He wanted to go home.
Eridan had tried to escape a few times, but after the time he’d tried to mind-trick Warrehn into leaving him alone while he took a bath, even Warrehn became pretty strict with him while Sirri became downright paranoid.
They shouldn’t have bothered. Eridan felt too shitty after his last escape attempt to try again. He was annoyed with himself for failing. If he had managed to feel enough anger at Warrehn to use his gift and strangle him into unconsciousness—which was the plan—he wouldn’t have had to resort to mind-tricking him and would have escaped.
Your bleeding heart is going to be your downfall one day, Eridan.
His Master had been right. As usual.
“… what are you sulking about, brat?”
Eridan flinched and looked at Sirri. “I’m not sulking. I’m just sick of listening to the two of you bitching at each other. What did you want?”
Sirri glanced at Warrehn, who stood silently by the door, frowning at Eridan with a strange look on his face.
“We decided we’re done waiting. It doesn’t look like your people are going to give up anytime soon and end the blockade. We’ll have to act. Warrehn and I are going to kill each other if we’re stuck here for another month.”
A month? Had it really been a month already?
It seemed both longer and shorter than that.
Eridan pursed his lips in confusion. “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”
“We will contact the High Adept—or rather, you will.” Sirri pulled Eridan’s communicator out of her pocket and switched it on. “Unlock it and call him. We’ll do the rest.”
Eridan looked at his communicator greedily. He knew he should probably refuse to comply with the rebels’ plan, but the thought of actually seeing his Master and hearing his voice, made something inside him ache with longing.
He found himself nodding.
“Huh, I thought you would be a pain in the ass about it,” Sirri said. “Though if you’re hoping your people would trace your location through your communicator, don’t get your hopes up: there’s a jammer in this safe house.”
Eridan shook his head. “Let’s get it over with,” he said. “Unbind me.”
Sirri did, and Eridan sighed, rubbing at his wrists before accepting his communicator and unlocking it. Immediately, it chimed with the notifications of missed calls and messages.
Ignoring them, Eridan tapped on Castien’s personal communicator number and waited with bated breath for the call to connect. It might not connect at all if Castien was at High Hronthar rather than the monastery. Communicator coverage was spotty in the mountains.
“You will not talk to him,” Sirri said, snatching the communicator away from him, binding his hands, and shoving a gag into Eridan’s mouth.
Eridan glared at her, but the infuriating woman ignored him, setting the communicator on the table so it was facing him before stepping out of the camera frame.
“He can see you, but you will not talk to him,” Sirri said.
Eridan glowered at her, but at that moment, the call connected.
His traitorous heart jumped as Castien’s face appeared on the screen of his communicator.
He looks tired, was Eridan’s first thought as he stared hungrily at his Master.
Castien also looked angry, though it probably wasn’t noticeable to anyone who didn’t know him. To Sirri, Grandmaster Idhron probably looked as unemotional as it could get, but Eridan knew him, knew every infinitesimal change to his normally blank expression.
Castien looked at Eridan’s gagged face for a long moment before saying flatly, “What do you want?”
Staying out of the camera’s view, Sirri smiled. “I like a man who gets straight to the point.” She put a blaster to Eridan’s temple.
It felt cold.
Eridan was very still, just looking into Castien’s eyes.
In the meantime, Sirri continued cheerfully, “Our demands are as follows: You will remove your people from the forest. You will meet us there tomorrow, alone and unarmed. You will turn on your identification chip’s beacon the moment you arrive in the forest and wait for us at the Blind. If you try to trick us, your apprentice will die.” Her voice hardened. “I’m not joking, Your Grace. Frankly, he’s been a pain in the ass, and it wouldn’t be a hardship for me to kill him. If you want to see his pretty face again, you will do as I say.”
Not a single muscle moved on Castien’s face. He said, “Very well.”
Eridan blinked, a little surprised. It wasn’t at all like Castien to give in to someone’s demands. His Master probably intended to double-cross the rebels somehow; that was the only explanation he could think of.
Sirri shifted a little, emanating confusion, too. She clearly hadn’t expected for it to be so easy. She cleared her throat and switched the communicator off.
“It’s a trap,” Warrehn said gruffly.
“Shut up. It was mostly your idea, not mine,” Sirri said, but Eridan could sense her unease. “That man is creepy as fuck. Are all mind adepts so unemotional?”