage. Once he’s sobered up fully, he’ll be made to repair and pay restitution. There’s a traveler who was caught stealing from the shops once they closed at night. He’ll be executed alongside the wife beater. The last one is a rapist. We are waiting for the victim to recover that she might choose his method of execution and witness it.”
“Choose a method?” she couldn’t help querying.
“There are options from the quick and painless, to decapitation, to the tying of limbs to horses and stretching them until they tear. There’s the death by a thousand cuts. Hanging. Target practice.”
“Wow, that’s a lot of choice.”
“How do you handle severe crimes in Acca?”
“For bad things like rape and murder, we set them on fire.”
He nodded in approval. “Good deterrent. We don’t use fire mostly because a single spark in a dry month can turn quickly.”
They arrived in front of a cell guarded by four men, big and burly fellows wearing full armor. They punched their chests at the sight of their warlord.
“A man in a locked room with four soldiers to watch. You really think he’s dangerous,” she murmured.
“With reason,” his low reply. Then louder, “How has he been?”
