Cerest watched Ristlara and Shenan work their magic. Arcane radiance lit up the ship's cabin.
Ristlara had Saragui's hands pinned to his desk with two gold-hilted daggers. Magic pulsed down the blades into the man's skin. The pale blue light ran sickly up his arms, creating new veins while pushing others out of the way.
The man's face twisted in agony. A steady stream of blood and spittle ran down his chin. His eyes were fixed on some unknown distance. He would not look at either of the females while the magic sapped his life energies.
"I don't understand," Shenan said. She sounded like a parent disappointed in the performance of a beloved child. "We never have this trouble with the daggers."
"He's strong-willed," Cerest said, but Ristlara shook her gold tresses impatiently.
"He's human. He should have broken by now."
