by Allan Cole
"Will they try again?"
"Perhaps," Janos said indifferently. "We will sleep but lightly anyway. I can think of some words that will cause that straw underfoot to crackle like great trees being broken should anyone they approach us."
Thus began the second phase of our imprisonment. Somehow, as we dozed, the bodies of the men we had slain were removed from the cell without our hearing. We were not bothered by the coterie of prisoners who ran the cell with their brutality. I saw how they treated the weaker prisoners, and wanted to intervene. Janos forbade it. "We've carved our own niche in this little society of the damned. They will leave us alone, so long as we don't interfere with their... interests." I grudged the probable wisdom of what he said, and tried not to listen to the sounds as they indulged themselves. I found I could shut out those noises, just as my eyes could look out beyond the bars into the torture chamber, and not see what agonies were being inflicted. Twice prisoners from our cell were taken out and put on the rack. Some of their fellows found this most entertaining.
We could not tell what was day, nor what was night. I tried to keep track by our meals, assuming we were fed the stinking gruel and rotten bread once a day. Janos told me not to bother - another common jailer's trick to weaken a prisoner was to feed him at irregular intervals. He might eat three times in one day, and think three days had passed, then not at all for three days and think the most interminable day of his life had just gone by. I figured later we were in that foul cell almost a month.
We inquired about our fellow prisoners. Some of them had offended the politics, such as they were, of the Archons or Lycanth; but most were common criminals - of a particularly depraved nature, admittedly, but at least we weren't in the last citadel of the doomed. This was confirmed when we saw one man released from the cell. He babbled thanks, and tears, attempting to kiss the boot top of the guard who opened the cell door.
I knew we were being held here to further weaken our resolve. I guessed that next would come the torture chamber. "Possibly," Janos said. "Or possibly they will seclude us and smash at us with their full magickal power." I thought that reaffirmed that we were not in the worst part of the Archons' dungeons, but said nothing to Janos. Neither of our spirits needed any further degradation.
Then came a lift. A prisoner received a visitor! It was a woman, a slattern who claimed to be his wife. She was not only permitted to see him - the torture chamber's doors being of course shut during that time - but they were allowed to use the guardroom for a few minutes for their own purpose. A few days later, if days they were, a man's brother came. I noticed they spent most of their time drawing what looked to be plans of the inside of a building and talking in low tones. We asked eagerly, for details on visitation rights, and were told that with enough gold, any of the prisoners except, those imprisoned for their beliefs, might be allowed visitors. Depending on the whims of the guard officer. Sometimes there would be a price in addition to money, a prisoner said. The slattern, he rather imagined, would have been required to attend to at least some of the guards' pleasures before seeing her "husband."
"If someone from the outside can enter," Janos mused softly, "then it might be possible for someone... two someones... from the inside to leave, might it not? Before the third part of the Archons' plan is put into motion."
"How?"
"I do not know," he said. "Let me consider how we can cast for a visitor all our very own." But we did not need a scheme. Shortly afterward, our visitor came to us. Two guards escorted a man into the chamber. He was not tall, but very bulky and misshapen, shambling like a half-man, half-beast. The guards bellowed for a prisoner, who grunted in surprise, then made his way to the bars. I saw gold glint, and the guards left. The misshapen one said a few words to the prisoner and then the man - a thug who'd been imprisoned for a particularly barbaric murder for hire - came over to us.
"You. He's for you." I gaped, and then both Janos and I recognized the man outside the bars. I should have known him earlier. It was Greif, my nightmare-warden and Janos real-life procurer of sorcerous matter. Again I heard that mellow bass voice curl out from the broken face.
"Lord Antero. Cap'n Greycloak. Looks like th' wheel's come round 'gain, don't it?"
"How did you know that we were--" Janos began.
"Seal it," Greif said impatiently. "Greif gets all that's worth knowin' in Lycanth. I heard, an' bought in, 'cause I know Rolfe, there, so there'll be no s'spicion a'terwards."
"Afterwards?" I asked.
"You too," he said. "Keep it shut! There ain't time! Don't need t' be here, i' one a' th' Archons' Evocators has a spirit look-roun' down here. An' I s'spec' Symeon's got his own wizards castin' warnin' spells aroun' you two, makin' sure you stay where he put y'."
"You can get us out?" Janos had figured out what Greif meant. Greif smiled that twisted smile, and nodded.
"I can. An' it'll cost, cost dear. I know an Evocator a' my own. Works th' dark side a' th' street, an' got read out for so doin'. I'll need gold... gold 'nough t' move me leagues beyond Lycanth, an' beyond th' reach a' th' wrath a' Symeon an' the Archons."
"You'll have it," I said. "And you'll have a new life. In Orissa or wherever. How much gold?"
"Half," Greif announced firmly. "Half of all th' Antero gold. Figure that for a headprice is cheap, there bein' no Antero's but th' sister with no interest in birthin', an' brothers whose spawn won't stretch beyond th' countin' room."
"You know a great deal about my family," I said.
"This'll be th' one chance I'll have," Greif said. "Enough gold so there won't be no slut, nor boy neither, say nay t' what I pr'pose. Gold so I can tell any watch officer t' shit in his hat, an' he'll do it, clap it on his head, claim it th' latest style an' parade away with a smile! Knowin' that, I done my studyin' afore I come to see you."
"I have gold... a great deal of gold not far from Lycanth," I said. "But it would take much time to convert half my holdings to cash, and then have the gold taken to wherever you want it."
"And we don't have time either," Janos put in. "The patience of the Archons is not known for being great."
"Fact is," Greif assented, "y're for th' Question, I heard, in a few days. First over there..." and he nodded toward the closed doors to the torture chamber and I realized he did, indeed, know a vast amount about this prison and our dilemma, "then i' front a three Evocators, in triad. Wi' th' Archons' full powers behin' them. You'll break... an' there'll be nothin' left but a couple burnt husks fitten for no more'n beggin' in th' streets after, assumin' they'll let you loose some year."
"So how do I make you rich, then?," I continued. "I don't expect you to trust me to make payment after we're out. Speaking of that, just how will you be able to get us out, anyway?"
"You don't need t' be knowin' that," Greif said. "As t' th' first, I do trust you. Ain't never heard tale of any Antero breakin' his bond. But I'll have gifts of y' both, t' ensure. A bit a' blood, a bit a' hair, a bit a' skin, a bit a' y'r juices. F'r insurance."
I looked at Janos. He was expressionless. What choice did we have? Even if the escape attempt failed, what could be done to us? They wouldn't kill us, not until they found what they wanted. So we'd most likely get no more than a beating, be returned to the cell and our appointment with the inquisitors moved closer. I stuck my hands through the bars, and Greif and I touched palms.
"May m' eyes be stricken, may m' mouth be burnt out, may m' ears seal'd, may m' life ended if I break this oath that I'll see y' both beyond this cell, an' walkin' free in th' world," he said. I repeated his oath, changing the last to "if I fail to reward this man as he deserves and heap him with the honor he shall have earned."
"Now. You wait. You just wait," and Greif went back down the corridor, shouting for the guards.
We did. One bowl of gruel... another... and yet a third. Janos stalked back and forth, unable to eat, unable to sleep. I pretended calm, but wanted to follow his lead.
I woke to the sound of windroar, snapped awake, and saw G
reif, pacing into the chamber. He held, level with the ground, a staff of some sort. I could hear him muttering as he approached. The muttering - and windroar - stopped. He whispered, and the bars slid open, the ancient rusted iron moving as smoothly as new-cast, greased steel. Instantly Janos and I were out of the cell. None of the other prisoners seemed to notice either the door opening, our exit, nor the door closing. Greif set the staff down, and took two hooded cloaks from the small pack he was wearing. He motioned us to pull them on, then handed us each a scrap of paper.
On mine was scrawled: SAE NUTHING. FOLOW ME. WISPER WORDS ALOTHEM, BERENTA, ALOTHEM.
He picked up the staff, and, again holding it level, paced away, toward the stairs and the guardroom, muttering his spell. The windroar began once more. I saw sweat was rolling down Greif's face in spite of the dank cold. We followed him, obeying instructions, whispering the two words of what must be the spell he'd gotten from the "criminal" Evocator. We passed the guardroom. Half the guards snored, but five or six appeared awake. They did not see us. We started up the stairs. As we approached each of the sealed doors, Greif would touch them with first one, then the other end of his staff, and they would spring open.
We reached the main floor of the castle. Here there were pacing guards, but none of them saw us. I realized Janos had stopped, and turned. He was stretching up, reaching to where a pitch-soaked torch flared. He touched it for a moment, then dropped his hand, as Greif turned and impatiently beckoned. Then we were outside the sea-castle, in the courtyard, where rain roared and smashed against the stone. I tasted its sweetness and heard the splashing, something I never had expected to taste or hear again. There was a carriage waiting, with four horses, a coachman and four outriders beside it. It looked as if it might belong to a rich man, just the man who might have very private business with the Archons or their priests at this hour. Greif motioned us inside. He stopped his spell.
"Now. You stay in. Don't look out. This'll take us to th' next step. Then we'll get out of the city. Start thinkin', Antero, how quick you can scrape up m' gold." He slammed the coach door. The blinds were drawn tight, and it was almost dark inside the carriage. We could see nothing through the blinds. The coach swayed on its springs as Greif climbed up on the step, and then we were moving. I breathed relief.
"Not yet," Janos said. "When we are beyond where their wall once stretched, beyond that and their patrols."
I brought myself back to alertness. "What were you doing, back there with the torch?"
"No bowman carries but one string," Janos said obliquely, "I felt I might need some pitch." He held his fingers up, and began whispering,
"Fire my friend
Fire you hear
Fire my friend
Fire you hear
Fire you remember
Fire you hear"
There were other words, in a tongue I did not know. I had no idea what he was preparing, nor why. So I concentrated on the sounds outside, the crash of the wheels against cobbled streets, the shouted challenges from patrols or watchmen, Greif bellowing the password, the crack of the whip, the clatter of hooves. The carriage swayed as we turned corners. I tried to figure where we were going, but gave it up, being almost completely unfamiliar with the streets of Lycanth. I asked Janos if he could tell, and he waved me to silence, never stopping his whisper.
I heard the crash of opening gates, and the sound of great hinges as the coach passed through, and I could hear the note of the wheels change from cobbles to smooth paving. The gate boomed closed behind us. The coach came to a halt. We sat in dimness and silence, then the door was jerked open, and torchlight blazed.
"Out!" It was a command. I slid out, blinking, We were in a great courtyard, and the carriage was drawn up near one of the courtyard's high walls. In front of us was Nisou Symeon. Behind him were twenty heavily-armed soldiers. We had been betrayed from one trap into another.
"I welcome you, Lord Amalric Antero, to the somewhat unique pleasures of my house."
The world shuddered and reeled. I wanted to shout obscenities, hurl myself at Greif who stood not far behind Symeon, a twisted smile of mockery on his face, rip at Symeon even though I knew I would be impaled on the soldiers' spears a moment later. I fought for control, a fight as bitter as any I have waged in my life, and somehow found it, although it might have taken seconds or minutes.
"Why?" I managed. "You had us in the dungeon. Sooner or later, the Evocators or the torturers would have begun. Or do you have some super-sorcerer waiting? I assume you still wish what secrets you imagine we possess."
"Possibly," Symeon said. "As to why? Circumstances may have changed from a short time ago."
"I see. So you're planning to keep the information you hope to extract from us from your masters?"
Janos walked toward Symeon, moving as if he were some great bewildered lummox. "Why are you going to betray the Archons?" He had his hands stretched out, as if in bewilderment. One of them brushed the edge Symeon's robe.
"Get back, you!" Symeon snapped, and one of the soldiers dropped his spear until the point was at Janos' chest. Janos did as ordered. "I do not speak to minions," Symeon went on. "Especially one who is a traitor to the cause he served."
"Traitor, Nisou Symeon?" I asked. "From one who is directly betraying the Archons?"
"I am loyal," he said, "to the master whose oath I have taken! As I have said, circumstances have changed. The knowledge I wish from you has become of secondary import. Enough. You are to go inside, and the soldiers will conduct you to your resting place. It is fully as secure as any of the Archons' dungeons. I will tell you now, this will be your last sight of the heavens, rain-drenched though they be. Waste no time on words therefore, but enjoy them."
I realized Janos was whispering:
"Fire my friend
Fire you hear
Fire you burn
Remember your brother
Fire my friend
Fire you BURN!"
The pitch from the torch "remembered," flickered, and Symeon's robes suddenly caught fire. The flames, built by sorcery as much as by dry cloth, roared up, the rain having little effect. Symeon screamed agony. The soldiers were a shambles of confusion and shouts.
"Up," Janos shouted, and sprang to the doorway of the coach, stretching up for the roof. The spearman who'd confronted him, a bit more alert than the others, dashed forward, ready for a thrust, and I kicked his feet from under him, and had the spear. Janos bounced twice on the coach top, then leaped - fingers catching the edge of the wall - and pulled himself up. I dashed forward, foot on the wheel, about to spring for the coach roof. Hands pulled at me. I lashed backward with the spear butt and heard a scream, louder even than the ones from the living torch that Symeon had become, and was on the coach top. Lighter, smaller and more gymnastic than Janos, I leapt, and had the walltop under my elbows, and Janos pulled me to my feet.
I had but one moment to look behind me, and saw Greif, staggering backward, howling, hands clapped over his eye. Nisou Symeon was on the ground, soldiers diving to cover him and smother the flames, and then we jumped - chancing the long drop to whatever might lie below.
We landed on cobblestones, recovered, and then we were running, running as hard as ever we had in this life, running into the night, into the rain, and now I praised the gods of Orissa we had torn down Lycanth's great wall. If we could make it through their streets and past whatever night patrols they had, was freedom. Freedom and home. I knew we would find safety. After escaping from the clutches of the Archons and Symeon, there could be nothing but good ahead.
* * *
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CASSINI'S REVENGE
Our first sight of Orissa, however, made me certain that "good," whatever it might be, still lay in the distant future. Smoke curled from several places inside the city, and the river was ominously deserted. I could see no sign of activity around the docks. The city gate we approached confirmed trouble. The huge ironwood gates were closed, which never happened e
xcept in direst emergency. Above them, on the catwalk, was a full squad of soldiers, dressed not in ceremonial armor but in full fighting gear.
"Who comes?"
"Lord Amalric Antero and Captain Janos Greycloak, Orissans."
There were surprised exclamations from above, a warrant officer's sharp command, and then the gates swung open, without anyone acknowledging us. We entered. The sallyports were also closed, and for a moment, I felt we'd entered yet another trap. Then they opened. The soldiers who'd opened the portals also did no more than come to attention, and did not salute either of us as they should have. We said nothing, but hastened toward the Antero villa.
Once beyond Lycanth's wall, Janos and I had chanced going to the inn where I had left my men and gold. The keeper told us they'd returned home, sure of their lord's demise, weeks earlier. Perhaps it was to the good there'd been just the two of us. We were armed only with the spear I'd grabbed in Symeon's courtyard and an evil-looking brushcutter Janos had cozened from the innkeeper. We'd travelled crosscountry as much as possible, because the roads and hills were alive with patrols. There were not only patrols in Lycanthian uniform, but cavalry sweeps whose men wore the livery of the Symeon household. "So I did not cremate him as I intended," Janos said. I, too, was disappointed. Supposedly no man should coldbloodedly wish the death of another, but I knew my life, my family, my clan, my household, and any generation of Antero to come would be in jeopardy until the Symeons were destroyed. I knew I would not be able to mount the blood feud for some time to come. But that would be in the future - at the moment it was enough we'd d managed to slip past all Lycanthian units without problem, and arrived home.