My Second Life Is A Heroic Power Fantasy - LightNovelsOnl.com
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But what choice did she have? If she refused, what would Marg'faz do to her? Would the old woman just summon the guards and have her hauled back to her chain post, or would something far worse happen? And what if the chieftain found out about their meeting? What would he do to her then? The odds of something bad happening were high, and the odds of something working out in any way favorable were pretty much non-existent.
On the other hand, she could accept the old woman's aid, in whatever form it took, and use it to her advantage while hoping the old woman's request was not worse than the alternative of wounds and bondage. The worst that could happen is that Marg'faz would sell her out after treating her. But that wouldn't make a lot of sense unless the sole purpose was for the chieftain's pleasure. She wouldn't put it past the monster, but even in spite of his cleverness, she doubted he'd be that sophisticated in his torture methods. And honestly, what could happen to her that she'd not already experienced already?
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Next worst option would be that Marg'faz would demand something horrifying in return. But what could she ask for that Eleanor wouldn't accept and do if it meant her escape? Nothing could be too grotesque to not be worth having her freedom again.
The last alternative was that Marg'faz was in some way genuinely good, and was helping out of benevolence, and would only ask for Eleanor's help with something reasonable, but otherwise not possible without her.
Weighing all of this, it seemed that there really was no true downside to saying yes to the woman's request.
"Alright. What do you want from me?" She asked.
Marg'faz looked at Eleanor, and the posture of her face s.h.i.+fted into what was probably meant to be a smile.
"Excellent. I will be glad for your help. But, before we get into the details of what I will need you for, we need to get your leg and other injuries sorted. Once again, lie back, please."
Laying back onto the cot and s.h.i.+fting her position, Eleanor stared up at the ceiling as she gingerly walked the hem of her battered dress up with her fingertips, until it up to her upper thigh and past the point of the break. Marg'faz s.h.i.+fted her postion so that she was leaning over Eleanor's body, and she seemed to take sudden intense interest in Eleanor's leg, which she leaned in closer to inspect.
"Well, you've been working faster than I expected." Marg'faz said simply, casting Eleanor a sideways glance.
Looking down, Eleanor's heart nearly stopped when she saw the written spell formulae temporarily marked on the insides of her thighs were clearly visible. Oh G.o.d, she hadn't even been thinking about that! How could she have forgotten? The sudden realization that she'd accidentally just given away her entire plan of escape set her into a light-headed panic as her breath came quickly and she had the overwhelming urge to try and run away.
"Breathe, girl. There is no need for alarm." Marg'faz said simply, her eyes meeting Eleanor's. "Who do you suppose instructed the cooks to leave the bowl and spoon behind?"
