He Drank, and Saw the Spider

by Alex Bledsoe

  The other people in line began to notice Isadora, floplimbed and slack-mouthed. Whispers spread out around me. The second rider ahead got through, which meant I only had a few more moments to come up with something brilliant.

  Then a new voice said, “I’ll handle this, good sir.” If it had been Crazy Jerry himself, I doubt I could’ve been more surprised. Billy Cudgel sat on his horse beside me, as nonchalant as if he’d been riding with me all along. “Where did you come from?” I managed to gasp.

  “Out of Lady Cudgel, by Lord John Cudgel,” he said with a satisfied grin. “I assure you, my family is quite distinguished.”

  “You’re the black sheep?”

  “Merely misunderstood in my time.”

  Now it was our turn, and two guards crossed their spears to block the way. “Not so fast,” the third one said. “Let’s see some papers.”

  “Do you know who I am?” Cudgel said in high dudgeon.

  “I will when you show me some identification. Don’t be a smart-ass, old man, I’ve been doing this all day and I’m tired.”

  “I am Sir William Cudgel, late of his majesty King Gerald’s employ, may the gods protect him. And known and treasured by the lady Opulora. My friends and I are traveling on the king’s very business.”

  “Is that a fact?”

  “It is indeed, sir.”

  “Well, since the king himself closed down the gates, you won’t mind proving that.”

  Cudgel slapped the man across the face with his reins. All conversation in the line behind us ceased.

  “You dare ask me for identification? I shall have you taken in irons before the king, and then delivered to the tender mercies of the lady Opulora. Do you know what she is capable of? There are monkeys afoot in the castle that used to be men, men such as yourselves with rude tongues. And you—” He pointed to one of the other guards. “Perhaps you favor being turned to stone? It can all be done, you know. There’s a whole garden filled with statues that were formerly insolent civilians. And you will join them, if you do not step aside and allow me and my friends entrance to the city.”

  He was good at this: his voice had the authority of someone used to being obeyed, and the guards crumbled under it. They stepped aside, all apologies, and we went through quickly.

  “There, you see?” Cudgel said calmly. “It’s all in your attitude. Act as if you have the power, and others will assume you do.”

  As we passed the guards, I saw only two of them: the one Billy had slapped, holding his injured cheek, and another who glared like an angry child. There had been three; had the third one gone ahead to warn someone?

  The streets were busy, and lamps lit all the taverns, boardinghouses, and other establishments that made their gold after dark. Carts and wagons headed out of town, their business done for the day, while pedestrians and carriages took their places.

  “Okay, so why are you here?” I said.

  Very theatrically, he said. “I found myself a bit despondent over my own behavior,” he said at last. “I genuinely like that young prince. And not in one of your seedy ways, I know what you’re thinking. No, I’m quite serious, and quite sincere. When I realized he was disappointed in me . . . I realized I was disappointed in myself.”

  “I’d say he was a bit more than disappointed in you.”

  “Indeed. And now, perhaps, I have a way to regain his good graces. By helping restore this young lady to his embrace.”

  He reached out to touch Isadora’s face, but I slapped his hand away. “Hands off, fat man. How the hell did you manage to arrive at the gate at the exact same time I did?”

  “Why, I followed you, my friend.”

  “You left that little town before I did.”

  “And I simply waited until you passed.”

  He was innocence personified, but the only reason I believed him was because he’d done it once before, when he followed us from Acheron to Mummerset. And truthfully, I had not worried about pursuit, assuming all my difficulties would be ahead. “I still don’t trust you.”

  “And you’d be wise not to, in most situations. But I truly wish to help. I believe you have a deadline to get your charge to the castle? Allow me to be your guide.” He nudged his horse forward, and I dropped in behind him. The moon had risen, and I knew we were getting close. I hoped “deadline,” in this case, was merely a word.

  We rode up to the castle courtyard’s main entrance, where two guards kept ceremonial watch on the drawbridge. They did not respond until Billy said, “I am Sir William Cudgel, and I must see the lady Opulora. She has left standing orders to admit me.”

  The guards exchanged a look, then stepped aside. We entered the courtyard, and two pages ran forward to take our reins. Torches lit the area, all the way up the stairs to the main hall’s doors.

  I untied Isadora and dismounted with her tossed over my shoulder. Once on the ground, I shifted her to a more dignified position, but she was still heavier than I expected, a total deadweight. Again, I hoped it was just a term.

  The pages led our horses off into the darkness, and Billy started the climb toward the main hall doors. I put my foot on the bottom step, then paused. “Hey,” I said quietly.

  He looked back, breathing heavily from the exertion. “Yes?”

  “This is the inner courtyard. Don’t you think there should be more—?”

  A dozen men, swords drawn and shields ready, came out of the shadows and, within moments, surrounded us. Except for the creak of their armor, they were silent, their faces set and determined behind their helmet grilles. Total pros, on the job.

  “Guards,” I finished belatedly.

  The great doors at the top of the stairs opened, and the same retinue we’d seen in the warehouse came down the steps toward us. They stopped just above Billy, then parted to reveal King Gerald.

  Billy dropped to one knee, or at least as close as a man of his bulk could get on these steep stairs. “Your Majesty, I—”

  “Lock him up,” Gerald said, “somewhere dark and uncomfortable.”

  Two of the men surrounding us sheathed their swords and grabbed Billy’s arms. They muscled him back down the stairs, past me and off into the shadows. He protested the whole way, but his words were useless, and after a door clanged shut, the courtyard was silent again.

  Gerald slowly descended toward me, and the guards stayed close. I couldn’t do much fighting with Isadora in my arms, and wouldn’t try to fight anyway. He stopped a few steps above me and said, “LaCrosse.”

  “Your Majesty,” I acknowledged. “I apologize for not kneeling, but I’ve got my hands full.”

  “Is this the girl?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean by that, Your Majesty,” I said honestly. I didn’t have a clue what he knew.

  The shadows were too dark for me to see his eyes clearly, even with the flames flickering around us, so I wasn’t sure if he was in crazy mode or not. His breath came out in raspy puffs, the steam backlit by the torches. Through clenched teeth, he said, “Is this . . . the girl . . . that Opulora wanted?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” I said.

  “Where is the monster?”

  “He’s indisposed.”

  His voice dropped to a whisper. “Did you kill him?”

  “No. But I don’t think you’ll be seeing him anymore. He’s off the payroll.”

  The king snorted. “So is his damned creator. I’ve had enough of Opulora and her machinations. This is my kingdom, I sit on the throne of my fathers, and she has interfered with my rule for the last time.”

  I chill ran up my back. “Is she dead?”

  “She should be. She’s locked away. My interrogators are with her. Soon I’ll know the answer.”

  “Answer to what?” I asked, dreading the response.

  He pointed at Isadora. “Who that damned girl really is.” Her condition finally registered on him. “What’s wrong with her, anyway?”

  “I don’t know. Tatterhead was bringing her to Opulora. He said only she
can save her.”

  Gerald hmphed in response. “All right, bring her in.”

  “Ah . . .”

  His demeanor darkened again. “What?” he snarled.

  “I was told there’s a deadline. If she doesn’t reach Opulora by midnight—”

  “Then what?” Gerald bellowed. “She turns into a pumpkin? Her magic carpet becomes a rug? Don’t give me any of that storybook mumbo jumbo. I’ve already had a bellyful from Opulora. I’m extending the hospitality of my palace to her, that damn well better be enough. She’s not even Mahnoman, she’s some foreign peasant.”

  I remembered Ellis’s ring, but this didn’t seem the time to play that card. I followed Gerald up the stairs into the main hall. I had at least two hours until midnight—two hours to convince an unstable king to free an imprisoned sorceress, and to hope I was able to do again what I’d done once before: save Isadora.

  Chapter

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Apair of bulky, sour-faced matrons took Isadora from me. I started to resist, but the guards surrounding me forced me to reconsider. As soon as Isadora was out of my arms, one of them pulled my sword from its scabbard. Then another pushed me, reasonably gently, against the wall face- first and patted me down. He missed my boot knife, which lay hidden along a seam, but against a bunch of professional guards, I was essentially weaponless. Well, except for my charm.

  Then I was ushered into the throne room. It was a standard setup, with a long open floor where banquet tables could be placed. At the far end was a raised dais with three steps leading up to the actual seat of power, now occupied by an impatientlooking King Gerald. The only thing missing were courtiers and servants; except for the guards, Gerald and I were alone.

  As soon as I got close enough, he said, “So tell me more about this girl. Where is she from?”

  This time I knelt, bowed my head and said, “She’s been raised by a shepherd family in Altura. She was found as a baby in the nearby woods.”

  “Is that their story?” he said sarcastically. He gestured that I could stand.

  “It’s the truth.” I figured I had little to lose by taking the initiative, so I said, “May I speak with Opulora?”

  “Why? I’ve had my best interrogators working on her, and they’ve gotten nothing.”

  That sent a chill through me. No one got interrogated if they were still on the king’s good side, so apparently things had changed. And what professional interrogators left behind often no longer counted as human. Still, I had to try. “Interrogators try to make people talk. I try to make people want to talk.”

  He regarded me skeptically. “Are you that good?”

  “I get twenty-five gold pieces a day plus expenses.”

  “You’re a foreign national coming into my court in the company of that known criminal, Billy Cudgel. Why should I trust you?”

  “Because your interrogators have failed, and I might not. What have you got to lose?”

  “You seem very eager.”

  “I am. I need to know what’s wrong with the girl, and Opulora’s the only one who can tell me.”

  “You say.”

  “I say.”

  “She’s a lying, conniving bitch, that one. You wouldn’t believe what she told me about that girl.”

  “What was it?”

  He snorted contemptuously. “Like I said, you wouldn’t believe it. Let’s see if she tells you the same bullshit story. Hector, take him to the dungeon.”

  One of the guards stepped forward and took my arm, firmly but not obnoxiously. I recognized him as the same one who’d been in disguise as the king when Liz and I delivered the dishes. “Yes, Your Majesty,” he said.

  “Lock him in with her, though,” Gerald continued. “I don’t want an open door anywhere between her and me. Let him out when he finishes, and bring him straight here.”

  I said, “Will Isadora—?”

  “Your damn shepherd girl will be fine, whoever she is. But if this is some trick to try to break that bitch out of her cell, you’ll find Mahnoman hospitality to be very, very painful.”

  Hector led me mostly down. Steps spiraled at least three floors into the earth like a corkscrew digging a post hole. We saw no one else, no other guards or prisoners, and the air grew heavy, still and cool. Our boots echoed off the stone around us. There weren’t even lamps; only his torch lit the way. We paused often so he could unlock thick, old doors.

  We emerged at last into a dungeon hallway. Cells lined each side, but they were all empty, and the dust told me how long it had been since they’d been used. That surprised me; I’d expected them to be filled with enemies of the king and/or Opulora.

  Hector read my thoughts. “Yeah, you’d expect lots of political prisoners, what with the whole ‘Crazy Jerry’ reputation. But really, there’s not much unrest, because everything is peaceful, everyone has enough food and shelter, and no one wants to see that end. You’ve got the religious nuts who claim their gods told them to depose the king, but if they make too much noise, we just exile ’em.”

  “What about Opulora? Doesn’t she have enemies?”

  He shrugged. “She’s just a name to most people. She never leaves the castle, and hardly ever leaves her own chambers. Hell, I’ve only seen her in person a dozen times.”

  “Why did she lose favor with the king?”

  “I don’t know. She tried to tell him something. Whatever it was, it made him furious, and he started slapping her. I’ve seen him mad before—angry, I mean, not crazy—but never like that. We finally had to pull him off her to stop him from killing her.”

  “And you have no idea what they were talking about?”

  He shook his head. “And I wouldn’t ask him about it, either. I thought Crazy Jerry was long gone, but he’s always been there, right under the surface. It just takes the right, tiny little thing to set him off. I think it’s time for me to look for another job.”

  I filed this away. Opulora knew Izzy was returning, although of course she expected Tatterhead to be bringing her in, not me. So she’d tried to prepare Gerald for whatever revelation the girl represented. And it had not gone well at all.

  After we’d reached another door and started down another spiral staircase, his voice dropped to almost a whisper. “Was it true what you said? About Tatterhead?”

  “Yeah. He’s off on his own now. I don’t think you’ll hear from him again.”

  “Between you and me, that’s the scariest son of a bitch I’ve ever seen. When I was a baby, my mom used to tell me bedtime stories about trolls and goblins that would snatch up kids who didn’t behave. If I’d known those things were real, I’d have eaten my damn vegetables more often.”

  “Did you ever talk to him?”

  “Tatterhead? No. I hated it when I even had to see him. His smell made my eyes water and he tended to break things without meaning to. Including people, a couple of times.” He shook his head. “Opulora won’t be happy to hear that he’s gone, though. I think a lot of her influence came from controlling him. Then again, it’s the least of her worries right now.”

  In addition to the increasing chill as we descended, there was also a gradually strengthening odor. I’d been in working dungeons before and knew that smell: technically it was body odor, but it always came to represent the scent of despair, if such feelings had smells. It wasn’t strong, but it was definitely present. Somewhere close, someone had given up hope of ever leaving this hole.

  We reached a final solid door with a tiny, barred window no bigger than my hand. A ribbon was tied to one of the bars, with a small bell on the end. Hector said, “Here’s where I stop. Go through this door, down another flight of stairs, and you’ll find a room with a single cell. Opulora’s inside it, or at least she better be.” He lit a torch in a wall sconce and handed me the one he’d carried.

  We both jumped when the door suddenly swung open, and two men stepped through. They were thin and insectlike, with long fingers and big eyes. They reminded me of animals that lived in caves
and never saw sunlight. One of them carried a small satchel. They were as surprised as we were, but covered it faster.

  “There’s been no progress,” one of them said in a properly reedy voice. “She continues to resist.”

  I knew what they were then: the interrogators Gerald had mentioned. I said, “Is she conscious?”

  He fixed those big, shimmery eyes on me. The torchlight sparkled off the abnormally large pupils. “And who are you?”

  “The king sent him,” Hector said.

  “We will get the information,” the other interrogator said defensively. “No one can resist our skills for long. The king certainly doesn’t need to bring in—” He curled one lip disdainfully, revealing a set of gleaming, perfect teeth that could not possibly be natural. “—freelancers,” he finished with contempt.

  “That’s for the king to decide,” Hector said. “Go make your report. He’s waiting, and hates waiting.”

  The interrogators scurried past us. When they skittering footsteps had faded, Hector said, “Man, those guys give me the creeps.”

  “Reasonable reaction,” I agreed.

  He held open the door for me. “I’ll be waiting here. Ring this bell when you want to get out.”

  The door closed behind me with a finality that would’ve certainly prompted many a prisoner to change his mind about his silence. The torch illuminated only a few feet down the stairs ahead, leaving most of the descent in pitch blackness. The smell of old urine, fresh mold, and damp rock rose from the darkness. Except for Hector’s soft, nervous humming behind me, there was no sound.

  I continued down until all light through the door above faded, and nothing shone from below. I moved in a little bubble of torchlight. At last the stairs dead-ended in a room empty except for a large cage in the middle of the floor. The bars were embedded in the ground and ceiling, and there were two locks on the door, no doubt requiring two separate keys. It reminded me of a prison I’d visited in the desert outside Mosinee. At the top of a tower, with no entrance or exit, they kept their most dangerous prisoner. He was denied all human contact until he agreed to tell where he’d hidden a treasure. As far as I knew, he was still there. Certainly Opulora was still here.