Understanding Pain

Pavel quickly pulled the knife from Ashtin. Staggering backwards, Ashtin coughed blood onto the white tile floor. He tried to put a shield between himself and Pavel, but he had been too late. Stepping forward, Pavel attempted to stab Ashtin a second time, but Ashtin swatted at Pavel’s arm with his left hand, knocking it downwards. Pavel kept a firm grip on the knife and it cut a long gash into Ashtin’s side before Pavel finally drove it into Ashtin’s gut.

Ginevra observed the violence as it played out before her. This turn of events was unexpected, and the most important thing for her was to determine the cause. Was Ashtin staging this to assuage her suspicions of him? If not, was Pavel acting on his own, or was there an unknown agent guiding him? Ashtin’s reaction was slow and uncoordinated, and honest surprise was evident in his expression, so she moved to help restrain Pavel, but with his right hand, Ashtin erected a shield in front of her. With his left, he grabbed Pavel’s wrist.

“That hurts, Pavel,” Ashtin grunted. His healing magic had acted quickly, and the first stab wound had already healed.

“I—I know,” Pavel stammered. “I’m sorry, but it’s necessary.”

“I don’t think you really understand.” As he spoke, the gash on his side began to close. “You don’t understand what you’re doing, and you don’t understand pain.” He summoned a large serrated knife into his right hand and shoved the tip into Pavel’s flank. Pavel shrieked and tried to pull away, but Ashtin held tight to his wrist. He pulled the knife out of Pavel and flicked the blood away, leaving splatters on the walls around him, but using magic to make sure that none hit Ginevra.

Even though he still had his own knife, Pavel turned to run instead of fight, slipping in the pool of blood—both Ashtin’s and his own—at his feet. Ashtin was quick to take advantage, kneeling on Pavel’s back so that he couldn’t stand. Placing his palm over Pavel’s wound, he healed Pavel, repairing even the tear in his shirt.

In his panic, Pavel tried to claw his way forward, knocking his knife away while screaming in an uneven high pitch.

“I’m healing you, Pavel. See?” Ashtin grabbed Pavel’s wrist and forced his hand to his side, where his wound had once been. “I don’t want to hurt you, but I had to make you understand what you did to me, what you’re doing to the council.”

“That’s not true. You used your magic to make it worse. You’re just as bad as they are.”

Sighing, Ashtin traced his knife up Pavel’s right side, making sure to line it up perfectly to poke into his lung, and then slowly pushed. He wanted Pavel to feel that same sensation of blood flowing into his lungs. When Pavel’s screams turned to gurgles, he retracted the knife and healed him again. Pavel went limp, but Ashtin didn’t stop. He repeated the process three more times, each time waiting until Pavel had fully healed so that he would feel as much pain as possible.

“Please.” Pavel managed to sob amidst the inarticulate screams and grunts coming from his throat.

“You thought you knew what pain was because you once tripped and bruised yourself,” Ashtin hissed. “You’ve never had to experience the agony of starvation, or of disease eating away at your flesh. You’ve never been burned alive, or suffocated, or had your limbs severed, or your eyes gouged out, or your head crushed beneath a warhorse’s hoof, or your body ripped in half by ropes.”

“I—I—I un—un.” Pavel couldn’t get the words out of his mouth.

“Then why did you stab me?”

“T—To overthrow the council. Everyone must do their part.”

“Then you don’t understand,” Ashtin stabbed and healed Pavel once more. “You’re not satisfied with being a store manager? For most of human history before the council, you would be lucky to have it so good. If you weren’t barely scraping by on subsistence farming, you’d be working your body to the bone for a meager paycheck, or conscripted into the military and left to bleed to death on a cold battlefield. You should be thanking the council for creating a world where you don’t have to live a miserable life and die an equally miserable death.”

Pavel’s next words were half mumbled, half gargled. “There was a time, before the council, but after—”

“A time where humans almost wiped themselves out with nuclear warfare. A time where the lives of poor humans were degraded and sacrificed for the comfort of the rich. A time where governments were so inept that millions died needlessly in every large-scale crisis. A time that was completely unprepared for the emergence of mages, leaving populations at the mercy of their whims. It was the council that saved us from all of that. The council saved you from pain much worse than I can inflict with this knife.” He stabbed Pavel once more to drive the point home. “Now do you understand?”

Looking down at the man, it was almost as if Ashtin could see him break. The manic fanaticism faded from his eyes, and as his shoulders drooped, he appeared to sink into himself. His body language had always given off an air of fear and despair, but that was natural. He was, after all, being held and interrogated by the council. Now, however, that fear had given way to terror, and it was focused entirely on Ashtin. At that point, Ashtin knew he would say—and would do—anything that Ashtin asked of him.

“Yes.” Pavel nodded, after taking a few moments to recover. “I was wrong. I’m sorry I tried to do anything so foolish.” Ashtin released his wrist and Pavel scrambled on his hands and knees over to Ginevra. “I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t realize how good I had it. I didn’t realize what I would lose if the council went away.”

“You can apologize by telling me what I need to know,” Ginevra interjected.

“Not yet,” Ashtin interrupted. “You can’t trust anything he says until he proves he’s learned his lesson. Pavel, you must apologize with actions, not just words.”

“H—How do I do that?”

“See that spot of dirt on her boot? Make yourself useful and lick it clean.”

Pavel only hesitated for the briefest of moments before bringing his face to Ginevra’s boot and running his tongue over it.

“How does it taste?” Ashtin asked him. “Tell the truth.”

“It’s bad, but not as bad as I thought it would be.”

“Obedience can feel that way sometimes, but it’s better than pain, isn’t it? Tell you what, why don’t you clean her entire boot, then you can tell her what she needs to know.” He turned to Ginevra and smiled. “That worked surprisingly well. Perhaps the council ought to periodically remind malcontents how bad it would be without them.”

“Ashtin,” Ginevra said, “despite the results, I do not approve of what you did. The purpose of counseling is not to coerce or oppress with violence.”

“That’s not what I was going for. It’s just that it’s difficult to recognize the comfort and pleasure we enjoy without experiencing its opposite.”

“I know that you understand pain, but I do not think that is a good thing, and I would ask you not to inflict that knowledge upon others. Look at Pavel. He’s frightened of you now. He can never be honest with you again. How could we counsel those who fear us?”

“I see your point.” Ashtin frowned. “You’re the expert. I’m sure you’ll devise more effective measures than I could. I apologize for acting out of turn.”

“It was understandable, given the circumstances. However, it leaves me in an awkward position. You see, one of my boots is now clean, but the other is still dirty.”

“I’m sure he’d clean the other one too, if you asked.”

“I’m sure he would, but I am asking you.” She still wasn’t sure what to make of Ashtin. This did not seem to be an elaborate ruse on his part to gain her trust, but it was possible he was still involved with the perpetrators. She had to know if he was still loyal.

Confusion showed on Ashtin’s face, but not anger, as he bent his knees. If he licked it without hesitation, and if he showed no ill-will afterword, Ginevra reasoned, he could be trusted, but she never got to find out. They were interrupted as four gunshots rang out from the next room.