She didn't look up; she knew them all by rote.The thudding pulse of the club above muted down to a remote beat more palpable than audible; she listened, head cocked: for long seconds, to tingling silence... then a popping crack, mingling quickly with a garbled wail; both sounds subdued by distance, and still her heart skipped into high gear, pumping adrenaline into her bloodstream.Turning the corner, she stepped into the underground maze of wide corridors, flanked by spotlit alcoves sheltering benches, racks, chains, rope, standard cuff attachments; each occupied recess playing to a small ring of mostly respectfully silent spectators standing just outside the pooled light, and all patrolled by a couple of beefy enforcers in geek masks, the only ones to look at her as she passed.At the end of the hall she stopped: the alcove to her left had no audience and a single male occupant: jet hair and eyes, broad shoulders tilted against the back wall, tattooed arms crossed over a well-muscled. .. From the hallway outside came the muffled sound of voices, coming closer; Iosoan did not turn his head. Then the door burst open and two figures entered the room."My lord!" called the boy who entered first. His clothing was soaked and his skin was glistening with rain. Water dripped from his body as he stood in the doorway; a trail of wetness led backwards into the hallway."You... cannot... come... in!" said the girl who followed the boy in, tugging angrily but ineffectively at his elbow. To Iosoan she added, "My lord, I'm sorry... I tried..." It's alright, Hanna. Thank you," said Iosoan, raising a hand. "Let him give his message."Iosoan studied the boy, his face, his eyes. The conditioning was obvious; the boy had a message to give, and he was driven to give it; he would not stop, not rest until the words had been told. The last messenger - the one who bore the news of the princess - had tried to fight the conditioning, tried to avoid delivering such terrible news, tried and.
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