The Sword, The Ring And The Chalice - The Sword Part 18

"How can I not?"

"Hurry!" Mierre ordered in exasperation. "I'll go down to see which way he goes."

By now Dain had reached the iron spire atop the ridgepole of the stables. He crouched there, shivering in the cold wind, and found himself nearly as high as some of the towers. One of the sentries on the wall saw him, gave a shout, and pointed.

Cursing him, Dain slithered down the other side of the roof, crouching low on his haunches and skidding along on his heels. By the time he reached the edge, he was going much too fast to stop. Dain's heart jumped into his mouth, but if he lost his nerve now he would surely fall.

Yelling, he stood up at the last moment and leaped with all his might across the gap between the stables and the next building. He landed on the other roof, lost his balance, fell flat, and began to slide down.

But this building had a ledge of sorts to channel water along the edge of the roof. Dain's toes struck it, and he stopped sliding. He lay there a moment, his sweating face pressed against the slate, and waited for his heart to stop thudding so violently.

Shouts from below sent him scrambling up and over the ridgepole of this building. On the other side, he found a drainpipe and climbed down it as far as he could, then jumped lightly the rest of the way to the ground. He listened a moment, gauging from which way his pursuers were coming, and ran swiftly in the other direction.

A shout from one of the sentries made him glance over his shoulder. He saw the knight gesturing from his vantage point on the battlements. Dain snarled to himself. Why couldn't they leave him alone? Time to go to ground, and get himself out of their sight.

He dodged around the rear of the storehouse, considered the cellars rowed up behind it, and rejected them as dead ends. The boys were still coming. Dain ran on and stopped worrying about who else might see him. He careened past the simple goosegirl feeding her charges with grain from her ap.r.o.n. Clad in her usual rags, with only a scarlet kerchief tied around her throat for finery, she watched him run by with her mouth open in a large O. A wall rose up before him. It was the base of one of the towers. Behind him, the boys shouted jubilantly. Dain's determination grew. He ran straight toward the wall and bounded up the kegs stacked there as lightly and surefootedly as a young stag.

Teetering on the very top keg as it shifted and swayed beneath his weight, Dain jumped for the windowoverhead. His outstretched fingers grazed the bottom sill and missed. The keg wobbled under his feet, and Dain felt the whole stack going. He jumped again, kicking the keg out from under him, and this time his fingers grabbed the sill.

He held on grimly, his fingers aching from the strain. Clawing desperately with his other hand, he managed to pull himself up.

Belly-first, he slid headlong through the window and tumbled onto the spiraled staircase inside. It was a painful landing, and he lay there a moment, gasping for breath. The stone steps felt cold beneath his cheek. The stairwell was gloomy and filled with shadows, its only light coming in through the window.

From outside, he heard Mierre swearing. Dain grinned to himself and sat up shakily. They would be coming in through the door in moments. Pulling himself to his feet, he went upstairs, winding around and around until he came to a closed door.

Grasping the ring, Dain tugged hard, but the door did not open. It seemed his luck had run out. He was hemmed in, with nowhere to go except down, straight into the arms of his pursuers. Gritting his teeth, Dain tugged again on the ring, using both hands and straining until the gristle in his shoulders popped. The door did not budge. From below, he heard them coming. Dain bared his teeth, breathing hard and trying to think. But he was trapped, with nowhere to go.

He kicked the door in fury and jiggled the ring again, his desperation rising. There came a click, and Dain paused for a second. He stared at the ring in his hand and slowly twisted it.

The catch clicked, and the door swung open.

Dain eeled through the narrow opening and pulled the door shut behind him. The room beyond was poorly lit, but Dain spared it no glance. Instead, he patted the door, seeking some means of barring it.

"Slide that bolt across, and it will hold firm," said a deep, heavily accented voice behind him.

Dain jumped, his heart nearly bounding from his throat. He whirled around and saw a tall figure in a long, dark robe standing no more than two strides away from him. Dain stared, unsure if this was friend or foe, but then he heard the boys' voices.

Gasping, he slid the bolt into place, locking the door just as their fists thudded against it. They shouted on the other side, but for now Dain was safe from them.

Breathing hard, he leaned his back against the door and ventured a cautious smile at the man watching him.

"Thanks to you," he said in Mandrian. "I-"

"So you are the eld of Lord Odfrey's battle, the one Thirst knights have been boasting about these last few days," the man in the shadows said. His voice had a deep, singsong quality that made Dain shiver. "I have been hoping to see you for myself, and now the G.o.ds have brought you to my workroom. Thus, it must be that our destinies are entwined."

Frowning, Dain swallowed. He did not like the voice of this man. He kept hearing something, some timbre or tone that made him think of darkness and smoke. He wished he could see the man's face, which remained hidden by shadows, but at the same time he felt relieved that he couldn't. He wondered what this man was, and feared to learn the answer. "Yes," the man said, stepping forward with a gliding motion that did not seem natural at all. "You are going to be very useful for my experiments." Instinct warned Dain that Mierre and Kaltienne were less dangerous than this man. As he whirled and tried to slide open the bolt, the man spoke a single word, a word Dain did not understand, a word like a puff of smoke. The smell of fire filled the air, and Dain's arms would not move. He realized he was frozen in place, as helpless as if bound by ropes. Fear rose through him. By some terrible chance, he had fallen into the clutches of a sorcerel, a creature who could crisp him to ashes with a mere thought.

Sweat broke out along Dain's forehead. His heart was pounding again, and his mouth had gone so dry he couldn't swallow. He stood there, struggling inside with all his might to break free, and could not move even the tip of his finger. Someone knocked on the door. "We would enter, Master Sulein," Mierre said boldly. "If you are within, grant us admittance."

Sulein glided to the door beside Dain. This close, Dain could smell the man's scent-something acrid and arcane on his clothing from the potions he concocted in this dimly lit room, but also something else, which emanated from his very skin, as though he ate odd things unknown to most folk. The knocking came again. "Master Sulein! I bid you let us enter and take the eld."

"Begone," Sulein said. "You boys are forbidden inside my tower."

"But, Master Sulein, we have been chasing the eld, at great risk to ourselves.

His highness bade us find him and-"

"This is no toy for the prince to play with," Sulein said. "Begone."

"But-"

"Will you interfere with my work, work which may save the chevard's life?"

Sulein thundered. "If I must open this door, toads will you become." From the other side came the sound of running feet, then silence. Dain stood there, still frozen in place, and swallowed hard.

The sorcerel put his hand on Dain's shoulder, and Dain flinched inside as though he'd been branded.

"You are much in demand, little eld," Sulein said gently, his voice coiling around Dain like a serpent. "The chevard wants you. The prince wants you. And I want you." He laughed, a low silky sound. "But it is I who have you. And all the powers that you command. Come to my fire, and tell me your mysteries."

The spell binding Dain's feet was released. He wrenched himself away from Sulein's hand, but there was no escape. Sulein stepped between him and the door, and Dain found he still could not move his arms.

Awkwardly he stumbled back from the sorcerel, who herded him across the room. It was filled with a crowded jumble of furniture and objects. Dain was forced toward the end, where a fire burned on the hearth.

"Dain you are called. That is no name of the eldin. I can see that your blood is mixed, but there is little enough of the human in you," Sulein said as Dain halted next to the fire.

Sulein glided closer into the light, revealing himself to be hook-nosed and swarthy of skin, with a frizzy black beard and eyes as bright and beady as a keeback's. He wore a tall conical hat edged in monkeyfur, and his long brown robe was stained and discolored in places, as though he often spilled his experiments. No gray showed in his dark hair or beard. No wrinkles carved his face, yet his eyes held all of antiquity in their liquid depths. Dain glanced at him, then away, afraid to meet those eyes for too long.

"You were Jorb's apprentice," Sulein said. "He was a sword-maker, a dwarf, I am told. How peculiar.

Tell me, did he buy you? How did you come to be in his keeping? Or were you living in the Dark Forest for a different purpose?" Dain said nothing. His face felt hot, as though fevered. His lungs could not draw in enough air. Sulein's questions seemed harmless, and yet he feared to answer them.

"How much did Jorb train you? Did he ever let you work with magicked metal?" Dain felt a growing compulsion inside him to answer. Setting his jaw, he withstood it and said nothing.

After a few moments, the pressure eased and faded. Sulein raised his bushy brows. "Ah," he said as though making a discovery. "Your powers are strong. Good. I will learn all the more from you."

"There is nothing to learn," Dain said defiantly. He spoke in the harsh dwarf tongue, and laced his tone with contempt.

Sulein cast him a sharp look. "But I shall pick you apart," he said, also speaking dwarf. "I am a collector of knowledge, and you, little eld, are a very great prize indeed."

Dain said nothing else. He could not outtrick a sorcerel; he was not going to try. Instead, he concentrated on forcing his frozen arms to move. Sheer strength was not enough. He stopped straining and considered the problem from another direction, ignoring whatever Sulein said to him. After a moment, he began to sing inside his mind. It was hard at first-he was too frightened and angry to concentrate-but after a few moments the song flowed more readily inside his mind. He sang of motion, of the wind, of the swaying branches of a willow by a stream, of the flit and wiggle of fish as they swam, of the strong wings of birds on the air. The spell holding him tight began to loosen. Feeling hopeful, Dain kept the song going in his mind. Sulein spoke again to him, but he paid no heed.

Sulein gripped him by his shoulder. "What are you doing?" Dain's arms came free. He spun in Sulein's grip, thrusting the man away. As Sulein struggled to regain his balance, Dain dodged around him, slinging a table between them as he went, so that crockery and bottles crashed to the floor. Dain ran for the door.

He reached it, ignoring Sulein's shout behind him, and drew back the bolt. For a moment his body felt heavy and slow, but the remnants of the song still ran through Dain's mind. He concentrated on that, and the heaviness lifted. Pushing open the door with a mighty shove, Dain jumped over the threshold and bolted for his freedom, smack into a st.u.r.dy barrel chest and a strong pair of hands that seized him by his tunic and shook him so hard his teeth rattled. "Got you!" said Sir Roye.

Dain kicked him in the shins and ran.

Down the steps he flew, ignoring the heated argument between the two men behind him. His feet skimmed the steps. He kept his fingertips lightly on the wall for balance as he went faster and faster.

At the bottom of the tower, the door leading outside stood ajar. Dain hit it with his shoulder and careened outside into the sunshine, which made him blink and squint.

The music swirled in the courtyard. People were still dancing and clapping their hands.

Mierre and Kaltienne waited a short distance from the tower door, like two cats crouched at a mouse'slair. Kaltienne saw him first and dug his elbow into Mierre's ribs. "There he is!"

They came at a run, and Dain darted off in the opposite direction. Hurrying past a parked cart resting on its traces, he ducked through the first door he came to, fortunately unlocked, but instead of entering the Hall as he expected, he found himself inside a small walled garden. Badly neglected, it was in serious need of tending. Many of the plants had begun to yellow from nightly frosts. Others, overgrown and sprawled across the paths, needed cutting back. Walkways atangle with weeds led to a central axis where a silent fountain stood encircled by a bench of moss-covered stone. Birds rustled and stirred within the branches of a gnarled old fruit tree in the corner. Flowers with dead blooms rattled in the chilly breeze.

On the opposite side of the gate ran a loggia littered with dead leaves. Dain trotted along this, ducking into the shadows at one end just as the boys opened the gate and peered into the garden.

"Halt!" Mierre said in alarm, thrusting his muscular arm across the opening. "We cannot go in there."

Kaltienne pushed at his arm, without budging it. "But I saw him enter."

"Doesn't matter. We're forbidden to go into the lady's garden." What lady? Dain wondered, pressing himself deeper into the shadows. He hardly dared breathe.

"He's in there," Kaltienne said with frustration. He tried to duck beneath Mierre's arm, but the larger boy shoved him back.

Kaltienne's mouth fell open. "Have you gone mad? You know what his highness threatened if we failed."

"We've got him," Mierre said firmly. "But we don't go in. Not us. The prince can, if he's brave enough."

"But-"

"I've heard the servants and knights talk about this garden. No one is allowed in here. No one. The chevard's son died here. Mayhap his ghost walks these paths."

Dain, peering cautiously around the edge of the wall, saw Kaltienne turn pale and swallow.

"Ghosts, you think?"

"I know not. But I know the chevard's wrath. If he lives I want none of his temper turned against me.

You've had one of Sir Roye's floggings. Do you want another?"

"Nay," Kaltienne said with feeling.

"Nor I. If the eld is hiding in here, he can't get out. We'll block this gate and tell his highness-"

"Quick!" Kaltienne said, clutching Mierre's arm. "Someone's coming. If it's Sir Roye, we're-" Mierre shut the gate, and Dain heard the sound of something being dragged across it.

Soon thereafter came Sir Roye's gruff voice. "You boys! What are you doing there!"

"Nothing, Sir Roye." Kaltienne's voice sounded innocent.

"You can't go in that garden. Get away from there." "We meant no harm," Mierre said. "We were just exploring-" "Did you see that d.a.m.ned eld come this way?' "No, Sir Roye," Kaltienne lied without hesitation.

Dain frowned at such smooth duplicity. It was the experienced liars who never hesitated.

"Morde a day, that fool physician had him and let him go," Sir Roye grumbled. "Did you really see the eld, Sir Roye?" Mierre asked innocently. "I heard the knights want to keep him chained in the guardhouse." Sir Roye growled something Dain could not distinguish. "Get out of here, both of you.

You're sure you saw no sign of him?"

"Not a hair of his head," Mierre answered. "But we'll gladly join the hunt." "Then go along and tell Sir Bosquecel he got away. I'm searching Sulein's tower again in case he doubled back."

Their voices faded away.

Fearing trickery, or the return of Sir Roye, Dain let out his breath with a sense of wary relief. He waited until the shadows grew long and cold within the little garden. The music faded in the distance, and with it the sounds of revelry. Only then, shivering, did Dain venture forth into the open. He hurried across the garden and pushed on the gate, but it did not budge. The boys had secured it well, no doubt pulling the cart across it.

Muttering to himself, Dain wondered how long it would be before the prince came to get him. The idea of being Gavril's prey both frightened and infuriated him. Now that he had time to think, Dain realized it might have been better if he'd stayed in Sir Roye's clutches. He'd probably have been beaten and flung out of the hold on his ear, but at least he'd have been safely away from this place. Instead, he'd let the sorcerel panic him and scatter his wits. He'd been so desperate to get away, he'd acted without thinking.

Now he was boxed in here, desperate with thirst and cold and hungrier than ever. He prowled about for some time, hugging himself against the frost-nipped air.

There were doors at either end of the loggia, but both were securely locked. Cobwebs were spun over one, showing him it had not been opened in years. The other's lock was rusted and leaves had drifted up against its base. He could find no other exit.

The fountain had apparently been dry for years-not even a drop of rainwater did it hold to quench his thirst. He searched in the gathering darkness beneath the fruit tree, but found only pits lying on the ground, the fruit long since decayed.

For whatever reason, Prince Gavril did not hasten here to claim his prey. Perhaps he was waiting until the dead of night. Perhaps he, too, feared the ghosts that walked here and was waiting until dawn.

Perhaps the prince was playing with him, hoping to make him afraid. Dain kicked the ground and wished the demons from the second world's perdition would come forth and strike the prince for his cruelty.

In time, frustrated and miserable, Dain retreated to the dubious shelter of the loggia and watched the windows high above one side of the garden. No lights came on, ever, and he realized that this wing of the hold must be as deserted as the garden itself.

Moonlight rose eventually, shining on the pathways and illuminating the silent fountain. Dain huddled on the cold flagstones of the loggia, too cold to sleep, and watched for ghosts to appear. But none walked here through the long, wretched night. He stared across the garden, studying the tracery of the tree branches beneath the windows, and realized that his only hope was to climb up and try to break through one of the shutters. He wasn't sure the branches would support his weight that high, but it was the only thing left to try, short of waiting here until he was dragged out by his tormentors.

Blowing on his cold hands and flexing them to ease their stiffness, Dain gathered his courage and determination, and began to climb.

In the night, the sound of the gate creaking open awakened Dain. Jerking upright, he scrunched himself deeper into the shadows beneath the fruit tree. The movement sent a stab of pain through his shoulder, which had stiffened since he fell out of the tree on it. Grimacing, he held back a whimper and concentrated on staying still.

The gate creaked again, and he heard the soft but unmistakable sound of wood sc.r.a.ping over flagstones.

They were coming for him at last.

Dain tried to stay calm, but his heart started pounding. His last hope had been to climb out of this trap, but after he fell he hurt too much to try again. Now, as he listened to the stealthy creaking of the gate and quiet footsteps, he gathered a broken wedge of edging stone he'd found lying in the neglected flower bed and waited for a chance to attack. Depending on how many were coming for him, he might yet find a way to get past them.

The scent of food-roasted meat and cold toties-nearly undid the last of his strength. Dain's mouth watered, and for a few moments his hunger consumed him, raging uncontrolled as though it would drive him forward to surrender, to do anything in exchange for nourishment.

"h.e.l.lo," called a voice, so soft it was barely above a whisper. "I won't hurt you. I'm a friend."

Dain did not recognize the voice, and he frowned in the darkness. He had no friends here.

"Don't be afraid," the voice said, low and rea.s.suring. "I'm coming in, but I won't hurt you. 1 have some food. I thought you might be hungry." Dain closed his eyes for a moment as weakness pa.s.sed through him and made his body tremble. He was so hungry, so terribly cold and tired. Steeling himself, he dragged open his eyes and bared his teeth in a silent snarl, curling his fingers tighter around the piece of stone. He had his dagger as well, but he would not draw it unless forced to.

The gate creaked again, louder this time, and then Dain heard it snap shut. His brain woke up and began to think more clearly. He realized that had Prince Gavril come to torment him, he would have kicked the gate open and entered boldly. No, this unseen visitor was trying to be quiet, and he seemed to be alone.

Dain sat up straighter, gathering his legs beneath him. If the gate remained unlocked and he had only one individual to overcome, then perhaps he stood a chance of escape.

Watching closely, he saw a shadow move quietly along the garden path. The moon had waned, making it much harder to see, even with Dain's excellent night vision.

His visitor stopped near the fountain. "I will put the food here. Take it when you wish," the voice said.