Gavsot seemed to struggle with an adequate response to my assessment of the situation. Finally, he agreed, “This is…regrettable.”
“Nobody else got busted out of your department while I was gone, did they?” I asked him suddenly.
“Absolutely not,” the General replied quickly. For good measure, he added, “No.”
“Are you sure? You didn’t know Azraal was gone until you checked.”
He regarded me with a surprising level of acidity in his gaze. “What are you implying?”
Caught off guard by his stiff response, I said, “Nothing. I just want to make sure nobody else who hates my guts is off conspiring with the other people who hate my guts.”
“Azraal’s situation was unique,” Gavsot assured me stonily. “He was held in secret. Had any of my other prisoners escaped, I’d have been notified immediately by the crew guarding him.”
“But what if the crew guarding him was killed, just like the guards in front of Azraal’s closet?”
“There are failsafes in place,” he snapped. “I know how to run my department.”
“Okay, okay,” I said. “Geez, man, cool it. I’m just making sure.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look as though he’d forgiven me. “Will there be anything else, sir?”
“Yeah. I’d like to talk to Kivra. Is she still in the same cell?”
“She has been moved.”
“Okay, can you take me there?”
“If you wish.”
I rolled my eyes. He was probably hundreds of years old, but he was being stubborn and childlike because I’d offended him. “I wish,” I said flatly. He clamped a hand on my shoulder, teleported me to Kivra’s cell, and disappeared without another word.
Kivra was chained against the wall with her wrists bound together above her head. She’d have looked sexy had she not appeared utterly defeated and wholly depressed. “Hello,” I said.
“What do you want?” she snarled hoarsely.