Exploitable Weaknesses

he examined the Spymaster. He didn’t reply. Iona could feel the power build. Instinctively, she thought it was the prisoner but realized almost immediately that it was Yoren. She spoke abruptly, “Grief, will you talk to me?” The prisoner turned to face her and shrugged, making links of his chain rattle, “Perhaps.” His voice sounded clearer now, more youthful. Yoren stopped short, considered his actions, and backed to the cell door, “Maybe it’s better if I give you some space.” He smiled, “Behave yourselves, now. I’ll just be right here.”
Grief watched Yoren as he backed away, and seemed satisfied to keep his gaze on him. Iona shifted to look at the prisoners left side, “Have your wounds been treated?” Without taking his eyes off the Spymaster, Grief nodded. Iona wanted to get him talking again, “Quite a few welts and burns. This wound from the crossbow might be getting infected. When was the last time you were treated by a healer?” Grief glanced at her, flashed a hint of a grin and expelled a short burst of air. It was probably a laugh, but it was almost a grunt. He said nothing else. Iona continued to look at his side, “If an infection there reached your lung. It could kill you.” Grief smiled, “It’s superficial. The bolt hit a rib and glanced off. It didn’t pierce deep enough to hit my lung.” His smile vanished, as if it were never there, “If you wish to use fear or feigned concern to get me talking, at least understand the facts first.” Iona shrugged, it had been worth a try. She asked, “You do want to live, don’t you?” She gestured toward the cell door, “To return to a life, out there?” He shrugged again, “Of course.” Yoren chuckled, “You might find things have changed… drastically.” Grief chuckled, louder this time, his voice gaining strength, “I’ll bet they have, Spymaster. Any luck with stemming the tide of Apex? I imagine the Prince might be getting impatient by now.” Yoren took two steps back into the cell, and hissed, “I’ll be asking the questions here, not you.” Grief grunted again, “That bad, is it?” He turned to her and spoke in a tone that sounded like he was confiding in her, “Be watchful of your boss. Paying snitches for dubious information takes no skill.” Yoren quickened his pace. Iona felt both men build power as Grief attempted to finish voicing his thought, “Ask him about his last partn-” Both men expended some power as the spymaster pounded a fist into Grief’s ribs. The blow barely seemed to register on the prisoner, except for interrupting his sentence. Grief actually winked at her, “It seems I should go back to being quiet now. Hope you don’t mind.” Iona was trying to reconcile this young man with being the same one who’d held a knife to her throat a few months ago. It wasn’t easy, but then again, he had spared her when he didn’t have to. In fact, by sparing her he had likely brought additional risk onto himself. The guard returned and Iona asked him directly, “Could you please assure me that this prisoner will receive medical treatment, and adequate food and water? He could be important in our ongoing investigation.” The guard appeared uncomfortable and he looked to the Spymaster for support. Yoren gave a discreet nod and the guard answered, “Of course, Miss.” Iona had leaned in close and whispered, “You spared my life. It’s the least I can do; I certainly can’t do much more.” She leaned back and stated, “I am interested in the boy who was with you a night or two before we met. I’m told he has very dark eyes. You know the boy that I mean?” Grief looked deeply into her eyes, as if searching for something. She felt no surge of power from him, but still she looked away. He smiled, “Why are you looking for him?” He paused for only a moment, then continued speaking, “He escaped the raid. He’s free, isn’t he?” He examined her face for any response and for a moment he looked almost happy, then she recognized what he was feeling…hope. His mouth curled into a playful grin, “Let me out and I’ll introduce you.” Yoren interjected, “You know where he is? You can be made to tell!” Grief calmly looked at Yoren, no expression whatsoever on his face for several seconds before he turned to warn her, his voice filled with regret, “I’d tell you to be careful, but it won’t matter.”
*****
It would have felt liberating to be back in the Forest, if not for the cloud of self-imposed responsibility that clung to him like a shroud. The sweet, clear air wafting through the branches almost turned bitter as he breathed it in, tainted by his own impatience and the knowledge of what he must be prepared to do.
Utsef' approached and interrupted his thoughts with the inevitable conversation, “The last time we sparred, you hadn't yet Manifested. You showed some promise then. How are you now?” Cooper shifted his weight and rose smoothly from his seated position, “Well enough, I suppose. There hasn't been much cause to test my speed.”
They squared off and the Journeymen in the immediate vicinity stopped whatever they were doing to watch. It wasn't uncommon to spar with many others present. That's how classes had been conducted, but having an actual audience felt different for some reason. Cooper pushed aside any self-conscious thoughts and focused on Utsef's stance.
The woodsman seemed to change his stance and posture with each step, causing Cooper to adjust accordingly with increasing frequency. After circling each other for a minute, Utsef smiled, “Alright. You've shown me most of what I expected to see.” He winked, “Shall we?” Cooper smiled thinly, “I though we already had be-” Utsef rushed forward and Cooper took a half step back to meet his offensive and accessed his Talent