Authors: Lynn Flewelling
Reaching the base of the stairs, she conjured a light and made her way through the echoing darkness to the chamber of cages. Fetid air greeted her as she opened the heavy door, and she breathed it in with pleasure. Decay and excrement were like perfume in her nostrils, rich and sensuous.
Nine cage doors stood open, each with the rotting remains of a soldier she’d fed upon. The last two precious meals, a bearded male and a blond female, blinked in the glow of her light as she approached them. Rhazat stood a moment, trying to decide which sort of life she was in the mood for. Then the female began to cry and that decided her.
“Poor dear,” Rhazat said with mock concern as she touched the lock on her cage. “The strain is too much for you, isn’t it? Come, let me grant you peace.”
“Leave her alone!” the male snarled, reaching through the bars, clawing the air in her direction. “Take me, you bitch.”
“Are you in such a hurry to die?”
“No, Captain,” the female said, fighting to regain control of herself. “It’s my turn and I’m ready. I can’t stand another moment in this cursed place.”
She walked out of the cage to stand at attention before Rhazat, who laughed merrily at such posturing.
“Really, my dear, does it matter so much if you die with your head held high?”
“It does to me.”
“As you wish.” Rhazat grasped the woman’s head between her hands and pressed her lips to her brow, gasping with pleasure as the life force flowed into her. When it was done, she dumped the carcass back into the cage and licked her lips.
“You might as well eat me, too,” the male said, bravado spent. It sounded quite dispirited.
“I shall. Your friend wasn’t nearly as filling as I’d hoped.”
As she’d anticipated, he came out fighting, but she still had enough strength to hold him by the throat and kiss away his life.
She climbed the stairs to her chamber feeling positively spritely, then made her way down the main stair to the receiving hall, calling for Klia. “Come, my dear. Time for your luncheon!”
When no answer came, Rhazat shrugged and went to the kitchen. If Klia was in the tower, she would have answered. She made no attempt to hide from her.
In the kitchen she carved the remaining meat from the arm of the male she’d dined on two days before and transformed it into acceptable fare for her guest. Not so nourishing as it would have been as a direct source, but she could hardly expect Klia to willingly dine on her own people. Drawing the essence of the meat forth, Rhazat molded it into a sparrow pudding and a quince tart.
When Klia still had not returned in time for the evening meal, Rhazat sent out a dra’gorgos, which soon returned with the limp body of the princess in its arms. She appeared to be in a faint. At Rhazat’s gesture, the dra’gorgos placed Klia on the floor of the receiving chamber and disappeared.
Kneeling beside Klia, Rhazat gently patted her thin, pale cheeks. She was growing very thin. “Come, you must eat.”
Klia’s eyes fluttered open, and she lay there looking up at Rhazat. “I’m not hungry.”
“Of course you are. Why deny it?”
She pulled Klia up and slipped an arm around her, guiding her back to the dining room and into a chair. “Just a simple meal, my dear, but you may have as much as you like.”
Klia watched, listless as a doll, while Rhazat filled a plate and set it before her. She sat there, hands limp in her lap. A tear ran down her cheek, and more followed. She did not sob or wail, simply sat there in silent despair so sweet Rhazat was tempted to devour her on the spot.
“What is wrong, my dear?”
Klia kept her gaze on the plate and shook her head.
“What’s that? I don’t understand.”
Then, so softly Rhazat almost didn’t hear it, “I want to leave.”
“Why the sudden change of heart?” she asked.
Klia placed her hands over her belly where the child was stirring, and more tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Ah, I see.”
“Will you let me go, if I do what you want?”
“Of course! I wouldn’t be so ungrateful not to. Are you saying you wish to break the seal?”
Klia just sat there for another long moment, then gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Was that a yes?” Klia nodded slightly, but Rhazat wanted to savor her victory. “Say the words, my dear, so I can be certain we understand each other.”
Klia closed her eyes, and more tears spilled from between her lashes. “I will break the seal. I will free you, if you promise to let my child and me live and go our own way, free of you forever. Swear you’ll have no further hold on us and I’ll do as you ask.”
“Princess, you fill me with joy. All I ask is that you break the seal. Then you will indeed be free to go. I swear it by Seriamaius, whom I worship and hold most dear.” Never mind that the Eater of Death was the patron of liars and murderers, she thought with an inward smile. It was such a pleasure to see the first, cautious glimmer of hope in those tear-filled blue eyes.
“Now eat, my darling, and then you must rest. Tomorrow is soon enough. I shall miss you, you know, although I liked you better when your pride had not been broken. Such a shame that it had to come to this, eh?”
Klia sank her head in her hands. “Must you mock my shame?”
“Where are my manners! I beg your pardon, my dear, only I am so pleased with your decision that I neglected to dissemble my true feelings toward you. Now eat.”
Klia ate in grim silence. When her plate was empty she sat back and looked at Rhazat.
“Please,” she whispered, blinking away more tears. “Can’t we just get it over with now?”
“Tomorrow, my dear. Who would have thought you’d be in such a rush to betray your people?”
The following morning Klia looked more dispirited than ever, but she ate heartily without being coaxed and rose as soon as she was finished. “I’m ready.”
“Come along, then. Would you care to ride your horse one last time?”
That struck a spark of feeling. “No,” Klia muttered, and said no more.
Thero’s first act of preparation the previous day, after casting another light, had been to dry the floor of the cave. He sealed the cracks where water was leaking through, then translocated the water.
“That was a necessary risk.” He sat down on a bedroll. “I mustn’t do anything else that uses a significant amount of my strength, apart from setting the wards, and that won’t take much.”
He set out a large crystal box he’d summoned from his workroom, and two smaller ones he’d brought with him. Without head or hands, the rest of the dyrmagnos’s body would be little more than a useless revenant, incapable of much harm. Next, he took out two sacks, one containing gold dust, the other salt. With these he laid out the lines and patterns of the threshold spell. Even if Rhazat broke through the one at the wall, it might wound her so much that she would not be able to break through the one blocking the mouth of the tunnel.
The rest of the salt and gold he sprinkled over their heads. It clung glittering in Seregil’s hair that hung beneath the head scarf and sparkled in Micum’s bushy eyebrows and moustache. He could only imagine what he looked like.
“What does this do?” asked Micum.
“I don’t know how much it takes to affect her, but this can’t hurt.”
“I’ll take all the protection I can get.” Micum looked
around the cave. “It’s bigger than I thought, but still close quarters.”
Seregil’s dark laugh echoed among the dripstone formations. “All the more reason to make it a short battle.”
They took watches after that. Micum went first and though Seregil tried to sleep, too many thoughts were racing through his mind as he tried to mentally prepare for the battle ahead. It was difficult to do, since no one knew what would happen when Klia broke the seal; perhaps they’d all end up crushed by a cave-in. When he finally did go to sleep, he dreamed of Alec, lost in darkness and calling his name. Seregil felt his way down an endless tunnel until he stumbled over something large and soft. Reaching down, he felt a head and a long braid, sticky with blood.
He started awake, knowing he wasn’t going to sleep again until this was over. Micum was standing by the skull, yawning.
“You were whimpering in your sleep, Seregil. Anything I should know about?”
“Just a bad dream. Get some rest. I’ll take over now.”
Micum went to the wall near Thero, rested his sword across his knees, and closed his eyes. It was only a moment before he was snoring softly.
Seregil’s watch was uneventful. Micum woke and went above to see what time of day it was.
Tonight it had been Vhadä who wasn’t ready to go to sleep. “Tell me more about your ghost, Mika,” he asked.
“He’s nice. There was another one who broke my arm, though.”
“So that’s what happened!” Vhadä’s eyes widened in the light from the night lamp. “I didn’t think ghosts could really hurt anyone.”
“This one did. But all the others I’ve seen didn’t pay much attention to me.”
“Others? How many have you seen?”
Mika realized he’d probably said too much again.
“Come on, Mika, we’re friends, too, aren’t we?”
“Yes.”
“Can’t you tell me about the other ghosts? I promise I won’t tell.”
Mika still hesitated, but he didn’t want to hurt his friend’s feelings. “Well, I guess you know that the old governor was killed by ghosts.”
“Everyone knows that.”
“So that’s why my master came here: to try and find out how it all happened.”
“What about the barons? Why did they go with him, and that big fellow with the red-and-silver moustache?”
“They’re helping my master, but that’s all I can say.”
“Are they really going to the oracle’s cave? What does that have to do with the ghost at the palace?”
Mika had really talked himself into a corner now. “Can you really keep a secret?”
Vhadä put his hand on his heart. “I swear by Illior’s owls.”
“You just found out about them.”
“Yes, but you said they’re sacred to the Immortal who watches over my people, so that’s a very serious oath. Come on, Mika, you’re making me itch I’m so curious.”
“You really,
really
can’t tell anyone. There’s a bad thing at the palace, a sort of monster, and my master and his friends are going to kill it. But they have to go to the cave to do it.”
“What kind of monster?”
Mika shook his head. “I’ve already said too much. But they are very brave, and …” To his horror, his lower lip began to tremble as he thought of Princess Klia still caught in that bad place. “They’re very brave.”
Vhadä patted his shoulder. “Don’t cry. Are you scared they’ll get hurt?”
Mika wiped his nose on his arm and nodded. “But they’ve had lots of dangerous adventures and always come home. So I know my master will come back.”
“Unless the monster kills him,” Vhadä observed, which only made Mika want to cry again. Embarrassed, he turned on his side and pretended to go to sleep. Worry was making him feel sick in his stomach.
“I’m sorry, Mika,” his friend whispered. “I won’t ask any more questions. Good night.”
Mika really tried to go to sleep, but he couldn’t after talking to Vhadä. At last he got up and got dressed as quietly as he could, then stole downstairs, keeping a sharp eye out for the ghostly woman. He didn’t see her, though, and made it outside to see if his ghost friend was there.
He was, only this time he was up by the pond. Mika ran to join him. “Is my master safe? And the others?”
The ghost boy didn’t seem to understand. Instead, he pointed urgently up the road again, just like the night before, and finally stamped his foot in frustration.
“You really think I need to go back, don’t you?” Even though the boy didn’t really answer him, Mika had the strongest feeling that he was trying to warn him about something. “Is it about Rhazat?”
The ghost understood that. He nodded and disappeared as if the very sound of her name had scared him away. Mika stood there, biting his lip as he tried to decide what to do. Master Thero had told him to stay here; there was no arguing that. He said he’d send for him if he needed him. But what if he couldn’t? What if Rhazat had caught him and was torturing him like she had Mika? Then his master couldn’t send for him, because his magic wouldn’t work!
That and the bad feeling in his stomach decided him. He went back to the house and crept into the kitchen pantry, where he found a sack and put in as much food as he could carry. Then he hurried up to the barn for his pony, Little Star. She nickered sleepily as he put on the saddle and tightened the girth the way Klia had taught him when she gave the little mare to him. Looping the knotted neck of the sack over the pommel, he pulled himself up and set off for Menosi at a canter.
Darkness fell while Alec lay in the little hollow he’d used before, the black Radly and his quiver on the cloak beside him. Without any other form of light, it was like being blind, and that made Alec uneasy. The only creatures he had to fear here were dra’gorgos and the dyrmagnos herself, and he had no doubt that either of them could find him easily enough
and that he wouldn’t have any warning before anything grabbed him. At least it wasn’t cold or damp.
The mute boy had appeared as Mika rode up the river road, and ran along beside Little Star. As they neared the stone where they’d first met he got in front of the pony, motioning for Mika to stop.
He reined in, trying to figure out what was wrong.
The boy pointed to Little Star and shook his head, then to the sack of food, and then Mika.
“My pony can’t go in?” Then he remembered the chicken Alec had tried to carry into the other plane. He dismounted and untied the sack of food. It seemed he’d have to go on foot from here. His friend motioned for him to follow him. Mika walked beside him toward the rise leading up to the plain, where the man who’d broken his arm had come from. As they neared the top, the ghost took his hand, pulling him along into the darkness.
“Bilairy’s Balls, Seregil, will you quit pacing and sit down?” Micum murmured as he came back into the cave. “We’re all on edge.”
“Sorry.” Seregil stopped next to Khazireen’s skull. He knew how it felt, waiting and staring at that damn wall. Between the tension, the cold and damp of the cave, and the smell of piss from the far side of it, he was having a hard time not climbing out of his own skin. It had been far too long; Alec’s food would be running low by now, and who knew what being there for so long would do to him?