I took a deep breath. Yes, I would do it. Despite my dislike of Slither, the situation had made us allies, and I would have to work alongside him to give my sisters some hope of survival.
“I am sure that I won’t run. I want to give my sisters a chance to live.”
Slither stared at me hard. “To release a captive during trial by combat is unprecedented,” he said. “It would be a complete surprise to everybody, including the haggenbrood.”
Then, without another word, he tugged at the chain and led me back through Valkarky to his quarters.
CHAPTER XIV
GOSSIP AND NEWS
USING a whetstone, I systematically began to sharpen the blades I planned to use in the arena. I selected two daggers—along with Old Rowler’s saber, which had quickly become my favorite weapon.
As I worked, Nessa watched me intently. I was considering her surprise proposal. She was, without doubt, brave—far braver than any other purra I had encountered—but there was a terrible risk in letting her stand in the arena unbound. If she fled, I would forfeit my life. I sensed that she was about to say something important to her, and was soon proved correct.
“I would like to ask you a favor,” she said at last.
“Speak, and I will listen,” I replied, concentrating most of my attention on the task at hand but prepared to give her a hearing.
“Could my sisters be bound to their posts without being awakened?” she asked. “I would like to spare them the terror of the arena.”
“That is impossible, little Nessa. It would not be allowed—it would deprive those who witness the trial of the pleasure of hearing them scream. And it is more enjoyable to watch someone who is conscious bleed and die. Asleep, they would provide no entertainment at all.”
As a youngster, I had once visited a trial. It had been over very quickly, but despite that, I had enjoyed the manner in which the haggenbrood dispatched its victims and the way the blood splattered, making delightful patterns against the white of the arena floor. But on my rare visits to Valkarky since taking up my vocation, I had never even considered attending another.
Now I was comfortable alone, working my haizda, and preferred to be far from the clamor of such events. I no longer found it comfortable to be close to so many of my people in one place.
“Entertainment? How can you use such a word when my sisters’ young lives might be lost? What kind of creatures are you?”
“It is just the way things are, little Nessa. We are very different from humans. It is the way of my people, and I am bound by Kobalos customs and conventions. So I can do nothing to spare you and your delicious sisters the inevitable fear and pain that awaits you.”
It never ceased to amaze me that Nessa was prepared to sacrifice herself to help her sisters. Of course, for her to stand and face even one of the haggenbrood’s selves in such a way, even with a knife in her puny hand, could have only one result. She would be dead before she realized what had happened. But I thought such bravery deserved a reward.
What would she most wish for now? I wondered. In a second I had the answer. Briefly I would suspend the solitary confinement of the three purrai.
“Would you like me to wake your sisters now so that you can have a little time alone? It might be your last chance to talk together,” I offered—very generously, I thought.
“Yes, please, I would like that,” Nessa said solemnly. “How long is it before the trial?”
“Almost a full day, so enjoy yourselves and make the best of the time that remains. I will bring your two plump sisters here, then leave you alone to talk in privacy for a while.”
So, keeping my promise, I brought the three sisters together. Of course, I did not give them privacy because I was very curious to hear what they had to say to each other, so I made myself very small and slithered into the room using a drainage hole in the floor as my means of access.
“I wish I had clean clothes and a blue ribbon for my hair,” Susan said plaintively.
“I’m sure you’ll have all you need once you’re safe in Pwodente,” Nessa replied. “Whatever happens, we are going to survive. You’ve got to believe that.”
“I’m sorry,” Susan said, shaking her head as tears sprang to her eyes. “I’ll try, but I’m not as brave as you, Nessa. I’ll try to do better. I really will.”
It didn’t seem worth staying any longer—the sisters had little of interest to say. Nessa tried to remain calm, but after Susan had complimented her on being brave, every time she started to speak, her bottom lip began to tremble as if it had a life of its own. When she finally did manage to utter a few sentences, all three sisters burst into tears and spent the rest of the time that remained to them sobbing and hugging each other tightly. It was all very futile.
I was sorry to be facing death. Now I would never attain my full potential. I needed at least a further century of study before I could complete my mastery of haizda magic and hone my fighting skills to their optimum level. It would also have been pleasing to learn that I had overcome the dangerous threat of skaiium, avoiding the weakness that afflicts some of our order. Now I would never know the outcome. However, I decided to make the best of what might well be the last day of my life in this world, so I went to my private room and snapped my fingers five times to summon Hom, a type of homunculus, who is perhaps the most interesting servant deployed in Valkarky by haizda mages. He is a gatherer of news and gossip, and his multiple shapes are specially formed for that task.
One, which is the form of a rat, functions particularly well in the sewers, making it possible for his specially adapted ears to listen in to conversations all over the city; while submerged he can focus his hearing on a conversation despite many intervening skoya floors and walls.
Another of his selves has powerful wings and can soar far above the city to view its rooftops, and thus see anyone approaching or leaving Valkarky.
The self that gives its reports takes the form of a very small figure not unlike a human male. Of course, it is covered with long brown fur in order to keep it warm, and it always lives within our haizda quarters while its other industrious bodies roam far and wide. Once it had squeezed out of its hole, it clambered up onto the chair directly opposite my own.
“Report on the progress of all other haizda mages!” I commanded.
Never in the course of my visits to Valkarky had I found another haizda mage in residence here. Indeed, it was many years since I had encountered the last one while journeying along the edge of the human territories far to the southeast. We had spent a few hours together and exchanged little more than pleasantries—we were by nature secretive. But each haizda mage made a report to Hom before leaving the city, and that information was available to me now.
“In addition to yourself, eleven others have visited and reported in the last thirty years,” Hom said. “No doubt you will be interested to know that eighteen months ago Rasptail made what he believed might be his final visit here. He is now almost eight hundred years old and fears that his powers are beginning their slow decline. Once he becomes certain of it, he proposes to end his life.”
Hom was correct in his assumption that I would be interested in news of Rasptail. After all, he was the haizda who had trained me during my novitiate, the thirty-year period that begins the vocation. After that a haizda mage must study and develop alone. Rasptail had been a harsh but fair master, and I was saddened to hear that his powers were waning. It was the haizda way to take one’s life at that point. We choose death rather than a long decline.
Next he gave report of the last known status of the other ten mages. By the time he finished, I was weary of it and demanded information about Valkarky and its inhabitants.
“What would you like first, master—news or gossip?” Hom asked in his thin, reedy voice.
News is usually quite predictable—variations on events that have been repeated in our city over many centuries. For example, there is the rate at which Valkarky is expanding; some years, growth is slowe
r, and that always gives cause for concern to those who worry about such things. Then there are statistics on the execution of prisoners—usually criminals. I find most of that quite boring.
However, I like gossip; it occasionally has some foundation in fact.
“Give me the most interesting gossip,” I instructed, noting that Hom was looking rather bedraggled, his fur matted and tinged with gray. He was getting old and would soon have to be replaced.
“The thing most talked about, master, is that a large star stone has fallen to earth not too far from the city. As it heated up, passing through the air, it took on the most interesting crimson hue, suggesting that it is composed of ore perfect for constructing blades. Many are out searching for it.”
Star stone was very valuable, but it was likely that seeking it was a fool’s errand. It had probably burned up before impact—or maybe they had been mistaken about the color. Such objects, with their spectacular pyrotechnic displays, were frequently seen but rarely found. It might even have been the same one I had glimpsed to the north. But, if so, I had seen no hint of crimson.
“Anything else?” I demanded.
“It is rumored that a lone purra was in the area where the stone fell. She was taken prisoner, but at great cost to the Oussa. They say that she resisted and that at least four of them died.”
Now, this was very interesting, but most improbable. The Oussa were the guards who answered directly to the triumvirate, which was composed of the three most powerful high mages in the city. For one person to kill four of these elite guards was even more unlikely than my own feat of slaying a Shaiksa assassin. And after all, I am a haizda mage, not a lone female.
Suddenly I felt a great surge of curiosity. “I would like to see her corpse,” I said. “Do they talk of where it is to be found?”
“They say that she was taken alive and is being held within one of the most secure of the Oussa dungeons.”
“Taken alive?” I exclaimed. That was even more unlikely. “Investigate this further,” I commanded. “Report back as soon as you are able. I want to know where the purra is being held.”
Hom scuttled back to his hole while I busied myself making preparations for my battle against the haggenbrood. I began with mental exercises in which I visualized the steps leading up to victory. First I placed myself in the arena; next, in my mind’s eye, I watched the haggenbrood haul its three ugly selves out of the pit. I concentrated until I could both see and smell the creature. Gradually I regulated my breathing, making the image sharper, but I had only completed the preliminary sequence, entering the first level of concentration, when Hom reappeared and took his place once more on the chair opposite me.
“Speak!” I commanded. “What have you learned?”
“I can now upgrade both reports from gossip to news. The star stone was found by the Oussa and brought back to the city with the purra. The present location of the stone is unknown, but the purra is being held in district Yaksa Central, level thirteen, cell forty-two.”
That was the most secure dungeon complex in the city, and cell forty-two was usually reserved for only the most dangerous and resourceful of prisoners. How could a mere purra be deserving of such an honor?
I felt an immediate compulsion to see her for myself. I had far more time than I needed to complete my preparations for battle, so this would prove an interesting distraction. Quickly dismissing Hom, I set out for district Yaksa Central without delay.
Since I was honor bound to attend the trial by combat, my movements through the city were not restricted. However, once I reached the security zone, I was likely to be questioned and even arrested if I disregarded warnings about proceeding farther.
So I made myself as small as possible, and then used magic strong enough to cloak myself against all but the most powerful of observers. Only the very strongest mages and assassins would now be able to see me. The security guards could no doubt penetrate the normal cloaking devices of city mages, but I was a haizda, and luckily our methods were largely unknown.
Level by level I began to descend. At first the corridors and concourses were thronged with Kobalos. I strolled through the lavish multicolored malls where rich merchants displayed their goods for even richer customers, while others could only gape and dream. This gave way three levels lower to the food stalls where hawkers cooked blood, bone, and offal over open fires, filling the air with pungent odors.
My favorite place here was the blood vats, where, for the price of two valcrons, you could drink as much as you wanted. I extended my tongue until I could lap the thickest, most viscous part of the delightful liquid, and then, my belly full to bursting, continued my descent.
After a while I left the Kobalos crowds far behind, encountering only the occasional guard; cloaked as I was, I was able to slip past them with ease. By the time I reached level twelve, the only things that moved were the whoskor and other similar entities. At one point I glimpsed a huge wormlike creature that regarded me from the mouth of a dark tunnel, its single gigantic, bleary eye following my progress. I had no name for it. It was new to me, no doubt spawned as the result of some new magic developed by the high mages. What disturbed me momentarily was that it could see me despite my cloaking. But it slid slowly back into the tunnel and showed no further interest in my progress downward.
It took me almost an hour to penetrate to level thirteen. Less than five minutes later, I was standing outside cell forty-two. Torches flickered on the walls of the dank corridor, which were not constructed from skoya—these dungeons had been carved out of the bedrock far below the city. I heard groans all around, and the occasional scream cut through the air, making my mouth fill with saliva. Then someone began to beg.
“No! No!” the voice cried out plaintively. “Hurt me no more! It is too much! I confess! I confess! I did all that you accuse me of. But please stop. I wish to—”
The voice became a scream of agony, which meant that the torture had continued and, no doubt, intensified. I enjoyed that, but I must tell you that I could never be a torturer of the weak. I much prefer to inflict pain in battle, testing myself against another who shows courage and mettle.
These delightful sounds came from cells where enemies of Valkarky were confined. They were being tortured, and deservedly so. It was a pleasure to hear their cries of pain. But from cell forty-two, there came no sound. Was the purra dead? No doubt she had been too weak to withstand the clever tortures applied.
I slithered under the door to find that things were quite different from what I had expected. Instantly I knew that the prisoner was very much alive. Not only that—despite my cloaking magic, she could see me. She stared down at me in a way that left me in no doubt about it. It was also clear that she considered me to be no better than an insect that she would crush under her heel.
Of course, she was in no position to do that, because she was nailed to the wall with silver-alloy pins. There was one through each wrist and each foot. In addition, a silver chain was twisted around her neck, pulled taut, and fastened to a large hook in the ceiling of the dungeon. That was not to mention the fact that her lips were stitched together with silver twine so she could not speak. I sensed that she was in considerable pain, and it was a wonder that she was not moaning.
She was not dressed in a skirt—the usual garb of both city purrai and those from outside. Her garment was divided and strapped tightly to each thigh. On her upper body was a short brown smock tied at the waist.
I blew myself up to a height that brought us face-to-face and decided that I needed to speak with this purra. No doubt they had sewn her lips shut for a purpose, and some risk might be involved in removing the stitches, but I was curious to know more. I drew a blade, and with its sharp tip very carefully sliced through the silver twine. Then I tugged it free with a jerk so that her swollen lips fell open.
What I saw within her mouth surprised me. Her teeth had been filed to points.
“Who are you?” I demanded.
She smiled at me
then. It was not the smile of a bound prisoner. It was an expression that might have flickered onto her face had our roles been reversed.
“I’ve been waiting for you to visit me,” she said, ignoring my question. “Why has it taken you so long?”
“Waiting for me?” I asked. “How can that be?”
Her expression became stern and imperious—totally inappropriate for a purra. “I summoned you to my presence two hours ago, little mage,” she said.
What madness was this? For a moment I was lost for words.
Then she smiled very widely to display all her pointy teeth.
“I am Grimalkin,” she said.
CHAPTER XV
GRIMALKIN
I regarded her with astonishment.
“You speak your name as if I should know it. I have never heard of a purra called Grimalkin. You claim you summoned me? What foolish talk is that?” I demanded.
“It is the truth,” she said. “Once I had discovered everything there was to know about you, I summoned you by magic using a spell of compulsion. There is the instrument of your undoing!”
With a slight flick of her eyebrows, she indicated the far corner of her cell. One of Hom’s rat-bodied selves was lying there. Its eyes were closed and its thin tail was twitching, as if it was in the grip of some seizure.
“Even with my lips bound, it was easy to gain control of such a foolish creature. When it came looking for me, I sucked from its busybody self all the knowledge I needed. It was then very easy to bring you here. I know all about you, mage. I know the trouble that you are in. And I am prepared to help you, but I will need three things in return.”
“Help me? You are in no position to help anyone! And soon you will be dead. Four members of the Oussa lost their lives attempting to bring you into lawful custody. Your death warrant will already have been signed. No doubt they will delay your demise in order to prolong your pain and learn what they can about you.”
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