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

by Dusk Peterson

CHAPTER THREE

  The presence of Layle Smith in the Eternal Dungeon, Barrett thought as he squeezed his way past the junior guards at the front of the entry hall, caused everything in the dungeon to be run topsy-turvy.

  It was not the first time he had held this thought, but he rarely had the opportunity to see his viewpoint incarnated in so visible a manner. In the royal army, Barrett knew, the announcement of important news took place in a precise fashion. The chief general informed his highest officers, who in turn informed the officers just below them, until, after a day or so, the news trickled down to the bottom ranks. This was how most of the world worked, as far as Barrett could tell.

  But not in the Eternal Dungeon – not under Layle Smith’s High Seekership. Here, important news was announced to everyone at once; nor would the highest ranked Seekers be placed closest to the High Seeker as he made his announcement. Instead, the junior-most members of the inner dungeon, the junior guards, would stand nearest the platform that was placed in the portion of the entry hall where the Record-keeper’s desk usually stood. The High Seeker’s theory, it was said, was that the junior guards should be in a location where they could easily ask questions, since they were the ones most likely to have questions. Standing behind them would be the senior guards, while behind the guards, sitting on chairs on tables so that they could easily watch the proceedings, were the junior Seekers. Last of all, standing far away on the steps that led out of the dungeon’s caverns, were the senior Seekers. The senior Seekers rarely spoke during such meetings, but they, like the others, were welcome to ask the High Seeker whatever questions they had, as though the High Seeker were nothing more than a schoolmaster giving lessons, rather than the man whose word determined how the dungeon was run.

  That ordering was the theory, at any rate, but Barrett was not surprised to notice a black-hooded man standing in the front row, alongside the junior guards. That was unfailingly Elsdon Taylor’s position during such meetings; he always kept close to the High Seeker so that he could provide moral support to Mr. Smith in the minutes following any announcement that disgruntled the dungeon dwellers. Knowing Mr. Taylor’s reputation for heterodoxy, Barrett had no doubt that Mr. Taylor followed up such public support by shoving hot protests of his own at the High Seeker when they were in private. But whenever in public, Mr. Taylor was a solid foundation of support for the High Seeker.

  Mr. Boyd reached the back of the crowd of senior guards, who were spread from one wall of the entry hall to another. The entry hall was the largest room in the inner dungeon, other than the crematorium, but with so many dungeon dwellers here today, Barrett found himself bumping into guards as he passed along the side of one of the tables, seeking a clear space. His head brushed against the foot of a junior Seeker who had his legs crossed as he sat in a chair on the table, and Barrett opened his mouth to apologize.

  He swallowed his words as he looked up. Mr. Urman, holding a folded newspaper in one hand, sat slouched in the chair above, his collar unclasped and his shirt unknotted at the top, as though he were sitting in a beach chair rather than in a chair reserved for the junior Seekers. As Barrett watched, Mr. Urman, without raising his eyes from the newsprint, fished into his pocket, drew out a piece of chickory gum, and popped it into his mouth, blithely ignoring the curious stares of the junior Seekers on either side of him.

  Mr. Boyd quickly looked round. It took him a moment to locate Mr. Sobel; the senior-most guard had positioned himself apart from the other dungeon dwellers, on an upswelling of the uneven cavern floor, which allowed him to easily survey everyone in the entry hall. That Mr. Sobel knew where Mr. Urman was seated, Barrett had no doubt. Barrett decided that Mr. Sobel was right to take no official notice of the fact that Mr. Urman had taken Mr. Taylor’s vacated seat. The junior guard had black rings under his eyes; he had been awake now for thirty-six hours and would have to continue to stay awake until this meeting was through. He looked like dry tinder, just waiting for a spark.

  Mr. Urman looked casually over his shoulder, as though watching children frolic in the waves. Barrett guessed he was trying to check whether Mr. Sobel had sighted him yet. Whatever the junior guard saw startled him so much that he slid quickly out of the chair and jumped down onto the floor beside Barrett.

  A moment later, Barrett recognized what had caused Mr. Urman to move so quickly. Murmurs rose in the entry hall as a pathway opened among the tightly crowded senior guards to let through the new arrivals: a pair of the Queen’s guards flanking an elderly man who had all the signs of being a magistrate.

  Mr. Urman whistled lightly as the path closed again in the procession’s wake. “This must be an important meeting if the Queen sends her representative.”

  Barrett decided that he too would ignore Mr. Urman’s previous impertinence, even though the junior guard had slid himself onto the edge of the table in order to see better as the Queen’s guards and the magistrate took up positions at the back of the platform. Instead, Barrett pointed and said, “Not just the Queen’s representative either. Look.”

  At the left-hand side of the room, near the door leading to the corridor where the prisoners’ cells lay, a man was emerging from an inconspicuous doorway: the Codifier, rarely seen outside his office except when a prisoner was reported to have been abused by a Seeker or guard, or else during the Codifier’s periodic, unannounced, terrifying visits to the prisoners’ cells, when he checked to see whether the Code was being adhered to.

  “The Queen’s magistrate. The Codifier. This meeting must be about the Code, then,” Mr. Urman concluded. “Do you suppose the Queen has abolished the Code?”

  Barrett gave him a sharp look. “Don’t say that, even in mock.”

  Mr. Urman shrugged and returned to his newspaper. Barrett looked back at the Codifier. One of the Codifier’s guards had brought forward a chair for the man whose power was so great that he, alone of all the dungeon dwellers, had the right to overrule the High Seeker’s decisions. The Codifier shook his head and remained standing against the wall, turning to speak to the healer.

  Barrett frowned. The healer’s presence here was no surprise, since the healer worked under the Codifier and was entitled to attend such meetings. But this was not their regular healer, who was taking a much-deserved holiday after a quarter century of working in the dungeon.

  Barrett liked to think that he was a forward-looking man. He was one of the few guards who had welcomed the arrival of the first female Seeker. He had long believed that female prisoners, who were never tortured, should be searched by a woman.

  But a lady healer was another thing entirely. Among the healer’s many duties was that he or she must give medical approval before any prisoner was tortured. In cases of beatings, this approval was almost routinely granted, even before the Seeker first entered his prisoner’s cell. But prisoners destined for rackings were more strenuously examined. Fully a quarter of the prisoners whom the Seekers wished to rack were not racked, due to the dungeon’s healer denying permission on medical grounds.

  Barrett suspected that the number of denials would rise to one hundred percent under the substitute healer. He could not imagine any woman having the strength to say, “You may place this man on an instrument of torture and stretch him until he cooperates.” Barrett often wondered how he himself found the strength to be the one to turn the wheel.

  Beside him, Mr. Urman cracked his gum as he turned a page. Barrett leaned back so that he could see what Mr. Urman was reading and learn what was taking place in the lighted world. One of the few advantages of living in the Eternal Dungeon, Barrett decided as he scanned the page, was that the dungeon received no delivery of newspapers. The news was as bad as always: charges against factory owners of abusive work conditions, illegal rallies by disgruntled workers, illegal strikes led by the new and surprisingly powerful Commoners’ Guild, and an editor’s note attributing the city’s rising crime to the magistrates’ softness with criminals.

  “More hangings,” murmured Mr. Urman, voicing Barre
tt’s thought.

  Barrett nodded. “That’s what it will mean in the short run: more men and women will go to the gallows as the magistrates try to show to the world how fierce they are. It happens periodically.”

  Mr. Urman turned a page. “Maybe the magistrates will keep more death-sentence criminals off the streets. Rather than let murderers and rapists go free, the way the Code urges.”

  Barrett frowned. “Are you questioning the Code’s views on this? The Seekers provide a balance: the patrol soldiers who give witness against the prisoner try to obtain a heavy sentence for him, while the Seeker tries to prove his innocence or obtain a light sentence for him. The magistrate decides which argument is right. That is, when the magistrates aren’t cowering in fear of the press.”

  Mr. Urman grinned at him. “Do you know the easiest way to get anyone riled in this dungeon, Mr. Boyd? Question our holy book. Nobody wants to admit that the Code of Seeking might have a few flaws in it.”

  Barrett strove to keep his voice level as he asked, “Do you wish to abolish the Code?”

  Mr. Urman’s gaze drifted back to the newspaper. “I’ve worked at one of the lesser prisons. I’ve seen the alternative.”

  It was a comment requiring no reply. Barrett leaned back again, scanning the foreign news columns, which were mainly filled with war-scare articles. Having served in an earlier outbreak of war against Vovim, Barrett felt a moment of relief that his job as dungeon guard shielded him from call-up orders . . . then a moment of guilt that someone else might die in his place.

  Mr. Urman’s breath travelled in with such suddenness that he apparently swallowed his gum. Barrett pounded the junior guard on the back as he coughed, but already Mr. Urman had slipped off the table. Within moments, he was pushing his way through the crowd.

  Curious, Barrett followed him, and then hesitated when he saw Mr. Urman’s destination. Barrett, of all people, knew that it was wrong to disturb a pair of senior and junior guards when they were in private conversation with one another. But he did not know whether this was a private conversation, he reminded himself as he started across the empty space leading to where Mr. Urman and Mr. Sobel stood.

  The entry hall was loud with conversation now, but not so loud that Barrett failed to hear the rustling in the high darkness above. Dusk was nearing. As he came close to the upswelling of ground where Mr. Sobel had placed himself, Barrett realized that this location provided a cunning view, not only of the floor, but also of the stairs where the senior Seekers stood. He could see his own Seeker, Mr. Chapman, deep in conversation with the oldest active-duty Seeker, Mr. Ferris. The chairs for the junior Seekers were all filled now except for the seat Mr. Urman had left and a second one, with a step-stool below it to provide easy climbing. Looking around for its owner, Barrett saw that Mistress Birdesmond, Mr. Chapman’s wife, had stopped to talk with the substitute healer rather than join the other junior Seekers in their prominent perch. Mistress Birdesmond always had enough sense to keep herself out of the High Seeker’s immediate gaze. It was said that the mere fact of a female Seeker’s presence in the inner dungeon made Layle Smith come close to the breaking point. This was yet another rumor that Barrett had never wanted to ask the details about.

  He was close enough now to hear Mr. Urman: “. . . said the border between Vovim and Yclau has been closed for the past month. So the package couldn’t have come from Vovim, unless it was smuggled.”

  Mr. Sobel parted his lips to reply, but shut them again as he caught sight of Barrett. Barrett halted as though he had turned the corner and seen the High Seeker with a whip in his hand. “I’m sorry,” he murmured and began to back away.

  Mr. Urman, who had turned toward the new company with eagerness, looked crestfallen. Mr. Sobel hesitated, then glanced at his junior guard and beckoned Barrett forward.

  Barrett came toward them slowly, his spirits falling. If Mr. Sobel was willing to indulge Mr. Urman in his favorite pastime – gossip – then it could only be because the senior guard anticipated problems after this meeting and wanted Mr. Urman kept sweet so that he would back any action Mr. Sobel took to calm the trouble. Mr. Urman, who at times did not have great depth when it came to deciphering the motives of others, simply looked pleased as Barrett arrived.

  “What package?” Barrett asked, giving Mr. Urman the lead he needed.

  Mr. Urman looked briefly at Mr. Sobel to confirm that he had permission to speak on the matter, and then said, “It arrived three weeks ago. I was with Mr. Smith when it happened. We had just walked into his office to discuss my request to become Mr. Taylor’s senior night guard, when Mr. Smith saw the package lying on his desk. It was wrapped in brown paper, with ropes binding it – not string. It didn’t have anything written on it. Mr. Smith wouldn’t touch it.”

  “That’s how he managed to live so long in his cut-throat native land, no doubt,” Mr. Sobel commented. His gaze had returned to the crowd on the floor and stairway. He was scanning it carefully, as though the men and women there were guards at their posts.

  “Did you get the opportunity to see what was in the package?” Barrett asked.

  Mr. Urman refused to cut the story short. “He walked out of his office and asked the Record-keeper where the package had come from. Mr. Aaron said that it had been delivered by one of the guards at the main gates. So the High Seeker strode up the steps—”

  “With you tagging along,” Barrett added with a grin.

  Mr. Urman managed to keep his expression straight. “In case he needed any assistance in searching the guard. The guard who’d made the delivery said that a civilian man had delivered it to the gates. The guard didn’t know who he was or how he had gotten as far as the dungeon gates. The man was wearing a cloak that hid his clothes, and he spoke in the Yclau tongue, but from his accent and color, the guard thought he must be Vovimian.”

  Barrett whistled lightly. “And the High Seeker didn’t smote the guard on the spot for delivering a potential assassination package?”

  “Not when he heard the rest of the tale. He asked the guard if the man had given his name, and the guard said no, the man had stated that he was delivering the package, not for himself, but for an old friend of Mr. Smith’s. And the man said that the friend had asked Mr. Smith to give his greetings to Toler Forge.”

  Barrett looked enquiringly at Mr. Sobel. Mr. Sobel shook his head. “‘Toler’ is a Vovimian name. That’s all I know.”

  “Did the High Seeker recognize the name?” Barrett asked Mr. Urman.

  “I’d say he did. He went all still, the way he does when a prisoner has said something that provides the clue on how to break him. Then the High Seeker turned without a word and went down the stairs. Fast. I barely got there in time before he closed the office door.”

  “But of course you followed him in,” said Barrett dryly.

  Mr. Urman’s face was innocent as he replied, “We hadn’t finished discussing my request for a rise in rank. When he saw I was there, he snapped, ‘Fetch Mr. Taylor.’ So I did. Taylor – sorry, Mr. Taylor – wasn’t far away. When we got back to the office, the High Seeker was struggling to break the ropes around the package. He looked up and said to Mr. Taylor, ‘One of Millard’s men brought this. Help me open it.’”

  “And you stayed for that as well,” Barrett said, his mouth twitching.

  “I lent him my dagger,” Mr. Urman replied blandly.

  “And stayed by his side, in case he should have any troubles using the blade, him being unused to weapons?”

  Mr. Sobel passed a hand over his mouth. Mr. Urman grinned openly. “He sliced through those ropes as though he were wielding a knife through butter. Then he pulled the brown paper off, and we could see that the package contained a book.”

  “What was the title?” Barrett asked curiously.

  Mr. Urman shook his head. “The book was face down when he opened it. It wasn’t a printed book, in any case – it was a daybook, and when Mr. Smith opened the book to the last page, I could see that the page was ha
ndwritten.”

  “And of course,” said Barrett in a deadpan voice, “you read what was on the page, in case your knowledge of the book’s contents could assist the High Seeker.”

  Mr. Urman grinned again. “No such luck. It was written in Vovimian; I can’t translate that without a dictionary at hand. Anyway, the High Seeker didn’t read more than a sentence or two before he slammed the book shut. Then he just stared at the cover. He was breathing really heavy. So Mr. Taylor told me to leave, and I did.”

  Barrett thought that, if he had been in a room where the High Seeker was breathing heavily, he would have left quickly also. Mr. Urman added, “They stayed in there together for an hour.”

  “While you stayed outside, watching the door,” Barrett supplied.

  “I had documentwork to do in the entry hall.” Mr. Urman had returned to his look of innocence. “When they finally came out, Mr. Smith went straight into the Codifier’s office. That’s when he got permission to take vigil in the crematorium. For a whole month, as though he were mourning a brother or a favorite schoolmaster.”

  Barrett’s smile dissipated. His gaze moved and locked with Mr. Sobel’s. They were silent a minute, as the rustling in the ceiling increased.

  Finally Barrett asked, “Could it be a brother?”

  “No,” Mr. Sobel replied. “He has no surviving family. I know that much.”

  “Then do you think the rumors are true?”

  “They could be. I don’t know what his name is. I’ve never seen it printed in the newspapers.”

  “Am I privileged to know what you’re talking about, or is this a private conference?” Mr. Urman asked tartly.

  Barrett ignored him. “He couldn’t have been much older.”

  “A few years older. There was some sort of connection, I’m not quite sure what. Perhaps the older boy taught the younger boy what he knew.”

  “Well,” said Mr. Urman, his voice changing from bitterness to anger, “if you two are going to spend all evening gossiping, I’ll just leave you and get back to my duties.” He took a step away.

  Mr. Sobel grabbed him. A moment later, Barrett realized why as a hush fell over the entry hall like a smothering blanket. He turned in time to see the High Seeker emerge from his office at the front of the entry hall, and then climb the steps onto the platform. The High Seeker did not acknowledge the presence of the Queen’s representative in any way, but simply turned toward the dungeon dwellers now awaiting his word with suspended breath.

  He did not speak. Barrett tried to read what lay in his eyes, but the High Seeker was too far away. The silence lengthened. Then the rustling above the crowd, which had continued all this while, turned into low thunder. Barrett lifted his face and watched the bats stream down from the ceiling, as they did every evening at dusktime.

  The black stream followed its usual course up the stairs, flying round the senior Seekers, who appeared undisturbed to have become rocks in a black river. Barrett felt the floor vibrate slightly as the outer gates above, which were beyond his sight, were opened to allow the bats passage – a symbolic move rather than a practical one, since the bars of the outer gates were wide enough for the small bats to pass through, unlike the solid wood of the rarely-closed inner gates. Then the black stream disappeared, and a boom rang through the entry hall as the outer gates were closed again.

  The boom repeated itself. Barrett’s breath caught, and he saw several of the junior guards twist round to look back toward the gates in puzzlement. A few bats that had been slower than the rest raced up the stairway, disappearing out of view. They reappeared a moment later and circled the entry hall in evident confusion.

  Barrett switched his gaze quickly to the only entrance he could see, the door leading to the prisoners’ cells. Except on the rare occasions when a prisoner broke out from his cell, this door was always kept unlocked, but he was not surprised to see one of the Codifier’s guards barring the door. A noise further down the wall that Barrett stood against told him that the door leading to the outer dungeon was also being barred.

  A number of the junior guards were now whispering to one another, evidently trying to ascertain the meaning of what was happening. The High Seeker ignored them. Instead he turned his hooded head unerringly in the direction of his senior night guard. “Mr. Sobel?”

  “All are here who should be here, High Seeker,” replied the guard in ritualistic fashion. It was then that Barrett realized that Mr. Sobel had positioned himself at this location, not only to see that all were here who should be here, but also to see that none were here who should not be here.

  The High Seeker nodded and turned his attention back to the remainder of the dungeon dwellers. “For those of you who were not here on the last occasion when the inner gates of the inner dungeon were closed,” he said, “I shall explain that this is a locked meeting. Some of what I tell you today has not been publicly announced, and will not be for the foreseeable future. Until I give word otherwise, what I say to you today may not be spoken of to anyone outside the inner dungeon, including your wives, your love-mates, and the dwellers of the outer dungeon.” He paused, and then added, “Speaking without permission about the contents of a locked meeting is considered a treasonable offense.”

  A groan of proper appreciation for this announcement arose from the junior guards. Barrett thought the noise sounded forced. He glanced at the Seekers, both sitting and standing, and saw the knowledgeable, grim stiffness of their stances. They were the only people in this place who had seen men and women hanged; they alone fully comprehended the High Seeker’s threat.

  The High Seeker waited until his audience was settled again. In his black hood, black shirt, and black trousers, he was hard to see against the tall black slate-tablet behind him, containing the names of the current prisoners in the dungeon or those who had recently departed this place. As always, Barrett found himself sliding his gaze away from the tablet, so as to avoid sight of the names that had been crossed out.

  In a voice pitched to carry up to the gates, the High Seeker said, “Some of you will have heard rumors that the High Master of the Hidden Dungeon has been executed.”

  Barrett and Mr. Sobel exchanged glances. All round the entry hall, other inner dungeon dwellers were doing the same, some giving shrugs of indifference at this topic. Mr. Urman sighed heavily and opened his newspaper again. Mr. Sobel swiftly moved in front of him to shield the High Seeker’s gaze from the junior guard.

  The High Seeker appeared to take no notice of the restlessness of his crowd. He continued, “We received official confirmation yesterday afternoon that the rumors are true. The High Master was killed three months ago. He received a royal execution.”

  Several of the men present screwed up their faces at this news. Barrett began to turn to Mr. Sobel for enlightenment, and then decided that he really did not wish to know what a Vovimian royal execution consisted of.

  The High Seeker’s head had been turning from side to side, scanning the crowd. Suddenly he froze in place, like a wild-cat about to pounce. “Mr. Crofford,” he said, “do you have a question?”

  Barrett could see Mr. Crofford at the right edge of the group of junior guards. The young guard had been leaning over to whisper to a neighbor. Now he went as pale as though the High Seeker had suddenly produced a dagger in his hand. “Yes, sir,” he said, his voice wavering. “I was wondering why this information was important. Doesn’t the King of Vovim kill the head torturer of his dungeon every few years, in order to keep complete control over that dungeon? Besides, the Vovimians are our enemies.”

  Barrett looked quickly over at Mr. Sobel, but the High Seeker’s guard did not look his way this time. His gaze was fixed upon Layle Smith, waiting for him to reply.

  The High Seeker’s voice was quieter than before when he responded. “It matters, Mr. Crofford, because, for the past year, the Hidden Dungeon has been unofficially operated under a code of conduct that bears a certain family resemblance to the Code of Seeking.”

  M
r. Urman dropped his newspaper. The sound of it falling was lost in the rising voices that echoed in the entry hall, which caused the remaining handful of bats to flutter nervously from perch to perch. There was not a Seeker or guard present who did not know the bloody history of the Hidden Dungeon and of Yclau’s efforts to convince Vovim’s King to reform his dungeon.

  “‘Unofficially,’ did you say, Mr. Smith?” called out a junior guard, too eager to await recognition.

  “Unofficially,” confirmed the High Seeker, his voice causing the audience to quiet. “The late High Master acted on his own initiative, as Vovimian law permits. Unlike myself, the head torturer of Vovim’s dungeon is not required to consult with anyone before making changes to his dungeon, not even the King. Although,” he added dryly, “it is usually considered politic to ask the King’s permission.” With his head still turned toward the guard who had asked the question, he said, “Mr. Urman, your interest in this meeting is renewed by this news, I believe.”

  Mr. Urman uttered a soft curse, and then stepped out from behind Mr. Sobel. “Yes, Mr. Smith. I’m wondering whether the reason the High Master was killed was because he had instituted a code of conduct similar to the Code of Seeking that the King has opposed for so long.”

  “I think we can assume that played a role in the King’s decision to execute the High Master.”

  “But it was not the whole reason?” Mr. Urman pressed.

  “No, Mr. Urman. The High Master was originally arrested because one of the King’s agents discovered that the High Master had been in correspondence with me for the past four years.”

  The whispers that had continued in the entry hall died suddenly, as though the audience were a prisoner whose neck had cracked on the gallows. In the utter silence that followed, Layle Smith said, “High Master Millard and I first became acquainted with one another when we were both apprentices under the same master torturer in the Hidden Dungeon. Four years ago, during a trip to Vovim that was undertaken at the Queen’s request, I briefly renewed my acquaintance with the High Master. Shortly thereafter, he and I entered into private correspondence concerning the work conditions in our respective dungeons.”

  For a breath’s pause, the audience did not react. Then, to a man, everyone’s head turned in the direction of the Queen’s guards.

  Barrett had already turned his gaze that way, from the moment he heard the words “private correspondence.” The guards were in sentry position, with their right hands resting on the hilts of their ceremonial swords, while their left hands, in a more practical manner, rested upon their pistols. Their gazes were directed toward the unarmed High Seeker. The expression of the magistrate between them was unreadable.

  Barrett took a moment to glance at Mr. Sobel. Concern was written across the other guard’s face, but no surprise. Barrett supposed his own face looked the same.

  The High Seeker did not turn round to look at the Queen’s guards and representative. Instead, he said to his audience, “Nearly all of you here know of the long tradition that exists in dungeons of the world, by which torturers exchange information with one another, in the same fashion that healers exchange information with their foreign colleagues, regardless as to whether their respective countries are at peace or at war. These exchanges of information are always dangerous and are often considered treasonous by the leaders of the countries in which the torturers live.” The High Seeker paused again, and Barrett wondered whether everyone else in the entry hall was joining him in holding breath suspended. Finally the High Seeker said, “I spoke with the Queen this morning concerning my correspondence with High Master Millard, and she accepts my statement that I engaged in this correspondence in the hopes of bringing benefit to Yclau.” He turned suddenly and gave an old-fashioned bow to the magistrate. The magistrate bowed back.

  A collective sigh rose from the floor and stairs of the entry hall, like morning mist. The bats, apparently treating this as a signal of peace, settled down together on the back of Elsdon Taylor’s abandoned chair, hanging down from the top rung.

  The High Seeker turned back to face the dungeon dwellers, and without missing a beat, he said, “You have a question, Mr. Boyd?”

  Barrett felt his heart thump hard, as it always did when the High Seeker noticed him. “I was wondering whether the High Master was seeking to be disloyal to his King, sir.”

  “He was not.” Layle Smith’s voice was crisp. “High Master Millard’s loyalty to his King was exemplary, as is well known in Vovim. Indeed, the full extent of his loyalty, and the sacrifices he made on the King’s behalf, are only just now beginning to be revealed. No one in Vovim doubts the High Master’s loyalty or believes that he was engaging in treasonous behavior when he sought to reform his dungeon, as his powers lawfully permitted. It appears” – the High Seeker’s voice went suddenly dry as he turned his gaze toward the rest of his audience – “that the King of Vovim slew the High Master out of pique, because the High Master had been in correspondence with Vovim’s traditional enemy.”

  “Not Yclau – the High Seeker,” murmured Mr. Urman in Barrett’s ear. “He’s the one that the King hates most.”

  Barrett nodded. It was well known that the Vovimian King’s temper raged high whenever he heard the name of the torturer who had broken his oath of loyalty to Vovim by fleeing to Yclau in order to work in the Eternal Dungeon. Layle Smith had only made matters worse, in the King’s eyes, by using international pressure, through the United Order of Prisons, to try to reform Vovim’s dungeon and prisons.

  “Mr. Sobel.” The words snapped like a whiplash over the crowd, silencing everyone.

  “Sir,” the guard acknowledged the High Seeker’s notice of him. “I’m wondering whether all of this has anything to do with the present civil unrest in Vovim, and the King’s threats of war against Yclau.”

  Barrett cast an admiring look at Mr. Sobel. The senior-most guard was known chiefly for his strength and quickness in dealing with prisoners. Only occasionally would the guard provide brief hints that his mind could be as quick as his body.

  “It does, Mr. Sobel.” The note of approval in the High Seeker’s voice was subtle but clear to all who knew him. “Because the King killed the High Master for corresponding with Yclau, he blames Yclau for the High Master’s death.” He gave his audience a moment to digest this contorted logic, and then added, “As for the internal unrest within Vovim, it is due to the High Master’s death. The King’s decision to execute his head torturer upon a whim has made the king’s lords nervous.”

  “But he always executes his High Masters!” cried Mr. Crofford, eager that his point should not be forgotten.

  “He does, Mr. Crofford, and he has also executed quite a few men of power since taking the throne. Until now, though, the remaining lords were able to delude themselves into thinking that the King only executed traitors, and that they themselves, being loyal, were immune to arbitrary arrests. The High Master’s death has stripped that delusion from them. They now know that, if the King’s favorite can be given a prolonged death for little reason, they too are in danger. And that is where the Eternal Dungeon enters into this matter, gentlemen. And ladies,” he added belatedly.

  Mr. Urman leaned back against the wall, his arms folded, a sardonic look on his face, as though he had heard all of this many times before. Barrett noticed, though, that Mr. Urman was nudging the newspaper out of the way with his foot.

  Even the remaining bats seemed to have given their full attention to the proceedings. They hung from the chair-back rungs, occasionally wiping their faces with their wings, but showing no sign of wishing to search the entry hall for any bugs that might have wandered in from the lighted world. A senior Seeker who was standing on a step immediately behind the chairs – Mr. Ferris – casually put a hand out to steady himself upon the back of Mr. Taylor’s chair. One of the bats nudged its way over till it was hanging from Mr. Ferris’s hand, its claws digging into the Seeker’s skin. Mr. Ferris glanced down, appeared to assess the small tortu
rer for a moment, and then looked up again without moving. Amused, Barrett turned his attention back to the High Seeker.

  Mr. Smith was saying, “Few Vovimians care whether prisoners are treated in a just manner, but their King’s decision to execute his head torturer and abolish the code of conduct established by High Master Millard has become a political issue. The lords who wish to gain power over the King, in hopes of stopping the arbitrary killings, are now demanding that the King reinstitute the old High Master’s code. The King, and other lords who remain loyal to him, oppose this move. Every man in that conflict is aware that the High Master loosely patterned his code after the Code of Seeking. As a result, the Eternal Dungeon will be the focus of much attention from Vovim and similar-minded nations in the weeks to come. . . . That would be reason enough to call this meeting. However, the Codifier received a communication last night by government courier that is as important as the news I have just told you, if not more so. He has given me permission to read the letter to you.”

  From where he stood, Barrett could only see that the letter Mr. Smith pulled from his pocket was on the blue stationery used by the land to the northeast of Yclau, which had been a disputed territory for several centuries between Yclau and Vovim until Yclau’s Queen dealt with the rivalry by granting the land its independence five years before. Barrett cast a final glance at Mr. Ferris, whose eyes remained fixed on the High Seeker. Mr. Ferris was now using his free hand to lightly rub the back of the sleepy little bat.

  The High Seeker’s voice rang through the entry hall.

  The fourteenth day of the sixth month of 360 in the Tri-National Era.

  To Mr. J. Daniels, Codifier of the Eternal Dungeon (founded 202, in succession to a prior royal dungeon), The Queendom of Yclau.

  My dear Sir,

  I am writing on behalf of the executive committee of the United Order of Prisons, Dungeons, and Places of Execution to inform you of a new policy that has been passed by the committee today, in accordance with a recommendation made to us last summer by the code committee of our Order.

  This policy requires that all member nations of the United Order of Prisons restrict uses of physical punishment, corporal discipline, torture, or any similar acts, to self-defense or the punishment of deeds that bring grave danger to the prison workers, prisoners, or outsiders. Specific acts that may be addressed through the use of physical pain are physical assaults by prisoners on prison workers or fellow prisoners, attempts to escape, and conspiracies by prisoners to lead riots. Other acts bringing grave danger may be addressed by physical pain, but only upon review and approval by this Order.

  It has been brought to our attention that the Eternal Dungeon’s Code of Seeking (fifth revision, issued in 344, author L. Smith et al.) is not in compliance with our new policy. Your dungeon’s code permits the use of physical pain (referred to in your code as “torture”) in all instances where the prisoners violate the portions of the code which are applicable to them. This amounts to 48 potential offences; these offences can be as trivial as lying or failing to address formally the prison worker who is searching him (the “Seeker”). Moreover, your code permits Seekers to make use of physical pain while searching prisoners for information concerning their alleged crimes, an action that our new policy strongly condemns.

  I have enclosed on a separate page the exact wording of our new policy. I ask you to take special note of the section identifying the means by which physical pain may be administered. Racks are not mentioned in that section.

  As you know, one of the requirements of membership in the United Order of Prisons is that the member nations be willing to accept the judgment of the Order on matters concerning ethical conditions in prisons, dungeons, and places of executions. The United Order of Prisons has exercised its power to recommend changes in ethical policy only six times in its 150-year career. On each occasion, the Eternal Dungeon has made the necessary adjustments to its conditions, although on two occasions (in 280 and 311) the Eternal Dungeon requested and received permission to delay the institution of such changes until the next revision of its code.

  We trust that we will have the Eternal Dungeon’s full cooperation on this matter, as we have in all past cases. I should add that, as in the past, member nations that refuse to comply with the Order’s ethical policies may face expulsion from the Order and additional penalties, such as international embargoes.

  With best wishes,

  Arthur Jones-Brown

  Keeper, Mercy Life Prison (founded 355), The Magisterial Republic of Mip

  On behalf of the executive committee of the United Order of Prisons

  Postscriptum. Mr. Edwards of the communications committee has asked me to convey the information that he has received Mr. Smith’s letter, dated last month, requesting that his committee make enquiries to Vovim concerning the rumors of High Master Millard’s demise. Mr. Edwards will be in touch with the High Seeker shortly.

  Barrett was barely able to hear the final words of the letter; by the time the second paragraph had been read, the entry hall was in an uproar. The bats, startled, flew up and circled uneasily around the men and women reacting with raised voices to this news of a dramatic change in the dungeon’s fortunes.

  Barrett kept his eye on the High Seeker. He was no longer trying to read the shadowed eyes; he was watching Mr. Smith’s chest as it rose once, taking in a deep breath of air, then rose a second time, and then rose a third. Before Barrett could worry about these aborted attempts at speech, the High Seeker’s voice cut through the crowd, and Barrett understood.

  “Mistress Birdesmond,” the High Seeker said, “do have something you wish to say?”

  The audience softened at once to a murmur, several of the audience members turning to check what posture of the junior Seeker had alerted the High Seeker to her burning need to speak.

  Whatever it was, Barrett could read only calmness in her pose as she responded. “I apologize for disrupting your news, High Seeker,” she said, as though she, like the others, had been roaring at the top of her lungs. “I am curious about the letter’s reference to the Order’s code committee. I was under the impression that you are chairman of that committee.”

  “I am.” The High Seeker, quite noticeably, did not look in the junior Seeker’s direction as he replied. “This new policy arose from a proposal I made to the committee last summer that the Order require its members to apply physical pain only under the circumstances that our own queendom permits, namely when the written code of the dungeon or prison has been violated. Until now, as I’m sure you know, a number of the Order’s members have held to the policy that physical pain can be applied under any circumstances considered advisable by the individual prison worker who applies the pain. I, and several other members of the committee, had hoped to require that pain be applied under more narrow circumstances. Some of the younger members of the committee, however, felt that my proposal did not go far enough. I and the other committee members who shared my views were overruled.”

  There was silence now, as the bats continued to circle cautiously overhead. The junior Seeker did not follow up on her remark; the High Seeker allowed himself to look from side to side of the assembly before him.

  “All of you know,” he said in a voice quieter than before, “that Yclau was one of the founding members of the United Order of Prisons, whose mission is to encourage ethical practices in lawful places of captivity around the world. For the first one hundred and thirty years after the Order was founded, it had few member nations and exerted little influence. Then, in 344, the Order voted to require its members to create written codes of conduct for the workers in their dungeons.”

  “That’s the year the fifth revision of the Code of Seeking was published,” Mr. Urman whispered to Barrett. “Not a coincidence.”

  The High Seeker continued, “All of the codes bear a certain similarity to one another, and as a result, the joint impact of them has been great. The Order has swelled to four times the size it was in 344
, all of the new member nations being required to create codes of conduct for their dungeons as they join. Indeed, some nations – not yet ours, I regret to say – have also created codes of conduct for their lesser prisons. It is perhaps inevitable that, as newer members joined who had already received the benefits of the older members’ work, the newer nations would feel the desire to make their own contributions to the creation of such codes.”

  Barrett wondered whether the High Seeker really believed this: that the conflict implicit in the Order’s letter was nothing more than a case of new, adolescent nations wishing to challenge the greater wisdom of their elders. Barrett’s gaze fell to the newspaper lying on the ground near him. It was open to the article about the Commoners’ Guild.

  The world was changing, he thought. It was no longer what it had been in 344, when Layle Smith’s revision of the Code of Seeking, with shocking boldness, abolished centuries of received wisdom on how to treat prisoners. Now a new generation had arrived that wished to take Layle Smith’s principles and apply them a step further. And the High Seeker, it seemed, could not see this.

  Barrett had already sensed that, even before the High Seeker said, “I have discussed this matter with the Codifier and the Queen on several occasions since last summer, and I have also held conversations with this dungeon’s senior Seekers. The Queen, the Codifier, and I are agreed that the Code of Seeking, in its present form, provides the necessary balance between controlling the prisoners with too much harshness and granting them greater mercy than their cases merit. We hold firm to this balance, in opposition to nations that would treat their prisoners with undue harshness or undue lightness.”

  Barrett took note of the fact that the senior Seekers’ thoughts on this matter had not been mentioned. He looked quickly over to the steps. A few of the Seekers there, such as Mr. Ferris, were exchanging glances with one another, but the majority of senior Seekers, he saw, were nodding in agreement.

  The response of the junior Seekers and senior guards was more neutral, while the junior guards seemed downright restless in their response to the news. The High Seeker turned his head toward them suddenly, and they all froze, as if sighting a predator. Barrett could feel, though, the tension in Mr. Urman as the junior guard muttered something under his breath.

  The High Seeker did not speak for a minute more. He looked, Barrett thought, like a wildcat waiting patiently for his craven prey to emerge from its hole. Finally Mr. Smith said, in a voice so quiet that it forced silence to all lingering whispers, “This is a moment of crisis in the Eternal Dungeon’s history. Neither I nor the Codifier nor the Queen treat lightly the threats made against us by the United Order of Prisons and the Kingdom of Vovim. All eyes of the world will be turned to this dungeon in the coming weeks, to see how we react to the recent events. We must conduct ourselves accordingly.”

  Barrett flicked a glance at Elsdon Taylor, still standing close to the platform. His back was to Barrett, and there was nothing in his posture to indicate his reaction to the speech. He looked the same as he always did at public pronouncements such as this: calm and ready to step forward in order to offer the High Seeker his support as soon as the speech was through.

  “Beginning at the end of this week,” said Mr. Smith, “there will be a daily training session for junior guards, held during the dusk shift. Those of you who are junior guards have been learning your duties in the traditional manner, through informal instruction, but the Codifier and I believe that, during these days of crisis, it is vital that you understand the foundations of the Code of Seeking. Attendance at this training is required for all junior guards; other members of the inner dungeon are encouraged to attend. Even those of you who have been senior guards for many years are likely to benefit from what is said there.”

  Next to Barrett, Mr. Urman sighed heavily. Before he or any other junior guard had an opportunity to mutter remarks about lost leisure time, though, the High Seeker added, “One matter all of you need to know, guards and Seekers alike: This dungeon’s policy toward punishment of inner dungeon members will undergo a slight change.”

  The audience seemed to shift in place, like bats rustling their wings. Barrett looked over his shoulder at the senior Seekers and saw surprise in the eyes of many of them. Mr. Ferris’s eyes had narrowed.

  The High Seeker’s voice continued in a level manner, as though he had not noticed the turn in mood. “As all of you know, members of the inner dungeon are immune from Yclau law. If we break a civil law within this dungeon or in the portion of the palace devoted to justice, we cannot be arrested by Yclau’s soldiers – which is to say that Seekers cannot be arrested for violation of civil law at all, since we are not ordinarily permitted to pass beyond those bounds. Seekers, and to a large extent guards, are allowed to break civil law where that law comes into conflict with the Code.”

  “If they weren’t,” Mr. Urman murmured, “you wouldn’t be sleeping with Mr. Taylor, would you?”

  Mr. Sobel shushed Mr. Urman while Barrett passed his hand over his mouth to hide his smile. It was true enough that Yclau’s archaic laws prevented men from sleeping with anyone over the age of twenty-one, unless their bed-partner was their wife. The Seekers – imprisoned eternally in a dungeon with few underage youths and with no recourse to marriage – had gone their own way in such matters, as in many others. There had been tension in the early years of the Eternal Dungeon, Barrett had heard, when the Code of Seeking began to deviate from civil law, but the Queen at that time had dealt with the matter by enshrining in Yclau law the Seekers’ right to create their own laws, provided that those laws were not exercised outside the dungeon.

  And so, in the Eternal Dungeon, full-grown men slept with full-grown men, a fact that had shocked Barrett when he first arrived only because such affairs were openly spoken of here. In the lighted world, the old laws against men sleeping with men were routinely broken, but in a covert manner. “I spent the night in bed with my boy,” one of Barrett’s friends in the army had once said with a wink, and everyone around him had understood that his “boy” was the middle-aged civilian man he spent time with. Here in the Eternal Dungeon, no such coded messages were needed, for the Queen’s laws did not extend this far.

  Mr. Smith said, “The Eternal Dungeon originally petitioned for this right, not in order to protect the Seekers against the consequences of any heinous deeds they might commit, but in order to protect the Code. The circumstances in which we live and work are so different from that of the lighted world, that at times we must permit acts which are forbidden to ordinary men, and at other times we must forbid acts which are permitted to ordinary men.”

  Barrett had heard this statement many times – it was a central passage in the fifth revision of the Code – but again he saw a rustling of uneasiness ripple through the onlookers, as though they were all taking in the meaning of the High Seeker’s words for the first time.

  “In the lighted world,” the High Seeker continued relentlessly, “it is a magistrate who determines the sentence of an offending prisoner. He does so after receiving evidence from various parties; the trial is held in public. If the prisoner appeals sentence to the Queen, then the case may be tried by a higher magistrate, and so on up to the highest courts, and even to the Queen herself. The lowliest prisoner has the right to appeal to the Queen’s mercy, and if she fails to give it, the lowliest prisoner has the right to appeal to the people whom the Queen rules, if he believes that he has been wronged. Every prisoner in the land of Yclau retains this privilege, including the prisoners of this dungeon, who have been accused of the worst of crimes: kin-murder, treason, the rape of virgins. Every man and woman in Yclau, our great queendom, possesses this right.” The High Seeker paused, his gaze sweeping over the crowd that silently watched him, anticipating his final words. “You do not.”

  Even Mr. Urman remained voiceless in the pause that followed. Finally the High Seeker said, with a tone so light that he might have been discussing flower-weaving for the Lords’ Spring
Festival, “This is one of the many sacrifices that we as Seekers and guards make for the sake of our prisoners: We agree that the only law we follow within this dungeon will be the Code. In the original Code of Seeking, and in every revision since then, it has been determined that any man who takes employment within the inner dungeon – or any woman – thereby gives up his right of appeal. Final decisions in all disciplinary matters are made by one man: myself. As always, I am supervised by the Codifier, who in turn is supervised by the Queen’s magistrates. But if you are arrested on a serious charge, you will not be turned over to a magistrate for a public trial whose judgment you may appeal. I will decide your sentence, and unless the Codifier overturns my judgment, the sentence I place upon any guilty prisoner will be carried out immediately.”

  Barrett looked over at Mr. Sobel. The older guard’s memory of the Eternal Dungeon stretched back further than Barrett’s; Mr. Sobel had been a guard under Layle Smith’s predecessor. Barrett had heard whispered tales of what those times had been like. Seekers and guards would disappear without warning, and when they reappeared, it would be in the form of ashes, to be buried in the communal pit at the dark end of the dungeon. No public notice was ever issued at the time of their arrests; no explanation was ever given for their deaths. In those days, it was said, torturers and guards had trod tenderly in the presence of the High Torturer.

  All that had changed when Layle Smith came to power and turned the torturers into Seekers. Though in theory he still held the power of life and death over every member of the inner dungeon, Barrett knew of only two cases where he had exercised it: in both cases, the men executed had been guards who had blatantly abused their power over prisoners on more than one occasion. It lay within the High Seeker’s power to torture his prisoners, but he had not done so in those cases. Instead, he had consulted with the senior Seekers before making the arrests, had asked the Codifier to call in witnesses on the prisoners’ behalf, and had permitted the prisoners to see their loved ones before their executions. The days of execution had been known beforehand to everyone, and by the time the prisoners’ ashes had arrived at the communal pit, the general sentiment had been that the prisoners were lucky to have been tried under so fair a magistrate.

  Mr. Sobel was frowning, which might have meant anything: concern at what the High Seeker was saying, concentration on his words, or simply annoyance that the audience, once again, was reacting with uneasiness at Mr. Smith’s pronouncements. Barrett turned his attention back to the speaker in time to hear Mr. Smith say, “Our critics – both those who consider the Code too lax and those who consider it too harsh – argue that, when Seekers and guards bring about the repentance and renewal in prisoners that is always our primary aim, we do so despite the Code, not because of it.”

  This time the murmur in the crowd was clearly of anger, and the anger was not aimed toward the High Seeker. Barrett saw Mr. Taylor form his hands into fists and then quickly release them again. Mr. Smith waited a moment before acknowledging his listeners’ anger with a nod. “Few of our critics have had the opportunity to witness for themselves the breaking and rebirth of our prisoners, under the rules of the Code; thus, their perspective is limited. Nonetheless . . .” His voice lingered on the word as he turned his head to scan the crowd. “. . . these criticisms have a certain force. On too many occasions over the years, the rules of the Code have been bent or broken with impunity. I am to blame for that. I did not hold enough faith in the Code to trust its limits, and now the Eternal Dungeon is paying the price for my faithlessness.”

  Watching the stunned reaction of the junior guards to this candid confession of fault, Barrett wondered whether any of those guards realized how carefully they were being manipulated by the High Seeker. Barrett himself had only witnessed Mr. Smith at work with a prisoner on one occasion, but he had seen, that previous year, how the High Seeker could use apparent displays of weakness as a means to trap a prisoner into following his will.

  It appeared that the High Seeker would have his way again. One junior guard, more bold than the rest, cried out, “You’re not to blame, sir!” Most of the other junior guards – and a good many junior Seekers also – murmured their agreement, seemingly moved by the sight of so powerfully ranked a man confessing his misdeeds to lesser-ranked men. Mr. Urman – who had worked long enough under the High Seeker to know his methods – simply rolled his eyes.

  “Thank you, gentlemen.” The High Seeker began to turn toward the women, perhaps to include them in his thanks, but quickly turned back. Mistress Birdesmond had the advantage of keeping her expression hooded from the onlookers, but the temporary healer appeared not at all moved by the High Seeker’s confession. Perhaps her mind had flitted ahead to what must follow from such words.

  Mr. Smith made no delay in stating his conclusion. “I will not repeat my mistakes of the past. The Code itself provides abundant flexibility. It offers a range of punishments for most crimes, and it permits the granting of mercy in cases where a prisoner committed his misdeed out of ignorance or pressure or unwonted fear. As in the past, I will follow the Code’s lead in bestowing mercy where it is merited. But from this point henceforth” – the High Seeker’s voice suddenly deepened – “I will not ameliorate the consequences for anyone who deliberately breaks the Code. I will bring down the full penalties upon any Seeker, guard, prisoner, or other member of the inner dungeon who intentionally breaks the Code, in however small a matter. That is all I have to say today.”

  With typical swiftness, the High Seeker was off the platform before the magistrate, staring at the empty space where Layle Smith had stood, had time to take in that the proclamation was finished. The residents of the inner dungeon, more used to Layle Smith’s abrupt manner of ending meetings, had already begun to move. Guards were unbarring the doors leading out of the entry hall, the Codifier was disappearing into his office, junior Seekers were beginning to climb down from their seats, and the gates above were sliding back with a clank. The little bat, sensing his opportunity, rose from his perch upon Mr. Ferris’s hand and flew fleetly up the stairs.

  The guards who were free of immediate duties had already begun to gather in clusters to discuss excitedly – though in suitably low voices – the contents of the speech. The Seekers, trained to be more discreet, were catching each other’s eyes, as though to say, “We must talk of this, once we’re behind closed doors.” The expressions in their eyes told clearly enough, though, what they thought of what they had heard.

  Looking around, Barrett decided that little had changed since the beginning of the speech. Most of the Seekers and senior guards supported what Mr. Smith had said; despite the High Seeker’s best efforts, most of the junior guards were angry. Mr. Urman, without asking leave of Mr. Sobel, hurried forward to join his voice with the other junior guards who were beginning to raise their voices in protest at what they had heard.

  As Mr. Urman went, he passed by Mr. Crofford. The young guard was staring down at the dagger sheathed at his left hip. Quickly, as though his life depended upon it, he moved the sheathed dagger to his right hip.

  Barrett felt a heaviness come upon him then. He turned, opening his mouth to say he-knew-not-what to Mr. Sobel, but the words shrivelled on his tongue as he saw Mr. Sobel’s expression. He followed the other guard’s gaze.

  The High Seeker, as was always the case, had not adopted the safe course by retreating into his office; he was standing in front of the platform, answering questions from all comers. His head turned as he spoke, however, as though he were missing someone in the crowd. He soon found what he was seeking: Elsdon Taylor, who had not yet come forward to join him.

  For a moment, the gazes of the two Seekers remained locked. Then, in a deliberate manner, Mr. Taylor turned his back on the High Seeker and began to listen to a handful of junior Seekers who were denouncing the High Seeker’s decisions.

  Barrett’s eyes met Mr. Sobel’s. The other man, grave-faced, said nothing. After a moment, both guards looked away from each other.<
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