Laylan’s mind raced. If he gets loose, the wolflings will kill us. I could shout for the guards. On the other hand, if Chance and I stay here, Daren will kill us.
Laylan felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. He looked back across the cell and saw Fenrah watching him. I should shout. I should do it now.
Clink. Thump. Laylan looked back to see Danzel standing cautiously on the floor. Laylan saw the weapon clearly now. It was Gabalon’s dagger. For a moment, he did not understand. Then he remembered: Danzel stumbled against Daren in the courtyard. Daren had tucked the dagger into his belt, and Danzel must have tripped on purpose. Clever little thief. Daren was raving about spearing Hualien, and all the while Danzel was getting the dagger.
At the sound of Danzel hitting the ground, there was a stirring outside the cell. Sham hissed loudly. Danzel tucked the dagger into the back of his belt and stepped against the wall, hands over his head, grasping the metal ring. A face appeared in the barred window, lingered a moment, then disappeared. They’ve got a torch outside, thought Laylan, they’re looking into a darkened cell. They can’t see details.
Danzel was stepping away from the wall again, cautiously watching the window. Laylan’s eyes flicked from Sham to Chance to Fenrah. Fenrah is injured, and Sham isn’t. If Danzel lets him loose, the first thing he’ll do is kill Chance, then probably me. On the other hand, Fenrah is his pack leader.
Danzel went to Fenrah. She bit down on her sleeve as he cut her free, then lowered her broken arm slowly. Sham was making impatient motions with his head, but Fenrah didn’t even look at him. Instead, she crossed the cell to Laylan, Danzel on her heels, still holding the dagger.
Standing in front of him, leaning so close that her lips brushed his ear, she whispered, “Gambling more than usual, aren’t you, Laylan?”
He looked sideways at her and felt the cold steel kiss his throat.
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t open you like a deer in a snare.”
He thought for a moment. “I’ll give you a hundred and three.”
“A hundred and one. We sprung those two traps along the Wyke south of Ense.” Fenrah reached inside his tunic and found the chain with the trap key. “I hope you weren’t planning on bargaining with this, because,” she jerked hard and broke the clasp, “I already have it.”
Laylan was beginning to think he’d overplayed his hand. “I could shout.”
He barely had the words out before her elbow crushed the wind from his throat. He could feel Danzel playing the point of the dagger down his chest, settling it between two ribs. “It’s a bit late for that,” hissed Fenrah.
Laylan’s back arched in a spasm. He wanted to kick her, but mastered himself.
Fenrah continued in his ear. “I’m curious, Laylan. What do you think you can offer that I can’t already take?” She removed her elbow from his throat and let him gasp painfully.
“Fauns,” Laylan managed, “listen to me.”
She eyed him suspiciously.
“Syrill,” continued Laylan, trusting her to lip-read as much as to hear him, “is a friend. Meuril listens to his general—”
“What are you offering?”
“I’ll see what I can do about the bounty laws.”
Fenrah’s eyebrows rose.
“I can’t promise I’ll succeed, but it’s just possible I could arrange a bargain that would keep your shelts off the gallows. That is what you want, isn’t it?”
“Assuming you could even arrange such a thing if you wanted to, why should I trust that you’ll do something that would endanger your own livelihood?”
Laylan could not move much, but he pulled his head back as far as possible to look her squarely in the face. “I keep my promises, including the one I made to protect my employer. This bargain includes Chance. Kill him, and the deal is off.”
Fenrah stepped back. She studied his face for a moment, then motioned for Danzel to follow her back across the cell to Sham. Laylan noticed that Sevn was beginning to twitch. He’ll start moaning when he comes around, and that may bring the guards again.
Danzel had cut Sham down. Fenrah seemed to be having an argument with him. Laylan could guess what it was about. At one point, Sham pointed to his paws. They were both scarred—one from Laylan’s trap, the other from Chance’s sword. Danzel was evidently worried about the guards. He kept glancing sideways at the barred window. Finally, he went to Sevn, who was beginning to lash his tail and make little whining noises. Danzel reached into Sevn’s tunic and came up with a tiny satchel.
Laylan perked up his ears. “That wouldn’t happen to be thunder powder, would it?”
Danzel glanced at him.
Fenrah and Sham stopped their argument to listen.
“Because if it is,” continued Laylan, “I have flint to strike a spark.”
Chapter 8. In the Dark
The combined knowledge of two parties is greater than the sum of their parts.
—Archemais, Treason and Truth
Sevn woke to a muffled Boom! His first thought was, Bloody thunder, I thought I had that stuff stabilized. When he realized the sound hadn’t come from his own powder blowing him to bits, he opened his eyes.
He needn’t have bothered. Sevn was lying on his side in complete darkness. A thumping pain had started in his temples. He opened his mouth, and a garbled slur came out.
“Sevn’s awake!” Danzel’s voice.
“Don’t be too sure,” came another voice from the darkness. “He may be dreaming.”
Sevn stiffened. “Laylan,” he said thickly. “You bastard, have you blinded me, too?”
A mirthless chuckle. Fenrah’s voice, “Then again, perhaps he’s perfectly lucid.”
“I didn’t give him much,” said Laylan. “Headache?”
“Yeah,” growled Sevn. He sat up. “Where am I?”
“The dungeons,” said Fenrah. “Imprisoned by the swamp faun Daren Anroth. He turned up while we were trying to deal with our first two guests.”
“How do you know he didn’t come with them?” asked Sevn.
“Because they tortured Chance,” said Danzel. “Wanted him to tell them about a secret tunnel into Danda-lay.” Danzel was sitting close against Sevn in the darkness. The others seemed to be moving about. From the sound of their voices off the stone and the stillness of the air, he guessed they were all in a small room. He heard the sound of someone digging.
“We just now got ourselves loose,” explained Fenrah. “We used your powder and a flint from Laylan’s boots to blow out the door and take care of the guards. Now we—Sham and Laylan, that is—are trying to dig out.”
“What about you?” asked Sevn. He didn’t like the sound of her voice—strained, as though from pain.
“Daren broke her arm,” came Sham for the first time. He sounded winded, but Sevn knew him well enough to recognize anger as well. Cooperating with Laylan was not his idea.
“Is Chance still alive?”
Laylan answered, “Yes.”
It took them another quarter watch to clear the door. The explosion hadn’t been a powerful one, but the stone was old and crumbly. By the time they finished, Sevn was helping them. “The headache will go away quickly if you move about,” explained Laylan.
“You would know,” muttered Sevn.
“Yes, I would. I tested it on myself.”
As they worked, Fenrah explained what had happened while Sevn was unconscious.
He interrupted her near the end. “You told Daren about that storage room?”
“It’s only things,” answered Fenrah, “well worth Danzel’s life.”
“That’s not the point. I’ve snared the place so that a flea couldn’t reach the bottom alive.”
“I know.”
“But if you hadn’t gotten out, Daren—”
Fenrah’s voice sounded impatient. “Sevn, Daren would kill us eventually regardless of what we did. Still, I don’t think he’s such a fool as to try for that storeroom in the dark. He will wait fo
r daylight, and that gives us a little time.”
“What are they doing in our city?” asked Sevn. “We’re a day’s hard ride from Danda-lay. What do they have to gain from basing themselves here?”
No one had an answer.
“Daren had a map of Selbis,” said Fenrah after a moment. “He said he took it from a book in Danda-lay.”
Laylan answered her. “Yes, but I don’t think he stole it himself. Someone must have done it for him. The book wasn’t on display until a few days ago at Lupricasia. The cliff fauns found it recently in their library. There was a picture of Gabalon with that dagger. Did you know it was his, Fenrah?”
“No.”
There was a moment’s strained silence. Sevn had known Fenrah and Sham since they were all children, and he could feel their mutual hostility like an odor in the air. They’ve had an argument about Laylan and Chance, and now neither of them wants to admit Laylan into the discussion.
If Laylan noticed the tension, his voice didn’t show it. Next moment, he spoke again to say that he’d opened a space into the passage and that the tunnel seemed to be blocked in the direction Daren had brought them in. Soon they were all walking down the passage in the dark, trying not to trip over each other. Sevn wondered if Chance was unconscious. In that case, Laylan must be carrying him, because none of the wolflings would have done it.
He was startled, then, to hear another voice, so guttural that it took him a moment to realize it was Chance. “Did you notice anything interesting about those whips, Laylan?”
“Interesting?”
“They weren’t faun whips. Didn’t you notice? The handles were as long as his forearm.”
“You probably got a better look at them than I did.”
“They were centaur battle whips.”
For a moment, Sevn didn’t get it, but then his brain caught up with his ears. “Are you saying the fauns are stockpiling weapons here for centaurs?”
Chance didn’t answer him.
“I hope you’re wrong,” said Laylan.
“I’m not,” whispered Chance.
They padded along for several seconds before Chance made another disjointed remark. “Daren was lying about Shyshax. If he had a body, he would have produced it. He’s like that.”
A long silence. Laylan spoke again, his voice barely audible. “After Shyshax brought you to me, did you see what happened to him?”
“I found you on my own.”
“But I sent Shyshax to get you—”
“The last time that I saw him was when all three of us split up. My finding you was coincidental. I never saw Shyshax.”
* * * *
Corellian sat under a thicket of branches, listening to a light rain pattering on the leaves. He shut his eyes and leaned back against the tree.
“You’re sure you can’t do it again?” asked Leesha, who had lost all fear and was curled against his side. Tolomy sat a pace away with his tail tucked around his paws.
“Positive,” said Corry. He felt weary, having recounted the story of the hotel to the cubs with frequent interruptions. “You have a better idea of what I look like when I shift than I have.”
“You’re rather large,” offered Leesha unhelpfully, “and you’ve got wings. You could have been a pegasus or a griffin or...” She and her brother exchanged a glance.
“Or what?”
“Nothing.”
“Tell me what—”
“It’s too bad you can’t shift,” Leesha interrupted. “It would help us get down to Kazar.”
Corry sat up. “Kazar?”
Leesha looked at him with unwinking blue eyes. “To rescue my father. It was a swamp faun who tried to kill us this morning. A lizard rider tried to kill you in the river, and they might as well be swamp fauns. You saw some sort of shelts on the roof—probably more swamp fauns. Tolomy smelled swamp fauns in that bloody patch where father stopped and fought them. He wasn’t killed, or we would have found his body or at least more blood, and he didn’t leave on his own, because we couldn’t find his trail. They’ve taken him somewhere, and it must be Kazar! You’ve got to help us get him back.”
Corry sat up even straighter. “What makes you think I’d do a thing like that?”
“You want to help Capricia, don’t you?”
Corry said nothing.
“The wood and cliff fauns were turning Danda-lay and Port Ory upside down even while we were slipping out the gate,” continued Leesha. “They think cats kidnapped Capricia, but you know that’s not true. Whoever’s got our father has got your princess.”
Corry massaged his temples. “So, she really has disappeared.”
“Yes,” said Leesha, “so you’re coming. As soon as it’s light, we head for Walback pass. If you can’t fly, we’ll have to walk down the cliff.”
Chapter 9. A Warning Proves Well Founded
It is a well-known fact that Gabalon had a way of turning up suddenly in places where he could not possibly have got to. This lent to his myth as a wizard, but he deserved the praise more often as an engineer.
—Archemais, Gabalon: the Many Facets of a Tyrant
After Shyshax left Laylan, he stopped to drink from a basin in the adjoining courtyard before beginning his search for Chance. As the cheetah raised his dripping muzzle, he was surprised to see another cat, this one about half his size with golden eyes and richly spotted coat.
Ocelot, thought Shyshax. He thought, too, that he recognized her scent.
She spoke before he could move. “You don’t know me, but heed my warning: you were followed here by those who wish to kill you. Flee now. Go to Laven-lay, and tell them that it’s the swamp fauns they need to worry about. Tell them to expect an attack and soon.”
“I’ve seen you before,” said Shyshax. “You’re one of Lexis’s cabinet—Cleo, isn’t it?”
She flicked her ears. “What of it?”
Shyshax sniffed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had such a long conversation with another cat. “A warning from one of you is like...like...” He couldn’t think of the right word, so he said instead, “I’ve always been curious: what is the official position on me?”
The ocelot smiled thinly. “You mean, on cats who spy for the fauns?”
Shyshax’s hackles rose. “No, I mean on cheetahs who owe their lives to shelts.”
“Oh, you mean on cats who call a Canid their master.”
Shyshax snarled. “I mean, cats who are loyal to the only friend who ever gave two cowries whether they lived or died, you arrogant sack of—”
“I didn’t come here to measure claws with you, cheetah!” The ocelot had risen to her full height, back arched, bristling to look taller.
“Then what did you come for?” Shyshax considered how quickly he could close the gap between them, savoring the fact that for once he was larger than his tormentor.
Cleo’s words seemed to stick in her throat. “I came to pay a debt to those long dead.”
At that moment Shyshax caught a quick movement out of the corner of his eye. As he turned his head, Cleo threw herself at him, sending them both into the pool. Shyshax came up sputtering, at eyelevel with an arrow quivering in the earth beside the water.
Both cats streaked from the pool as more arrows zipped from the shadows beneath the eaves. When they reached the far end of the courtyard they came face to face with two black leopards and a lion. Shyshax veered into a passage and kept running. He glanced back once and saw the ocelot still behind. When he stopped to get his bearings, Cleo leaned against a pillar, struggling for breath. Shyshax listened, but not an echo returned to him from the dim halls.
“Who are they?” he hissed. “Why are they trying to kill me? What did you do to make yourself so guilty you had to come after me?”
Cleo shook her coat back into place. “Those cats were Liliana and her subordinates. They have betrayed Lexis to the swamp fauns. I was with his party when we were ambushed.”
Shyshax thought about that. “So the lions plan
ned a coup?”
“Yes. They used to be the kings of the Filinia, long ago in the time of the wizards. They’ve always thought they knew better than the tigers.”
“What’s that got to do with me?”
Cleo snorted. “You’re just a crumb from an old meal to be licked off the floor. Come on, let’s find your ‘master’ and get out of here.”
Shyshax hurried after her. “Tell me what you mean!”
Cleo talked softly, checking around each corner before she stepped out. “You’re five years old this spring, aren’t you? Yes, I can see it coming.”
“See wh—?”
“You know what happened to the cheetahs in Filinia?”
“I know they don’t sit on the council. I know there was a bloodbath, and I know Laylan found my mother, dead with a cub beside her. My eyes weren’t even open. Cats did that to her.”
Cleo looked at him sidelong. “They were accused of an assassination attempt on Lexis when he was still an alpha cub. He had already fought his brother and won, and Demitri had no second litter. There was a real possibility of Demitri dying without an heir if anything happened to Lexis. The crime was so serious and came so close to success that Demitri had the entire clan of Mergers executed. Many of the common cheetahs fought and died with them.”
“Mergers?”
“King cheetahs,” Cleo explained, “a different breed. The common cheetahs are permitted to live, but they have no voice on the council.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“You are a Merger.” She ignored his hiss of disdain. “A king cheetah doesn’t get his final coat until about four years of age, so the other cats didn’t start noticing you until recently. You don’t attend most of the festivals, and you aren’t around other Filinians often, so for a time you escaped attention, but not forever. See how your spots blend to stripes along your shoulders and back? Your ruff is black! Surely that must have seemed strange to you.”
The Prophet of Panamindorah - Complete Trilogy Page 22