The Eternal Dungeon: a Turn-of-the-Century Toughs omnibus

by Dusk Peterson

CHAPTER SIX

  “You have taken a great deal of trouble to obtain the opportunity to speak with me, Mistress Birdesmond. I do not appreciate attempts to manipulate my Seekers.”

  Layle’s voice was soft; Weldon wondered whether Birdesmond knew enough to be wary. If she was afraid, she did not show it. On Weldon’s prior order, she had backed up to the far end of the cell, but she was staring unblinking at the hooded figure at the doorway. Staring at two hooded figures, for Elsdon, also with his face-cloth down, was standing beside the High Seeker. The junior Seeker’s eyes were turned toward Layle, who was framed by the open doorway and by the two guards in the corridor.

  Weldon forced himself to look back at the prisoner in his charge. With her head lifted high and in a clear voice, Birdesmond responded, “Sir, I have had no intention of manipulating Mr. Chapman.”

  The High Seeker said nothing. Weldon guessed that he must be raising his eyebrows. After a moment, Birdesmond said in a quieter voice, “Mr. Chapman seemed troubled when we spoke. Naturally, I wanted to help him in any way I could.”

  “Because you like him, or from a feeling of duty?” Layle’s reply was as quick and cutting as a well-swung ax.

  “I do not see that those two motives contradict each other.” Birdesmond’s voice remained calm.

  “There is a great deal of difference between private desire and public duty, Mistress Birdesmond. If you do not know that, then you are not a Seeker.” Layle’s voice was dark with condescension. Weldon wondered whether Birdesmond would recognize how many of the High Seeker’s biting responses were play-acting.

  Though it was always hard to tell with Layle. His play was his pleasure.

  Birdesmond did not blink. “No,” she agreed. “I am not a Seeker. The opportunity to receive a Seeker’s training has been denied me.”

  There was a pause. Stealing a glance at Layle, Weldon noticed that his eyes were shifted away from Birdesmond. This in itself was not unusual – the High Seeker was inclined to look away from prisoners periodically, for reasons Weldon had long since guessed. Even so, the sight increased Weldon’s uneasiness.

  “You committed no crime.” The High Seeker’s voice was flat. “You lied – you wasted my Seeker’s time – in an effort to overrule the decision I gave you.”

  “I assure you, sir, I have committed a crime.”

  “Oh?” The High Seeker’s voice was once more dark. “And do you think that prisons and dungeons hire criminals?”

  It was a question, not a statement. The High Seeker had always been skilled at misleading prisoners without breaking the Code’s rule against lying. But the falsehood of the statement that Layle was implying – not to mention its hypocrisy – was so strong that Weldon found himself biting down on his tongue. He glanced over at Birdesmond. He had not thought it was possible for her skin to grow any paler, but the ivory had turned to snow white.

  “Well?” Layle’s tone was light. “Either you committed a crime, or you lied about a crime – neither of these acts furthers your application, I assure you. Which of these ill deeds did you perpetrate?”

  “I committed a crime.” Birdesmond’s voice was low now; her hands had formed into fists.

  “Mistress Birdesmond,” Layle said, quite softly, “do not lie to me further. It is not wise.”

  “I’m not lying!” Birdesmond’s voice rose. “When I told others I had applied to become a Seeker, my parents threatened to lock me in my room till I came to my senses, my fiancé broke our engagement, and my friends discussed among themselves whether I should be sent to a home for mental healing. If my desire to be a Seeker isn’t a terrible crime, then tell me what I have done to be treated such!”

  Tears were running down her face now, hot water on a face as pale as ice. Weldon sucked in his breath, and then closed his mouth.

  Even Layle seemed to take his time in responding. Finally he said without emotion, “Mistress Birdesmond, I am sorry if you have been treated ill by your family and friends, but—”

  “No.” Mistress Birdesmond had removed a handkerchief from her skirt pocket and was wiping the tears away with what appeared to be angry strokes. “I apologize, sir,” she said, looking up. “I did not mean to give way like that. My troubles are of no importance; I would not have you train me out of pity. What matters is that I believe I have abilities that can help the prisoners here.”

  Layle ran his right thumb along a space just above the palm of his hand. It looked as though he were stroking an invisible blade. After a moment, he said, “The Codifier and I discussed your application at the time it first arrived. We agreed that, while you appeared to have some of the qualities we value in Seekers, we had no evidence that you possess the quality we desire most in Seekers.”

  Weldon held his breath, waiting to see whether Birdesmond would make the fatal error of promising to acquire this quality. Instead she said, “I am sorry to hear that, sir. May I ask whether the missing quality is being male?”

  “That factor entered into our decision, certainly. We believe that a female Seeker would cause . . . difficulties for the other Seekers.”

  “But surely, sir,” Birdesmond said in a voice once more calm, “what matters is not the Seekers’ welfare but the prisoners’.”

  Elsdon, still watching Layle with unwavering gaze, curled his fingers in a gesture known only to Seekers and guards. It was the equivalent of a thumbs-up. Weldon felt a smile touch his face briefly under his hood.

  “Our prisoners might feel somewhat uncomfortable also if required to take orders from a lady.” There was no sign from Layle’s voice or body whether he noticed the step forward that had just been taken.

  Birdesmond sighed as she pocketed the wet handkerchief and placed her hands behind her back, like a schoolgirl beginning a recital. “Sir, I do not see that it is any worse for a woman to work with male prisoners than it is for a man to work with female prisoners. But if you dislike that thought, then assign me only to your female prisoners. I would not want to hazard any guesses on the conduct of your Seekers, but I know that, in the lesser prisons, the rape of female prisoners is a constant danger. I could save your female prisoners from that.”

  Weldon realized after a moment that he had ceased to breathe. He let go of his breath slowly, not daring to look toward the High Seeker now.

  Layle said imperturbably, “Perhaps. But despite your unwillingness to take into account the Seekers’ feelings, they must be taken into account. Your presence here could disturb the Seekers—”

  “All of the Seekers, sir, or just you?”

  Weldon’s gaze snapped over to Layle. The High Seeker, staring fixedly at a spot just to the left of the prisoner, said, “I see no reason why this should be treated as a personal issue.”

  “But it is a personal issue, is it not, Mr. Smith? Since walking into this cell, you have not looked me straight in the eye, and while I do not know your normal routine here, I suspect that it is unusual for any Seeker to enter a cell accompanied by two other Seekers, with his guards standing in the open doorway behind, their hands on their daggers. What makes you fear me, sir, and what makes the others here fearful of your presence?”

  The room was utterly still. Layle’s guards, who were indeed touching their daggers, looked uneasy. Layle did not turn to look at them. After a moment, he said something soft that did not carry to Weldon’s end of the cell. Layle’s senior night guard promptly closed the door, staying outside – with his eye pressed to the watch-hole, no doubt. Weldon guessed that Layle had given the order, not to keep the guards out, but to ensure that no one else in the dungeon heard this part of the conversation.

  The High Seeker’s gaze travelled, ever so slowly, until it met Birdesmond’s eyes. All that Weldon could see from this distance was that Layle’s eyes were dark within the holes of his hood. Then Layle said, in a deeper voice than before, “Nine years ago, I sexually assaulted a female prisoner.”

  Weldon switched his gaze back to Birdesmond in time to see her suck in her breath. But there w
as no expression of shock on her face, nor any sign of fear. “I am sorry,” she said quietly. “It was generous of you to agree to this interview.”

  Layle nodded in acknowledgment of her remark. “I was generously dealt with at the time by those who decided my fate,” he said. “As you can see, I was permitted to continue in my work, since it was believed that I could show greater control over myself with male prisoners than I had with my female prisoner. Female prisoners had long been a particular problem for me. Therefore, one of the conditions placed upon me for my continued employment was that I have no future contact with female prisoners, except with the Codifier’s special permission. I fear that a female Seeker would cause . . . difficulties for me, Mistress Birdesmond.”

  “I fail to understand.” Mistress Birdesmond’s voice was firm. “Nothing about my presence requires you to visit female prisoners after today, sir. Surely you cannot mean that you are unable to bear the presence of all women – you have hundreds of women working for you in this dungeon.”

  “In the outer dungeon,” Layle amended. “I do not visit the public portions of the outer dungeon, except when accompanied by my guards or by my fellow Seekers.”

  “Mr. Chapman,” Birdesmond said, turning to Weldon, “am I mistaken, or did you not say that cleaning women work in the inner dungeon?”

  Weldon confined himself to a nod. He had given up all attempts to keep his eye fixed upon Birdesmond; his gaze kept wandering back to the High Seeker.

  Layle said, “This is true. But none of the outer dungeon women who are employed to clean the inner dungeon have ever been a prisoner. I am afraid” – his voice grew softer – “that makes a great deal of difference to me.”

  This time Weldon did not look at Birdesmond only because he could not bear to. After a minute, Birdesmond said quietly, “So you can work with women, but only if they have never been a prisoner here. And I thought I was being so clever in arranging this way to see you. Instead I was disqualifying myself completely from any hope of becoming a Seeker, wasn’t I?”

  “Madam, I very much regret that I must impose this rule on myself and the dungeon.” For the first time, something close to an emotion entered into Layle’s voice. “There have been times when I have been tempted to lay it aside and to permit the employment of former female prisoners in the inner dungeon. But recent events have impressed upon me that my own health is intimately linked with the health of the Eternal Dungeon, and my mind’s health requires—”

  “You need not speak further, sir.” Birdesmond’s voice was suddenly strong again. “If you were to assault a fellow Seeker, the Eternal Dungeon – and the prisoners – would lose your talents. I must admit to great disappointment at learning the consequences of my error, but that is of no matter. What matters is the prisoners’ welfare, not my own.”

  All was silent for a minute. No one moved or spoke – not the four persons in the room, nor the guards outside, who had been shifting in place a moment before. It was as though the cell had been suspended out of time, as the dead are suspended before their transformation into a new life.

  “I am glad to hear that you feel that way,” Layle said, taking a step back. His voice was cool and polite. “Mr. Taylor?”

  Elsdon was already rapping on the door; it was opened promptly by the High Seeker’s senior night guard. Layle swept out of the room. Elsdon paused only long enough to exchange a look with Weldon; then he stepped over the threshold, allowing the guards to close the door behind him.

  Birdesmond loosed her breath in one great, long sigh, as though she had been holding it through the entire interview. Weldon did not imitate her; his heart was pounding too hard to permit any loss of breath. “Well,” he said, to gain time, “what will you do now?”

  Birdesmond took out her crumpled handkerchief, refolded it, and placed it back in her pocket before saying, “Emigrate.”

  “Emigrate!”

  Birdesmond nodded. “I had already decided on that path if the High Seeker denied me again. There are other countries in the world where the Code of Seeking is used, albeit in a form that seems to me to be inferior to that of the Eternal Dungeon. I will apply to those other dungeons for work.”

  “But to leave your native land . . . Could you not be content with returning to Parkside Prison?”

  “No,” Birdesmond said simply. “I could not.”

  She turned to look at Weldon. In the flickering light from the fire behind the stones, Weldon could see that her eyelashes were covered with sparkling wetness, and he suspected that this was not due to the earlier tears. He said in an awkward manner, “Mistress Birdesmond, I would like to thank you for the help you have given to my—” He stopped; then, abandoning all pretense, he said, “The help you have given me.”

  “What will you do?” Birdesmond asked quietly.

  He took a deep breath. “What I have done. Continue to work as a Seeker.”

  “Despite the fact that your imprisonment here brings you deep pain?”

  “I have taken an oath to help the prisoners. I think you will understand . . .” He let his voice trail off, willing her to make the proper reply.

  “A Seeker must be willing to suffer for the prisoners,” she said softly. “Yes. Even endless pain is worth it, to fulfill those words.”

  Weldon said nothing. His ear was straining to hear the conversation taking place in the corridor, but the words outside had stopped. He was not surprised when, a moment later, the door opened, and Layle and Elsdon stepped inside once more.

  Birdesmond turned swiftly, her eyes widening and her hand going to her heart. It was an utterly feminine gesture, and Weldon cast a worried look at Layle.

  If Layle was affected by the sight before him, he gave no sign. “Mistress Birdesmond,” he said, “the final decision is not mine, but I wish you to know that I plan to recommend to the Codifier and the Queen that you be accepted for training as a Seeker – under one condition.”

  “Sir?” Birdesmond had turned pale again; her voice was breathless.

  “In the past, the Codifier has asked Mr. Taylor to serve as my chaperone when I felt need of his presence. I will ask that Mr. Taylor be assigned this duty again, and I will require, madam, that if you see me anywhere in the dungeon without my chaperone, you immediately call this fact to the attention of a guard. Under no circumstances are you to approach me if I am without escort. Are you willing to abide by this condition, until such time as I feel able to ask the Codifier to release me of my chaperone?”

  Birdesmond gave a shaky laugh. “Sir, if I saw you stalking toward me without anyone to restrain you, I would scream down the dungeon. But your health—”

  “Is a matter of grave concern to me and to others in this dungeon. However, I am equally concerned at finding qualified Seekers for the Eternal Dungeon. We are so short of Seekers at the moment that I cannot afford to turn aside a candidate who has proven herself to possess the quality we desire most in a Seeker.”

  “And that quality is . . . ?”

  “You are willing to suffer for the prisoners.”

  Layle’s voice was soft. He held Birdesmond’s gaze for a long moment as Birdesmond’s mouth opened, no doubt to make further protests about the High Seeker’s health. Then Layle’s eyes turned as hard as a heavy lash, and Birdesmond shut her mouth abruptly. Weldon was glad to see that she had sense enough to know when she was defeated.

  Layle switched his gaze to Weldon. “Thank you for your assistance, Mr. Chapman. I would appreciate it if you would arrange for Mistress Birdesmond’s release and see that she is placed in the guest apartment while she awaits the final decision.” He nodded his farewell to Birdesmond, then turned and left the cell, followed by Elsdon.

  As the cell door shut, Weldon found he was cursing himself inwardly.

  Sweet blood, would he never learn? “Thank you for your assistance” indeed. Every word that had been spoken in this cell since the High Seeker’s entrance, Weldon now realized, had been planned by Layle Smith. The High Seeker h
ad suspected, from Weldon’s testimony, that Birdesmond was qualified to be a Seeker, and he had arranged this conversation in such a manner that Birdesmond would be forced to indicate whether his suspicions were true. Even his confession about the assault, Weldon realized, had been planned.

  You have not failed me, Mr. Chapman. The words echoed in Weldon’s head. Perhaps Layle had known from the first day he had the Record-keeper assign Weldon to Birdesmond that matters would end this way. Perhaps all the pain Weldon had undergone in this cell was part of Layle’s plan to test the qualifications of Birdesmond.

  Perhaps. But he rather suspected that Layle had thought Weldon alone would be able to judge Birdesmond’s qualifications, and that the strength of Birdesmond’s abilities had taken Layle by surprise. And that too could be treated as proof that Mistress Birdesmond was qualified to be a Seeker.

  He looked over at Birdesmond, who was beginning to look thoughtful, as though she were tracing all of this in her own mind. Finally she turned her attention to him and said, “Well. So it is not farewell after all.”

  “It seems that it is not.” Weldon felt dizzy, as though he had watched a prisoner walk out of the dungeon and then turned to find her standing beside him. “Er . . . Welcome to the Eternal Dungeon.”

  “I have not been accepted as a Seeker yet,” Birdesmond reminded him.

  “No,” Weldon agreed. “But the High Seeker would not have told you of his recommendation if he were not confident that it would be approved. At the very least, I believe it is safe to say that you will be given the opportunity to train here, and to prove whether you are qualified to take your oath of eternal confinement.”

  “Mm.” Birdesmond’s eyes wandered away from him, considering the walls. “So six months from now, I could be a vowed Seeker. Tell me, Mr. Chapman, what was that you told me about Seekers being unable to marry? What was the reason again?”

  Weldon stared at her blankly. “Why, because Seekers cannot mate themselves with anyone who has not vowed—”

  He stopped, his breath shuddering as though he had been running through darkness for a long time and had suddenly reached a door. A smile curled onto Birdesmond’s lips.

  He whispered, “But . . . I would not have you take me out of pity . . .”

  “Pity?” Birdesmond raised her eyebrows. “Mr. Chapman, have you been listening to nothing I have said this week? I was scorned by men who thought ill of me for my unwomanly desire to work with prisoners. Then I meet a man who not only fails to scorn me, but is actually willing to allow me to search him. Do you really think I would pair myself with such a man out of pity?”

  “I . . .” He released his breath and tried again. “I cannot love you. You know that.”

  “Nor I you,” Birdesmond replied calmly. “That is, if by ‘love’ you mean passion of the heart and body. But if you should mean a desire to join fortunes with one another and care for each other and perhaps raise a family together . . . I think that you will find we have enough love to permit that.”

  Weldon licked his dry lips. “We will have to ask the Codifier if such a course would be permitted.”

  Birdesmond’s lips twitched into another smile. “Of course. But I wonder whether it has occurred to your Codifier that it could be useful to the High Seeker if his new female Seeker were not an unattached virgin, but instead someone’s wife?”

  This time Weldon did not answer. His hand moved, as though of its own accord, toward Birdesmond’s. Then he stopped himself quickly and stepped back.

  Fortunately, Birdesmond understood. “I’m still a prisoner,” she observed. “You can’t touch me.”

  “No,” responded Weldon. “So let us go and release you from your imprisonment, and then I will show you to your guest quarters, and then . . . Then I think I need to have a talk with the High Seeker. To see whether that cursed man planned this as well.” His voice broke with frustration.

  Birdesmond laughed. “Very well,” she said. “But be gentle on him, Mr. Chapman. He has already made a great sacrifice today for the Eternal Dungeon, much greater than I thought to ask of him. Do you know, I will look forward to working alongside him almost as much as I look forward to being with you?” And she walked to the door and then turned back, waiting for her new love.

  o—o—o

  o—o—o

  . . . Therefore, we will never fully know what we owe the men who worked in the Eternal Dungeon, particularly those who were employed there before its transition into modern prison conditions.

  It has been stated by a careless historian, for example, that the greatest sacrifice made by male Seekers at the time of Layle Smith was their willingness to allow women to become prison workers, at a time when it was popularly thought that such employment would bring destruction to any prison or dungeon. That many of the Seekers – most notably Layle Smith – were required to sacrifice their prejudices and their personal comfort cannot be denied. Yet the historian who made the above statement failed to recognize the far greater sacrifice made by male Seekers who, until this time, had been deprived of intimacy with women.

  We know, from the surviving editions of the Code of Seeking, that Seekers were not permitted to marry or to enter into more informal sexual arrangements with the women working in the outer portion of the dungeon. Some male Seekers, following long-time prison tradition, must have shared beds with one another. But this could not have been a satisfactory solution for all of the male Seekers, and when we think of how many Seekers over the decades were willing to remain celibate until the ends of their lives, we can imagine such men’s relief when the Codifier ruled, at the time that the first female Seeker arrived, that male and female Seekers could enter into marriage with one another.

  To say this is not to downplay the sacrifice made by Seekers who initially opposed the appointment of women to the role of Seeker. Indeed, history tells us clearly that Layle Smith’s personal fears on this matter were justified, and that his own sacrifice would be greater than that of any other Seeker. We may therefore regard Layle Smith, if not as the lone creator of transformation therapy, then as the Seeker who was most prepared to turn the principles of this therapy upon himself, thus making clear to the world the benefits of laying oneself open to the painful process of transformation.

  —Psychologists with Whips: A History of the Eternal Dungeon.

  Transformation 2

  TWISTS AND TURNS

  The year 357, the ninth month. (The year 1880 Fallow by the Old Calendar.)

  If one were to believe the popular ballads sung about the High Seeker, he spent the first thirty-six years of his life dealing death and destruction at every hand, reached the peak of his infamy by entering into madness (at which time, according to some of the more bizarre ballads, he proceeded to slaughter all the prisoners under his care in the Eternal Dungeon), and then, overnight, turned into a sane and happy man, spending the remainder of his life in unbroken peace.

  Of course, the truth is far more complex. For all of his recorded life, Layle Smith struggled with mental illness, and just nine months after he emerged from a brief spell of utter madness, he once again found that the future of his sanity was in question.

  We have more information about this second brush with madness than we do about the first. We know that its direct cause was the arrival of the first female Seeker at the Eternal Dungeon, an arrival that apparently broke the High Seeker’s painfully regained mental strength and plunged him back into danger of losing his mind.

  The true tale of the Eternal Dungeon, unlike the ballads written about that place, is full of unexpected twists and turns. For it was at this juncture in the history of Yclau’s dungeon that a fateful meeting occurred which would change the future of the queendom of Yclau. . . .

  —Psychologists with Whips: A History of the Eternal Dungeon.