5. Cold-hearted killer

Drawing on inner reserves, Rayne sprints through the snow.

Torrga's subtle axe comes down to try to block the fighter's blow, but he is too fast, too strong.

The two remaining bandits throw down their crossbows, leaving only the vainglorious Torrga to fight on.

Torrga struggles against the thorny vines. She tries slicing at them with her razor axe, but for every branch she severs, two more slide into position. Her gang use this diversion and take the opportunity to sneak away before sprinting north into the snow.

She wheedles as she struggles.

"You're being unfair to poor Torrga. There are four of you, dearies, and Torrga is only one.

Let Torrga go and Torrga will lead a good life that will make you proud. You'd like that, wouldn't you dearies?

But if you are low-down cutthroats, and Torrga doesn't think you are, then show honour. Let Torrga fight one of you in a duel for her freedom. Eh, dearies?

A fair duel? Give Torrga that warrior's honour."

Bells and Rayne are suffering mild exhaustion.

Night has fallen, and in Icewind Dale, it falls hard.

Torrga looks up at Anders with innocent eyes. The look doesn't suit her.

"Those poor sweet dearies. Poor sweet dearies. Torrga always thought it a shame what happened to them.

But don't you want to know why Sephek did it?

Not that Torrga agreed with him! No, no. Torrga is a bandit, but no worse than the other bandits on these dark trails.

Sephek had an... ideology, dearies. Now he's gone, Torrga is sure others will take his place."

She plays her card.

"But if you were to free Torrga... then perhaps you might hear why Sephek killed those poor sweet dearies.

Perhaps other poor sweet dearies might not have to suffer."

"If you take Torrga back to Eastie, then they will surely burn poor, poor Torrga.

Torrga has been bad, but Torrga wagers some of you have done bad things too. Perhaps we all deserve burning at the stake, eh dearies?"

Then Okto's spell punches Torrga, suppressing the parts of her soul that control independent thought.

"They cheated the lottery. Some of Auril's followers will not allow the Frostmaiden to be insulted."

Torrga's eyes swivel down, trying to stare in disbelief at her own traitorous lips.

"The Shander spares pregnant women and children. Some Easties hide in their sprawling town. The Tar... The Tar's lottery is rigged."

Torrga clamps her mouth shut, and her eyes swivel around as she determines whether the truthdanger has passed.

Targos's lottery is rigged? Huh, weird. Okto was just wondering about that.

The trussed bandit risks opening her mouth again.

"But that's just part of it, dearies. Torrga knows much much more, and Torrga doesn't think you have enough magic to force it all out.

Let Torrga go. Show that Icewind Dale is the land of second chances, eh dearies?

You don't want to have to look into another husband, or father, or mother's eyes and tell them that you could have stopped this. Eh, dearies?

It would be such a shame if all Torrga knows were to go up in Eastie's flames.

Torrga knows much much more. Mercy buys mercy. The land of second chances, eh dearies?"

Bryn Shander doesn't put pregnant women or children in their lottery. Okto knows that to be true, as it's a common source of controversy in Targos which doesn't have the same exemption. Some men in Targos say that Bryn Shander has made a mistake and that it's a policy that's unfair to adult men - although never within frying-pan-distance of Ma. But Okto's never heard the priestess of Auril condemn Bryn Shander's lottery exemptions.

Is Targos's lottery rigged? There are rumours - but Targos is an enclosed town, and rumourmongery is to be expected.

But who did Sephek take from Targos? Those with connected and wealthy families, like Eva, the daughter of the last speaker. The first lottery selected Giandro's wife; he would have done anything, paid anything, to prevent his daughter from meeting the same fate.

Easthaven? Who knows?! The place has a reputation for being a den of thieves anyway.

Torrga's story explains known facts and doesn't contradict anything.

Torrga watches Okto watching her. She flashes her eyebrows.

"Yes, deary. It's making sense now, isn't it?

Murder was Sephek's thing - not Torrga's. Cold Sephek frightened poor old Torrga with his icy glares, but he frightened people we stopped on the road too.

Torrga just wanted gold. There's no profit in death, deary."

She licks her lips and leans forward as far as her bonds allow.

"Would you like to know who's fixing the lottery, deary? And who's behind it? Maybe what else they're planning?

Perhaps you want to know the leader of Sephek's twisted little church? Yes, deary, Torrga hears things, and Torrga sees things. Perhaps you don't care about the lottery, but Torrga wagers you'd like to see the end of extra killings.

Torrga's right, isn't she, deary?"

She nods at her axe.

"Agree to let Torrga go and let Torrga take her axe to protect herself against the yetis and crag cats. You'd be sentencing poor Torrga to death without her axe, deary.

If you all agree to that, then Torrga will tell you everything, and you'll never see Torrga again.

You'll know the words are true, deary. Torrga's words ring true like the chime of purest gold."

She smiles sweetly and bats her eyelids.

Okto sizes her up. Is it likely that this snake knows the affairs of other criminals? Damn it! It is.