The Prodigal Troll

by Charles Coleman Finlay

  "Earthquake?" Bran asked.

  A shaft swung out and struck the side of his head. As he staggered, Maggot growled and lurched toward the guard who'd hit his friend. Several hands grabbed him, fists pounding his stomach and kidneys. The scaffolding began to sway in the wind, its upper frame knocking at the stone wall.

  "Use one of the locked storerooms then," Acrysy shouted. He passed under the arch and disappeared into a doorway.

  The soldiers grabbed Bran and Maggot roughly by their arms, dragging them through the slop into a small yard with walls on three sides. They entered a stone corridor lit by greasy torchlight. The air smelled of smoke, and people, but underlying it all Maggot tasted the cold and damp. As a group they stumbled down narrow steps, one of the men going ahead to open a heavy oak door. As Bran entered the room, Maggot glimpsed a low roof and bare walls. A hand in the middle of his back shoved him after Bran.

  "It's nothing personal, m'lord Bran," Romy said.

  The door slammed shut, ensconcing the two men in darkness.

  As if he were in any other deep cave, Maggot explored the boundaries of their space, trailing his bound hands along the wall, feeling the joins at the corners, the seams at floor and ceiling. He went slowly, as if there might be hidden crevasses, but he found none. The walls were rough and the ceiling propped up by curving arches.

  "What happened?" Maggot asked as he explored. "Why would they treat us this way? They are your people, your band."

  "It's more complicated than that."

  The voice came from right beside Maggot, down low. Bran sat against the base of the wall. Had Maggot taken another step, he would have tripped over him.

  "Baron Culufre has ruled here for"-he paused-"seventeen years now. Yes, I was twelve then. But he comes originally from the Imperial City and so do almost all of his knights and soldiers, at least the core group. Only I ever rose to any position among his men."

  Maggot completed the full circuit of the room, returning to the door. A thin line of dim light squeezed around the frame, but not enough to illuminate his bonds.

  "I grew up in this valley," Bran said. "My mother's farm-well, she's given it to my brother Pwyl's wife now-is less than a day's journey from here. So I'm an outsider to many of them."

  The ropes binding Maggot's wrists were too tight to pull loose, so he nipped at them with his teeth.

  "The Baron's half-brother, m'lady Sebius, the eunuch-"

  Maggot looked toward Bran's voice. "What is eunuch?"

  "A man made like unto a woman, to have the rights of women." Bran's feet scuffed the floor as if he were uncomfortable. "Like a wizard taking the robes. But eunuchs can own property, own land, pass it on to their chosen heirs."

  The answer created more questions than it solved. Finding the rope too rough and hard, Maggot gave up chewing at it.

  "Sebius was made a eunuch to hold land for the Baron, since the skills and loyalty of the Baroness were not known at that time. But she's proven to be a strong lady, wise with her wealth, and though Sebius has grown rich-this is her palace-she's not the ruler she had hoped to be, I think."

  Maggot inched his way along the wall, palms skimming the surface, seeking any sharp nib of rock. Finding one, he rubbed the rope against it.

  "Sebius was the chief herder when the Baron arrived." Bran fell silent a moment. The only sound was that of stone abrading rope. "I still remember the sight of that army marching across the river plain, all the mammuts-most of them were sent back to the Imperial City eventually. I said good-bye to my mother and ran after the army, promising to be back within a week. But Sebius took me into her service. There must have been a dozen of us: old men, women, boys. And as Sebius prospered, so did we. I was promoted many times."

  Maggot gave up on the first stone and moved along the wall seeking something sharper to work with.

  "The Baron has never done anything similar, surrounding himself always with those he trusts from the empire's heart. And yet ..."

  "What?" Maggot found another and rubbed with better luck, fraying a thread or two.

  "It's hard to say. The Baron has put down roots here. Sebius, who should naturally have put down roots, remains much more attached to the empire. The Baron has never traveled back to the Imperial City except for the last Empress's funeral, but Sebius returns every other year or so. Her intervention there raised me to a knight, despite my birth. I think she wanted to show that she had the power, the connections, to do that."

  Bran fell silent.

  Maggot worried at the ropes, certain that water could wear away bedrock faster than he could break them. The angle was bad, and the stone had quickly lost its edge.

  "She owes me a great deal too, though," Bran said. "If Acrysy does this alone, then as soon as Sebius finds out the truth we are saved."

  "And if Sebius raises a hand with Acrysy?"

  Bran shuffled his feet again and sighed. "She has the power to do whatever she wishes."

  Maggot was unsure how much time passed-it was always hard for him to tell in a deep cave. Based on his thirst, it seemed like a long time. When he became tired, he curled up on the flagstone floor and drowsed. Bran's dry voice woke him, but whether it was a short or long time later, he had no idea. The light lining the door had disappeared.

  "They mean for us to be afraid, friend Claye."

  "Afraid?"

  "Of the darkness. It is like a tomb in here."

  "It is dark like an old cave. If you crawl through a new cave in darkness, that causes fear. A sudden drop-off can trap you in a deep crack where no one can reach you and you cry until you die. That happened with a girl I knew"-to Blossom-"and nothing the whole band could do in a week could save her. But this is like an old cave. Here we have solid ground, solid walls." He smacked his feet against the floor, pounded his fists on the stone. "What can happen to us here?"

  Bran's laughter bounced around like a pebble dropped down a deep shaft. "Perhaps."

  "There is no danger in the dark," Maggot said. "Unless the dark holds enemies."

  The smell in the small room was changing, but Maggot was hardpressed to say how. Bran's sweat was strong, and his own, but something else tickled his nose.

  "Mother Bwnte," Bran said. "May she curse Romy for paying such attention when I trained him. My hands have gone completely numb, they are bound so tight." Shuffles across the floor were followed by fists hammering on the thick door. "Open up! Sebius! Sebius! Open this door! Come here right now!"

  Maggot searched again for a sharper-edged stone. He found one close to the floor. By kneeling, he could scrape hard against it. After a while he touched the rope to his leg. It was warm in the cool room. His shoulder pressed against the damp wall while he worked.

  Bran pounded for a long time, alternately begging and threatening, until finally he wearied of it and plopped down against the far wall. "I can almost feel my fingers again," he said. Then muttered, "The ones that remain." And added louder, "Can you hear my belly thunder? That's not the worst of it. I'm so thirsty I could drink the mother water itself."

  "Here's some water flowing from the wall," Maggot said, turning to lick the trickle at his shoulder. It tasted a bit moldy, which was the odor he'd smelled. He was hungry too. If he got the ropes off, he might eat them. "Enough to wet your lips, and maybe your throat, but it won't fill your belly."

  Bran scrambled over, bumping into Maggot and kneeing his head. "Sorry about that. Where is it?"

  "It's about the height of your waist. No, lean toward me. It's near that sharp edge in the stone."

  "Found it." Bran lapped at the rock like a wildcat drinking from a pool of water. When he finally stopped, he sighed. "How could anything taste so terrible and so sweet at the same time?"

  Maggot rubbed his head against his arm, soothing the spot that Bran had kneed. "About the women?"

  There was a pause. "Yes."

  "Bran, how would I find the women?"

  There was a longer pause. "Go to any dwelling and knock on the door. Women l
ive in every house."

  "No. The women. The one in the camp, in the tent, the one I gave the lion's skin to."

  "Ah, the woman."

  "Woman?"

  "Woman, when there's only one."

  "That's right! There's only one. Only Portia."

  Bran paused again. The tap-tap-tap of dripping water sounded somewhere in their cell. "My lady Portia is betrothed to Acrysy, the man who captured us. Things have not been amicable between them, so I don't think you'll find her here."

  "Oh." The darkness seemed thicker to Maggot. "Then I will just have to go where he is not."

  Maggot slept, woke, slept, and woke again, but the intervals of time were meaningless-they could have been short naps or long periods of sleep, but either way he did not feel rested. Though he satisfied his thirst with the dripping water, hunger consumed him. The rope continued to fray under his patient sawing.

  Voices and footsteps echoed unexpectedly down the stairwell. Bran, who was leaning against the door, jumped aside just as thick oak slammed open. Light flooded the room. Maggot squinted, blinking like a bat tossed into daylight.

  "Greetings, greetings, greetings." The voice was as smooth as polished stone and just as hard. "So you're still here, are you? I extend my ample gratitude that you could await the occasion of my visit."

  "Sebius, m'lady," Bran said, his voice light with hope.

  As Maggot's eyes adjusted to the glare, Sebius-the womanly one that Maggot had called Foghair-stepped into the cell.

  Acrysy followed behind her, sneering.

  One guard with a short spear in his hand went to stand in the corner by the door, another filled the doorway, and at least one more waited out in the hall. Even if his hands were free, Maggot doubted his chance of fighting free.

  Sebius had a scent like urine in a bed of flowers, Maggot thought. He-was Sebius a he or a she, man or woman? Not a woman. Sebius, Maggot decided, was a he. Sebius walked over and lifted Bran's damaged hands. He patted the knuckles where fingers once had been. "Is this all those murderous untrustworthy heathens cut off?"

  "Isn't it enough?"

  The eunuch sighed, his voice rising a pitch. "Well, a woman always hopes for a daughter. I promised you once that if you took up the dress, I would make you my heir. You earned my fortune for me."

  "M'lady is generous with her praises." Bran pulled his hands free. "May she be as generous with her mercies."

  Sebius smiled and laid his palm affectionately against Bran's face. "Oh, Bran, Bran, Bran, why did you have to come back? You make things very difficult for me, give me very difficult choices."

  "How?" He pulled his face away from Sebius's hand.

  "Because Lady Culufre's son identified a dangerous path into the city and guarded it in fierce weather, apprehending a known traitor in the company of a recognized enemy."

  Acrysy smirked, as if he had accomplished all this single-handed. Maggot wanted to knock him down.

  Bran bristled. "Known traitor? I've served you, m'lady, since I was a boy. When did I become a traitor?"

  "To be honest, only after I thought you were dead. It seemed most appropriate to use you then, as I have in life. Now I find it hard to reverse statements I have publicly made."

  "That's not true," Acrysy shouted. "He is a traitor. He turned my betrothed against me."

  "Yes," Sebius admitted, slowly raising an open palm that silenced the youth. "There is that. Though admittedly, Lady Eleuate's wild daughter has never been fully reconciled to the thought of taking you as her consort-"

  "That's not true!"

  Sebius drew a deep breath. "As I recall, her exact words were `You may have my hand in marriage, but no more of me than that; you may roam all of my mother's estates, but you will never have my bed."' He looked to Bran. "Do I have that correctly, my protege? Speak truly to me, as you have always done."

  "She added disparaging remarks about his youth and poor character," Bran said.

  "Ah, yes." Sebius grinned sadly.

  "Liars," Acrysy hissed. "She will marry me, and I will be the next Baron here. She wouldn't deny me if that stupid hunt hadn't ruined everything. You ruined it on purpose!"

  Everyone stood there silently after this outburst, until finally Sebius spoke to Bran. "But the fact remains that she only openly defied the arrangements after the lion hunt. Which was your idea, Bran."

  "It was your goal to bring the two of them together," Bran replied quietly. "Without mothers around, so that they might get to know one another. I merely suggested the means. I have always served your goals, m'lady."

  "But my goal is a smooth succession of power and the unification of this province to the glory of the Empress."

  Bran straightened. "I accepted blame for the bad end of that venture and sacrificed my captaincy on the altar of Lord Eleuate's wounded pride. But we had other purposes there as well, to rid the valley of the lion who endangered our flocks, and to scout out the numbers of the peasants and begin their removal. Surely we accomplished both those things, to your glory, m'lady, and the advancement of the realm."

  Sebius made a small humming sound. "Since you received the blame for something you did not do, you now wish to steal credit for the work of others?"

  With everyone's attention focused on this conversation, Maggot made a sudden lunge toward Acrysy, who jumped back. He was too far away to reach the boy, and stopped short as the guard in the corner and the one at the door leapt toward him with raised spears.

  Neither Sebius nor Bran had moved.

  "I don't know what you mean," Bran said.

  "You didn't drive away the peasants, nor did you kill the lionyour friend accomplished that feat." Sebius waved a hand casually in Maggot's direction. "He is your friend, isn't he?"

  Bran's mouth turned into a thin line. "He saved my life."

  "As you spared his, in battle?"

  Maggot lifted his foot, and the guard jabbed the spear at him again, saying, "None of that, now, or you'll hurt for it."

  "Is that what they say?" Bran asked.

  "I saw it," Romy said from the doorway. "I had to speak the truth, Captain Bran. I saw you spare his life."

  "The truth is that the two of you worked together during the hunt," Acrysy interjected. "You gave this peasant access to the campyou posted the guards after all, and how else could he get past the walls without your help?-so that he could assault Lady Portia, and commit his vile affront upon her."

  "I did no such thing," Bran said.

  Sebius reached out to caress the side of Bran's face. "But it was so convenient to blame you for everything when we thought you dead. You sabotaged the hunting party and ruined the wedding. You betrayed our war plans to the peasants, giving them their brief victory and escape."

  Bran's chin hit his chest.

  "If I could have blamed the floods on you," Sebius's voice said softly, "my darling boy, I would have done that also."

  "The spring floods or the fall flood coming?" Bran asked, trying to pull his head away and bumping into the wall.

  Sebius laughed. "Both. It will be a very hard winter, and the people will need someone to blame, some distraction."

  "Blame them both on me, then," Bran said. "Call it the consequence of some sacrilege I performed to the demon gods of the peasants. I'll take credit for it all. You will have your scapegoat and your spectacle to appease the hungry crowds."

  "You'd do that?"

  "If you set free my friend, yes."

  Maggot shook his head. He would not leave without Bran. But Bran didn't notice.

  "You see, Acrysy!" Sebius stepped back and raised his hand up in the air, smiling, his teeth shining. "You see what kind of loyalty he has? He serves me still, gives me exactly what I wish and seeks to benefit his friend as well. It takes years to reap a crop like that; a length of time measured out in strings of pearls would not be worth as much."

  Acrysy crossed his arms.

  Sebius laughed at him, and embraced Bran, who stood there limply. "The crops cannot be harv
ested with the ground like this, and everyone is gathered in the city already for fear of the uprising. Conveniently, I have convinced my beloved brother to move up the Dance of Masks and Costumes for the Feast of Bwnte, and this has diverted their attention from the double disaster. When I see him, I shall essay to discover his reaction to the possibility that you are alive and well."

  "And my friend? He is not one of the peasants. He saved my life when they would have burned me."

  Sebius smiled again. "Your friend may not be a peasant, but he dresses like one and fought with them. Too many saw him in battle and heard his weirdling cry. It put fear in their hearts. No, your friend will fight his last battle against the splitting pole. His cry shall have a different keen on it then, and the soldiers will forget their fears as they cheer his death."

  "But Portia, Lady Eleuate-"

  "Exactly. And then Portia. All the more reason to kill him quickly. I shall apologize deeply for the error, after."

  Maggot flexed on the balls of his feet, tugging his wrists against his bonds. He would die fighting before he submitted to the fate suffered by Damaqua, his advisor, or the wizard.

  "Must we wait?" Acrysy asked, eyeing Maggot with a mixture of fear and contempt. "If we split him at noon, he might still be squirming when the dance begins tonight."

  "Patience, my young friend." Sebius stepped toward the door, putting his hand on Acrysy's shoulder to send him ahead. "We would not want to ruin anyone's appetite for the feast. Let them eat while they can; save the next spectacle to distract them from their hunger after the bad harvest." He turned his head. "And after that much time, it will be easier to remind everyone that it's the Wyndans we blame and not some poor, maligned, barefoot shepherd boy become a knight."

  "Wait," Bran cried, stepping toward the eunuch.

  The soldier in the corner thrust the spear at him.

  Sebius stopped on the threshold of the door. "What is it, shepherd boy? Have you lost your sheep?"

  "Send something for us to eat and drink."

  "Drink? Drink, we can give you." He stared out into the hall and up the dark stairs. "All the water you want, before we drown in it. Will that suffice? Romy?"