J. F. Bone, page 13
“There must have been more than twenty,” Martha said.
“Well, let’s find out,” Alwys said. I looked at her with mild surprise. It was the first positive thing I had heard her say since I had met her. I looked at Martha, a question in my eyes. She lowered her lids and looked innocent.
I shrugged and led the way up the stairs. We all carried candles, which made the ascent easier, but even so it was quite a trip. We came to the locked door and I pushed back the wards, jamming them with my dagger to prevent the door from swinging shut and locking as it had done before.
The corridor was empty; so was the common room and the kitchen. Gerd’s quarters were a shambles. I found the door to the cell block closed and barred. I looked through the spyhole in the first door.
“Martha—you and Alwys go back to the kitchen at once!” I said. “Bring water and cups or dippers. Move!”
“What is this?” Sar Malthor asked.
“Don’t talk, give me a hand.” I swung the door open and Sar Malthor gasped. The girl was still alive—so were twenty-two of the twenty-four in the aerie. One had hanged herself in her chain, the other had apparently died a day or so before. The rest were badly dehydrated and starved, but were still alive. Several weren’t rational, but Martha assured me that this was only temporary. It was not until early in the morning that we finished caring for Sar Virra’s harem, which had simply been forgotten by everyone.
Martha and I went through the place a second time, just on the off chance we might have missed something. “I knew that I was in a prison cell,” Martha gasped as she looked into the room she had so briefly occupied, “but I didn’t realize it was part of a block.”
“Hello,” I said, “what’s this?” We had come back to Gerd’s quarters and as I leaned against what seemed to be a panelled wall, it gave a little under my weight. “There’s a door here.”
“Why would it be hidden?”
“Because it held something Gerd didn’t want to show to people.”
“A makeup stand maybe?”
“Don’t try to be funny.” I was feeling around the doorway and by pushing on it I could see its outline, but I couldn’t move it beyond the first tiny crack. “Guard!” I yelled.
A sentry appeared. “Yes sir—what do you want?”
“A battleaxe,” I said, “get me one, now!”
“Yes, sir,” he said and vanished. Five minutes later I had my axe.
Six strokes later we were in an ugly little room. It was obviously a torture chamber, filled with instruments ingeniously designed to inflict pain without causing visible damage to the victim.
“Do you think she used these things?” Martha asked as she fingered a device composed of straps and levers whose purpose was all too clear.
“Sure, probably used the hearth over there to toast her victims. Notice the ingenious arrangement beside it. Have you ever noticed how sensitive your peripheral nerves can become to heat?”
“Stop it!” Martha clutched my arm. “This place is bad enough. Now that I know what Gerd was talking about I don’t want to know any more! Let’s get out of here.”
“Just a moment. There’s another door. Let’s see what’s behind it.”
“Your curiosity is going to cost you dearly some day.” Martha prophesied. “Something big, green and scaly, with teeth, is going to pop out of one of these doors you open.”
“Now I know why Sar Virra had such good control over his women,” I said. “He left nothing to their imagination.” I pushed the door open. “Oh my God!” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Get out of here. Get a detail and a litter. This is no place for you—or me. Sar Virra didn’t kill her, but the lack of food and water did the job he started. She’s dead.”
“Who’s dead?”
“Kyri Vanatra—Sar Tami’s love.”
Martha made a strangled sound of pity and pain as she looked over my shoulder. “What did the poor girl do?”
“She talked back to Sar Virra.”
“No!” Martha said, “don’t go! She’s alive!”
Kyri’s eyes opened and focused on Martha. Two tears trickled down her cheeks.
“Oh you poor baby!” Martha said softly as she went down on her knees beside the girl. She touched her and Kyri screamed, the croak of raw vocal cords that had screamed too long.
“She’s mine,” Martha said. “I’ll take care of her. Have someone bring food and water and a litter. We’ll take her to our rooms wherever they are—”
I didn’t wait for her to finish.
CHAPTER 19
“I think I should inspect the dungeon,” I said to Sar Malthor the next morning. “I would like to go with you, he said. “It would be preferable to what has been arranged for me. Othvar tells me that I must receive the Guildsmen who have petitioned for lower taxes. Now what do I know about taxes?”
“Stall them,” I suggested. “I’ll have the clerks go over the records and if the taxes are too high we can reduce them. Don’t make a snap decision.”
“I had no intention of doing that, but there will be much talk of things in which I have small interest.”
“You’ll learn, and probably you’ll like it before you are done.”
“I wonder,” Sar Malthor said. He looked down at me from his greater height. “You found another prisoner in the aerie, I have heard. Is she still alive?”
“She is,” I said, “but barely.”
“Who is she?”
“Kyri Vanatra, Sar Tami’s love,” I replied, “but she’s in no condition to see anyone. Martha is caring for her.”
“Bring her to health if you can. She may be useful to us. It would be helpful to have Sar Tami owe us a favor. How long do you think it may be before she is well?”
I shrugged. “Who knows?” I said, “Physically maybe a month. Mentally probably longer. Perhaps as long as a year. I will have to ask Martha. Healing the sick is her field.”
“Keep me informed,” Sar Malthor said.
He was already beginning to sound like an executive, I thought with satisfaction. Probably he’d be acting like one before too long. I hadn’t spelled it out, but he understood instantly my interest in Kyri. She could mean more to Valthi than any other single thing. For it is valuable to have friendly neighbors; if we could obligate Sar Tami, we would have Jartan as an ally. I was more than satisfied with Sar Malthor. If he kept developing and something happened to the Tarnas, he might well become ruler of all Tharn.
I sighed and considered my place on the castle staff. I was Sar Malthor’s right hand, and I was glad that was all I was. It was a weakness in my character, I suppose, that I disliked final responsibility, but I was happier with an executive who backed me up and left me alone. And certainly I had to have such a boss here for I was too alien to rule directly. I was already being called the warlock and my invasion of the castle was cited as evidence of my magical powers. I was hated already by some survivors of those whom Sar Virra had hanged and by others for no other reason than my strangeness. I was envied by others for the power I wielded. And I was loved, too, but only by Martha and Sar Malthor.
A squat man in a stained, leather jerkin and dirty, cloth breeches rose to his feet as we entered the dungeon.
“Welcome, your worships,” he said in a husky voice. His eyes, bright beads in his lined face, twinkled at us from a head peculiarly askew on a thick neck.
“Grut, our warder and hangman,” Othvar said. “He comes by his position honestly. Many years ago he was hanged—by Sar Samdi, I believe.”
“Aye,” Grut said, “He were the one.”
“But the rope broke rather than Grut’s neck. It pleased our lord that he survived, and he made Grut the hangman when he recovered.”
“And my first duty was to hang him who had tried to hang me,” Grut said. ” ‘Twas a fitting end for that bungler.”
“Grut has never made the mistake of failing to hang a man properly.” Othvar said.
“We’ll not be needing a hangman,” I said firmly.
“You don’t mean that!” Grut protested. “There is always need for a hangman, and I’m the best in Tharn.”
“Don’t frighten him, sir,” Othvar said. “If he thought he were not needed, it would kill him. He would have nothing to do and nowhere to go. Because of his trade he is feared and hated by castlefolk and townsmen alike. Remove him from the Provincal’s protection and the folk would kill him. And besides, sir, he is a good man and an efficient worker.”
“We will still be needing a warder. I would not cast him out,” I said.
Grut grinned crookedly. “Thank you, your worship. And someday there will be others to hang. There always is.”
“We wish to see the prisoners,” Othvar said.
“Aye, my birds are in their cages. Come with me sirs.” Grut picked up a ring of keys from the bench and unlocked an iron door. “They be this way, my little beauties. Which do you wish to see?”
“All of them. And I want their histories.”
“Aye,” Grut said as he led the way down a dark noisome corridor lined with grated doors. “These three,” he said, “were to be hung this week an the old lord lived. They were guards who were neglectful of their duties and let a maid escape.”
“Release them,” I said. “Have them report to me tomorrow morning in proper dress.”
“Aye,” Othvar said.
Grut swung the door wide, “Out with you. Back to your huts, and be grateful that your new lord is merciful. An he were not you’d be seeing me professionally.”
“It’s a sight I’d rather forego,” one of the men said as they scrambled out of the cell.
“This one,” Grut went on, “is a townsman. He refused to pay taxes levied by Sar Virra.”
“Release him,” I said.
We passed down the line of cells. Whatever Sar Virra might have been, one thing was certain. He was a firm believer in jails. The cells were mostly filled.
“Would you care to see the question room, your worship?” Grut asked. “There is only one prisoner there now. We received her this morning from Sar Tami. He thought our new lord might want her, and he had given his word that he would not mistreat her.”
“Her?”
Grut nodded.
“One moment, sir,” Othvar said. “Before you become too merciful you should know that this one is Gerd, the keeper of Sar Virra’s women. I have placed her case before our lord in writing.”
“Well, let’s see her.”
Grut led us into a cavernous room filled with devices of wood and metal. The purposes of some were horribly clear, the use of others was more obscure, but it was obvious that this was a torture chamber.
“You like it sir?” Grut queried hopefully. “I keep the instruments clean and ready for use.”
“Where is the prisoner?” I asked.
“In there,” Grut said, pointing to a door set in the far wall.
Gerd looked at us, blinking painfully as the light struck her eyes. Slowly she came to her feet. She was big, plump and muscled like a peasant, but her body had a shrunken look as she cringed back from the light. She wore a smock, but it didn’t hide the quivering of her flesh.
“Are you come for me?” she asked. She didn’t ask for mercy, I noted. Undoubtedly she knew it would do no good.
“Do you know Sar Virra is dead?” I asked.
“No—that cannot be!”
“Well, I’ll be damned!” I said. “She sounds sorry to hear it.”
“Gerd was loyal to Sar Virra,” Othvar said. “He took her out of the stews and made her someone of importance. She never failed him until that woman escaped. But that was failure enough. Sar Virra would have hanged her.”
“Keep her safe,” I said. “We will deal with her later— justly, I hope.”
“I gather that she may miss the irons,” Grut said, “but will probably get the rope.” He grinned as he closed the door on her frightened face, locking her again in the tomblike dark of the cell.
“Are there any more?” I asked.
“No, sir,” Othvar said. “That is all. You found the others.” His face was blank. “There was a reason, I think, for the dungeon, but none for the aerie,” he said.
“You didn’t approve?”
Othvar stiffened. “It’s not my place to approve or disapprove. I am only the castellan. I keep the castle in order. Frounce keeps it provisioned. Kensyr defends it. Our duties have little overlap. I neither know nor care what my lord’s reasons may be. I guard his prisoners, keep the quarters, see that the services are performed. Beyond that I do not go.”
Compartmentalized! I thought. People like Othvar neither knew nor wanted to know what was going on beyond their narrow field, and they neither cared nor wanted to care. No wonder it’s easy to take over control of a place like this, I thought. Act like a leader and the sheep follow. They can’t help following any more than they can help breathing. They demand a leader. It’s pretty poor material to turn into a civilized state. I sighed. “All right, Othvar, let’s go,” I said. “We’re through here.”
CHAPTER 20
I sent for Othvar and told him I wanted to see the guardsmen I had released from the dungeon. As I recalled there was one who was different from the others, a tall alert fellow who lacked the stolid attitude of acceptance that characterized most men-at-arms. Most soldiers were Tharns who decided that a pike was better than a plow, and cast their lot for soldiering after they had failed their primary education. I had checked with Kensyr and discovered that the one named Furth had almost become a lordling before failing his secondary education. If he had any moral character at all, I could use the man. I needed intelligent people. I wondered if he was the one I had marked among the prisoners. It would be pleasant to discover I was correct in my judgment.
He was the second to appear. He came clinking into my chambers in full armor with a clean gold-and-white japon over his mail. He gave me a brisk military salute and stood motionless. Only his eyes were alive. They watched me with a mixture of worry and curiosity, which I understood. Suddenly I recognized him. He was the guard with the girl friend in the aerie.
“Pikeman first-class Furth, reporting as ordered, milord,” he announced, before he lapsed into alert silence
“I took you from the dungeon, Furth,” I said.
“Aye, milord.”
“Would Sar You won’t get themirra have hung you?”
“Probably, milord. He was not forgiving.” Furth’s voice was expressionless. “He had already hanged three of us before he went to his death.”
“Was the sentence just?”
“I suppose so, milord. I had left my post to relieve myself. I should not have left. The strange woman must have escaped while I was gone. It was my fault that she escaped.”
“You have all the qualities of a good liar, Furth,” I said.
“Milord?”
“You keep the story simple and basically truthful. You do not embellish, you do not deviate. Yet you lie.”
“How, milord?”
“You are shielding someone. You have been since the beginning.”
“That is not so, milord.”
“Her name is Alyse,” I went on. You were with her and not alone.” I shook my head. “There is no need to lie to me. I am not Lorn. I have no reason to punish you or your mistress.”
“You are indeed a warlock as they say. No man could know that; but why am I here then, if not to be punished for deserting my post?”
“I need you. I want you to take ten men and mark a map for me. Kensyr tells me that you are better educated than the ordinary man-at-arms, and that you missed passing first trials only because you were irreverent.”
“I was a fool, milord, I should have dissembled. I know the value priests set upon belief in Tharn, but I was young and hot-headed.”
“You have learned to become a better liar since.”
“Aye, milord.”
“See to it that you do not lie to me in the future. If you do well with this mission, I will have you sponsored for another trial. What I have learned of you indicates that you could be a good lord. You lie, but not for personal gain.”
“I shall do my best, milord.”
“Then come with me. I shall show you what I want.” I led him over to the table near the window where a large scale map of Valthi was unrolled. “You can read a map, I suppose?” I asked.
“Yes, milord, I can even make one.”
I nodded. Kensyr had told me of his talents. “You will take ten men and map Valthi,” I said, “but the map you make will not be an ordinary one. It will show the points that can look toward other points, or into valleys. It will show the shortest lines of sight that can be stretched from town to town. The points must not be more than two harads apart.”
“It will take several weeks, milord, perhaps several months.”
“Weeks,” I said, “I do not want all the points, just the ones connecting manors and the regional forts to Zamal. That should be done quickly. Do the job within the month, and bring the map to me. You will leave as soon as you can. Othvar will furnish you the men and equipment. I will take Alyse into my household as a maid so she will be under my protection while you are gone.”
“I shall do my best, milord,” Furth said. “I shall not lie to you again, and you shall have your map as soon as I can make it.”
Martha came in shortly after Furth was dismissed.
“Sar Malthor presented a cultural contribution to Tharn,” she said. “What happened to it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“The jesset collar.”
“I still don’t know. It’s being used, I guess.”
“Well, why not find out. You want to get out of here. So do I. I want to get back to civilization.”
“How is a jesset collar going to help us fuel our space ship?” I asked.
She smiled, the kindly, pitying, superior smile a governess reserves for a not-too-bright child. “Haven’t you ever studied the development of civilization?” she asked.
“Years ago,” I answered, “somewhere in elementary school.”
