Time passed slowly in the dark. Annika whispered her litany of protection through cracked lips, though if the Pancreator heard her, He gave no sign. As hateful as it was to admit, Engel evidently knew his business. The silver chains around her wrists were too tight for her to slip them, try though she might, through every iteration of Prana Bindu she knew she wasn't able to contort her hands or feet enough to slip so much as an inch. Attempts to break free with her psychic gifts were equally fruitless. The barrier Engel had erected was like a globe of water that surrounded her. Lash though she tried she could no more break it than she could shatter an ocean. Dark shapes flickered half seen in the gloom, shapes that were her own yet not. Perhaps, she could surrender to her Dark Twin? Perhaps she could succeed where Annika had failed. If Orion was already dead then...

A sudden groan in the darkness followed by a blistering oath broke her out of her bleak reverie. He had imagined she was alone down here but it appeared she was not. There was a rattling of chains, hatefully familiar, of to her right and then a muffled thud.

“May the Pancreater burn his marrow,” spat a voice in the darkness, oddly familiar despite the strange circumstances.

“Hello?” Annika called out, her voice emerging as a ragged gasp. It had been a long time since she had anything to eat and drink, and though her recent meditations shielded her somewhat from the effects of that, they were fast fading. The voice fell instantly silent and the noise ceased so completely that for a moment she thought she had imagined it.

“Hello,” she repeated trying to force her eyes to pierce the darkness. There was an unmistakable sigh.

“I should have expected to find you here heretic,” the voice replied wearily. Annika’s eyes opened wide.

“Mobian?” she demanded incredulously hardly able to fathom what the Avestii was doing in the dungeon.

“Do not befoul my name with your lips witch,” the voice snarled from the darkness.

“You should have killed me, if I get free of here I will see that you go to the stake for this,” Mobian growled. Annika was momentarily nonplussed until she realised that she was as invisible to Mobian as she was to him.

“I am a prisoner here,” she called, omitting the ‘you fool’, that formed in her mind.

“Spare me your pathetic rus witch,” the Avestii replied. Annika responded by rattling her chains, the best indication she could think of to assure the other priest of her predicament.

“An old trick,” he responded, though she thought his voice had lost some of its assurance. Annika heroically resisted the urge to grind her teeth.

“Well, why don’t you help me figure out a way to escape and then you can turn the tables on me,” she replied sarcastically. There was a long pause and for a moment she thought the other priest might have passed out.

“Acceptable,” he said at last.

“The Pancreator be thanked that your head isn’t quite solid granite,” she replied tartily.

“Do not make me regret agreeing to this,” Mobian growled. Annika briefly described how she had been bound, omitting any mention of the runic circle as likely to arouse too much suspicion without adding any useful information. Mobian was less certain of his own position, having been unconscious when they bought him down. 

“You were an advisor to the Duke, why did Engel turn on you?” she asked once they had exhausted their meager options for the moment. Mobian huffed irritably and Annika could visualise his nostrils flaring with outrage.

“I thought the Duke was doing the Pancreator’s work,” Mobian admitted after a long moment, “cleansing pagans is a sacred duty after all.” Annika remembered her own assurances to Orion that the Pancreator had formed the pagan as surely as the faithful but she saw no benifit in a theological debate.

“In these times it is not a popular pursuit especially for the Hawkwood, though…” he paused before adding, “they aren’t as bad as some Houses I could name.”  Annika addressed a quick silent prayer to the Pancreator for patience, and perhaps it worked, because Mobian returned to the point rather than launching into an attack against the Godless Republicans of Isktar.

“At first it seemed the Duke was just as I had supposed, a gifted and pious man but....” he trailed off.

“His prayers grew erratic and he seemed rarely to sleep, after that heretic loving knight of yours showed up I...overheard him speaking to someone that wasn’t there, I know it sounds like madness but it made me feel cold and wrong…. I conducted…” Mobian paused clearly unwilling to reveal the secrets of his order and rephrased he words.

“I prayed upon it and learned that it was more than madness though what I couldn’t say, before I could tell anyone of what I had learned I was set upon by the palace guard, they beat me unconscious and I awoke here,” Mobian concluded. Annika frowned, wondering if the guards were complicit as a group or if just a few were involved. It was even possible that Mobian was simply so irritating that innocent guards had been happy to beat the Avestii just for the chance to do so.

“So I suppose the question becomes why does Engel need two live clergy?” she asked.

“What? Engel? What has the chamberlain to do with this?” Mobian demanded. Annika described the events that had lead to Orion’s defeat, at the end of her account the Avestii was silent and the black anger coming off him was so hot she could nearly feel it. 

“Of course, when I divined the Duke I found no taint, the heretic must be ensorcelling his mind,” Mobian said, his voice sharp with bitter hatred. Annika thought of the oily freezing darkness sliding down her throat and felt she understood the Avestii a little better than she had a few hours ago.

“Perhaps he means to sacrifice us to his Dark Masters,” Mobian speculated, “I’ve seen it before.” The words started something in Annika’s mind.

“Say that again,” she asked her the other priest.

“About sacrificing us?” Mobian asked, clearly puzzled.

“No,” Annika replied, “you said you had seen it before. I have an idea…”