dully that her blood looked darker mixed in with the remaining ichor from the gate. The vines beneath her curled towards that brackish mixture in a disturbingly aggressive manner. She watched them as she answered, knowing the emptiness in her expression was only going to provoke another attack.
"Eamon wields all weapons with mind bent to purpose. They are honed the same."
Truth, followed by another obstructed sucking noise from the Oracle that made her want to grab the front end of the pipe and shove it through the back of his hairless skull. Instead she stood there, impotent, hands at her sides, bracing for another violent response.
None came, only a breathless wheezing laughter followed by a statement that made her blood run cold. "As that is the case," the Oracle said, "you should be able to appreciate that I too, have found a purpose for your accursed existence." His fevered eyes glittered with malicious amusement.
"Oracle."
"Your absent tone comes dangerously close to profaning my position, mongrel."
Tian dropped to one knee and bowed her head in an empty gesture of respect given to one who hadn't earned it in centuries. "I beg forgiveness." There wasn't any emotion behind that statement either, but he didn't notice.
"You may be coarse and unsightly, but at least you are not stupid. There is an object I require you to return to me. It is a simple task really, just find a cup, fetch it, bring it back. I would assume that such a thing is within the realm of even your capabilities."
The Oracle turned his back on her, striding over to his former perch in the tree and settling himself with no small amount of flare. "I also require your oath of silence in the face of The Unmoved," he added in calculated afterthought.
Just a cup, my ass.
Tian's head shot up in shock. The request was at best unusual, at worst she was afraid to consider the repercussions.
He cringed, disgust evident in his features. "You forget yourself, Breed."
Tian swallowed and forced her head back to the side. There were a lot of ways to die badly, repeatedly, and eternally, and dicking around with one's owner was the line item at the top of the list. Especially Eamon. There was a reason the Dark Queen's left hand was referred to as the Unmoved. He was a completely clinical, detached strategist with a silver tongue and little tolerance for deceit. He could taste it, and the ramifications for lying to him were legendary.
Moreover Eamon had been decent to her. He hadn't been gentle, but he and the Queen's Assassin had trained her to be something other than a victim. Eamon had used his position at court to lay claim to her death-proof ass, and thus far had made good use of the ill-fated indestructibility that didn't involve being bartered out to an endless supply of sadists and psychotics for small favors. A slave by any other name, but she owed him for that.
"Perhaps the Dark Queen's own ward Brenwyn would be of more assistance in finding the cup you seek, Oracle. It is said that her gift is quite extraordinary," Tian said.
"The Queen's own ward is an otherwise occupied asset one does not request lightly. You are a convenience and I would have your oath now."
"Oracle."
"I find these one sided conversations with your kind tedious. Your oath."
"No."
The silence that greeted her response was resounding. She was bracing for the series of inescapable blows when they came, so the impact was hardly a surprise. It wasn't as if he could do anything that hadn't been done before, and his ministrations lacked the finesse or purpose she was accustomed to. That said, being accosted with a metal pole wielded like a baseball bat never felt good, no matter what the diameter of it was. She choked, hacking two teeth up onto the aether, and watched them skip across the awkward surface like stones on a pond. The Oracle chuckled.
"Entertaining, mongrel, however, your Lord would not be disinclined to acquiesce to my claim on any of his dogs were I to make one, and