He left his chains behind. The torturer stood in the dark corridor, staring with hard eyes. "When will I get my treasure?" the man asked, crossing his hairy arms. His toolbox lay at his feet, including the pliers which had ripped off Gemini's fingernail. Gemini shivered to see it. "Once the Temple is mine," Gemini whispered, lips cracked, tongue dry like a strip of leather. "Once my mother and sister are dead." He sucked in breath, imagining it. How wonderful it would be! He would plunge the blade into their backs himself, hear the breath gush out of their mouths, feel the hot blood splash him. This was no work for an assassin; he would do the work himself. Perhaps he would kill Domi too. Perhaps he would make love to her one last time, then kill her. Or maybe the other way around. Yes. That would please him. All women are cruel, he thought, fists trembling. All women are backstabbers. His mother had tormented him since his birth. His sister had always looked down at him as if he were a maggot.
