The God-Touched Man Page 21

  “I beg your pardon, and I apologize if this is again insulting, but the lady is Iriya Gelventer,” Piercy said. He could barely make out Ayane inching her way through the air toward Hodestis and prayed he and Dolobeka could keep the man occupied for a few minutes longer. “I recognize she resembles the lady in your portrait, but could you possibly have mistaken her for Dalessa?”

  “Of course not,” Hodestis said. “She’s not Dalessa yet, of course, but she will be soon.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Piercy, but he had a horrible suspicion.

  “When I save Dalessa, she will need a place to go,” Hodestis said. “I’ve always admired this woman and I know she won’t mind letting Dalessa use her body.”

  “I question that assumption. Mr. Hodestis, I thought you didn’t want to hurt anyone. How does killing the Lady High Chamberlain fit with that desire?”

  The grip tightened again, making Piercy struggle for breath. “It’s a small price,” Hodestis said, “and I know Dalessa will understand. She’s done so many things she regrets in the name of power, I know she’ll be grateful to me no matter what I do.”

  Ayane had angled around behind Hodestis and Piercy could now see her clearly. Another few feet and she would have him. “Are you certain?” Piercy said. “She is as changeable as any woman. She might decide the Lady High Chamberlain is not to her taste, and then you would have killed for nothing.”

  “She wouldn’t do that.” The invisible hand trembled. Ayane was nearly there. “She will love me for what I’ve done.” To Piercy’s horror, he turned away, in the direction Ayane should have been.

  “You!” Dolobeka roared, causing Hodestis to turn around fast to face him. Piercy was impressed at his quick thinking. “You…pay!” he shouted in surprisingly intelligible Dalanese. “Pay…this!”

  “I don’t understand,” Hodestis said, and Ayane leaped at him.

  She wasn’t close enough. Her fingers brushed Hodestis’s hair, the little man turned and took a couple of quick steps out of her reach, then Ayane let out a scream that ended in a pained grunt as she flew upwards hummingbird-fast and hit the ceiling hard. Her face was contorted as if a weight were pressing hard against her. Piercy shouted in wordless fear. “Stop it!” he said. “You said you had no desire to hurt us.”

  “She wanted to kill me, I could tell,” Hodestis said, and Ayane let out another grunt. “I won’t let anything stop me from being with Dalessa. Will you promise to leave us alone?”

  The grip relaxed, leaving his arms free. “What will you do if we make that promise?” he said, slowly edging his fingers toward the stick shoved through his belt.

  “I’d still have to paralyze you, in case you changed your mind, but I won’t kill you.”

  “I admit I have never seen a love so incandescent as yours.” His fingers were barely touching the silver hawk head. “Your plight has moved my heart. Are you so certain your Dalessa will return your love?”

  “I’ve done too much for her not to take notice of me. She’s not like other women, not quick to judge or to spurn a man just because he’s not tall and physically imposing. I don’t expect you to understand. You’ve probably never known what it’s like to be rejected by a woman.”

  “But I understand what it is to love from afar,” Piercy said, thinking, No, not really. He had his hand around the stick’s head now. “And I sympathize.”

  With one swift movement, he yanked the stick free so hard it flew a foot in the air so he could catch the tip. Hodestis opened his mouth to cast another spell. Someone shouted in the distance, several people were shouting, and the invisible grip vanished and Piercy plummeted to the floor, striking one of the pews on the way down.

  He lay still, unable to move because the wind had been knocked from his lungs, listening to the sound of running feet drawing nearer. Then Hodestis shouted “Frigo!” and an explosion shook the room.

  Piercy rolled over and pushed himself up in time to see Hodestis gesture at the Lady High Chamberlain, who rose into the air, still folded into her seated shape. Piercy grabbed the edge of the pew and hauled himself fully upright, felt the world spin around him, then someone grabbed him from behind and shoved him to the floor again.

  “Stay down,” a low voice commanded, and more hands grabbed his arms and immobilized them. He fought back as best he could, but his vision was blurry and there was a distant ringing in his ears. Cold iron manacles went around his wrists. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and saw Ayane lying still and crumpled on the floor several feet away. She’d been pressed against the ceiling when Hodestis had let them go. She had to have fallen twenty feet or more.

  “No,” he gasped, and wrenched at his bonds, trying to reach her. Someone struck his head hard, and everything went black.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Slowly he regained consciousness, then wished he hadn’t, because someone had driven a hot spike through his temple and was trying to pound it deeper. He tried opening his eyes, moaned in pain, and closed them again. He was lying face-down on scratchy wool cloth that smelled faintly of vomit and made his gorge rise until he had to swallow hard to keep from vomiting himself.

  Footsteps passed some five feet away, someone heavy, wearing boots with worn leather soles, then lighter footsteps went past going the opposite direction. Someone nearby, closer than the footsteps, rolled over and made a moaning sound similar to his, though in a deeper voice. “Lord Dolobeka?” he said, winced at the way his voice made his head ache, and whispered, “Lord Dolobeka, are you well?” He shivered at the chill in the air.

  “I think my leg is broken,” Dolobeka said in the same low voice. “I fell a good distance.”

  Piercy did a quick self-evaluation. Aside from the agony in his head, which he thought might be lessening, and a pain in his midsection that could be a couple of cracked ribs, he felt remarkably well. He didn’t think he’d fallen more than five feet, unlike—

  “Ayane,” he breathed, and opened his eyes. All he saw was a weathered blue blur pressed close to his cheek. He gingerly pushed himself up, closing his eyes against the dizziness and pain that struck him, and managed to sit upright on the stinking blue blanket and balance himself with his hands gripping the bench.

  He opened his eyes, blinking away blurriness. Gray stone walls surrounded him, the stones rough and irregular as if hewn carelessly from a freezing mountain and assembled without further shaping. A wooden door directly ahead had no handle or visible hinges, just metal bands and a semi-circular window cut at about eye-level for Piercy. It was barred with thumb-thick rods of iron. Because otherwise prisoners would be able to slide out through that three-inch-tall opening.

  Dolobeka lay on a wooden bench a few feet away; it was barely long enough to fit him, and he held his left leg unnaturally still, stretched out in front of him. Ayane was sprawled on a similar bench opposite Dolobeka’s, unconscious or asleep. By the Gods, please only unconscious or asleep. He stood, wobbled, then went to kneel at her side and feel for a pulse. It was strong, and Piercy breathed more easily. He gently shook her shoulder. “Ayane,” he said, “wake up. Wake up, Ayane.”

  Her eyelids fluttered, then she blinked at him. “What happened?” she said.

  “Hodestis released us from his spell and fled while we were incapacitated. Are you well? You fell from the ceiling—is anything broken? Can you see clearly?”

  Ayane winced. “I struck one of those lamps going down and held onto it,” she said. “It slowed my fall enough I don’t think I broke anything, but my head feels as if I landed on it.”

  “Let us hope that is not the case.” Piercy helped her sit. “Lord Dolobeka, were you conscious when we were brought here? Have you any idea where this place is?”

  “Santerrans do not lose consciousness over anything so small as a broken leg,” Dolobeka said. “They had to restrain me so I did not kill any of them. I would have freed myself if not for this injury. And I did not like to desert you.”

  Piercy felt unexpectedly hearten
ed. He hadn’t thought Dolobeka capable of loyalty to either of them. “So you saw where they brought us?”

  “We did not leave the city hall. This prison lies beneath the building.”

  Ayane said, “Why are we prisoners? Didn’t they see Hodestis had us pinned by his magic?”

  “I’m not sure,” Piercy said. “Even if they did, they might believe we have some knowledge of Hodestis, given that we were talking to him in such pleasant amity.”

  “I saw many guards,” Dolobeka said. “Not so many that we could not fight our way free. Were I not injured—”

  “You would have taken them all on with nothing but your bare hands, I know,” Piercy said. “Please excuse me if I am not filled with confidence in your plan.”

  Ayane cursed. “We have to get out of here,” she said. “The Gods alone know how far he’s gotten with that woman. Isn’t she important in your government?”

  “The second most important person in Dalanine, after the King. Home Defense will redouble its efforts now. Not that it does us any good.” Piercy rubbed his temples. The pain was decreasing, but the odor of vomit still had his stomach roiling.

  “Then let’s do something about it.” Ayane stood and went to the door, where she had to stand on tiptoe to see out the little window. “It’s a well-lit hallway, but I don’t see anyone. Hello! Someone let us out! You will regret keeping us here!”

  “Ayane,” Piercy began, realized she was right, and joined his voice to hers. Dolobeka just grunted and shifted his leg, ignorant of what they were shouting in Dalanese.

  After about a minute, a short, fat man in a guard’s uniform came down the hall, truncheon in hand. “Shut up, the lot of you,” he said.

  “We demand to know why we are being held,” Piercy said. “If this is the gratitude we are to receive for attempting to stop a dangerous madman, we will have very blunt words about Kemelen to share with Wilfreya Tedoratis.”

  “That’s some bravado, coming from the kidnapper’s associates,” the man said. “We’ll see how bold you are when you’re talking to the captain. Maybe if you tell her everything, she’ll make it a light sentence. No more than five years.”

  “Then we insist on seeing the captain immediately. This is a huge misunderstanding and I’m sure your captain is a reasonable woman.”

  “Not so reasonable she’s going to overlook the deaths of five guards. Now, back away and stop making noise. You’ll have your turn soon.” The guard rapped on the iron bars, making them ring dully, and Piercy and Ayane took an involuntary step backward.

  “Wait!” Piercy called out to the guard’s retreating back. “Our friend’s leg is broken. Please take compassion on us to the length of caring for his injury.”

  “One of those dead guards was my friend,” the man said without turning around. “If I could make you three suffer worse, I would.” His footsteps disappeared down the hall.

  Ayane and Piercy both leaned against the door. “They took my knife,” Ayane said.

  “All our other weapons, too.” The loss of the God’s sword gave Piercy an anxious feeling, like a memory he couldn’t quite recall, niggling at him. “They didn’t find the picks, though I am reluctant to pick the lock when we have no weapons to fight our way out past the guards. But—oh, damn them all to Cath’s five hells.” His mirror was gone. Piercy closed his eyes and cursed again. “Miss Tedoratis could set them straight in five minutes.”

  “I can’t think of another way out of here that doesn’t require one of us to be outside this cell,” Ayane said. “And, as you say, we’re unarmed. Lord Dolobeka, do you have an opinion?”

  “I cannot stand on this leg,” Dolobeka said. “But I refuse to be helpless.”

  “Which means you don’t,” Ayane said. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’ll just have to wait until the captain calls for us.”

  “I am astonished at your demonstration of patience and self-control,” Piercy said. “I believed your next words would be to invite me to help you chew our way out.”

  “You’re not funny, Piercy.”

  “Actually, I’m told my sense of humor is one of my best qualities.”

  “Then tell us some jokes, because if we have to wait much longer, I might consider the chewing plan.”

  They’d taken his pocket watch, so Piercy could only guess at the passage of time, but he thought it might have been an hour when the short guard came back with a handful of other men. They opened the door, shoving Piercy and Ayane against the wall to secure their hands behind their backs.

  Two of them pinioned Dolobeka, who fought back briefly until an incautious movement of his leg made him gasp in pain. Another man cut Dolobeka’s trouser leg away, revealing severely swollen skin and purple bruises, then roughly set the bone back into place, making Dolobeka go limp. The man strapped a couple of boards tightly to the broken leg, then signaled for the men holding him to carry him out of the cell. Ayane and Piercy were prodded to follow.

  Piercy could almost hear Ayane thinking of ways to overpower their guards and prayed she’d continue to show good sense. Fighting back now might get them put into an even more secure cell, or worse, separated, and their only hope was that the captain was, in fact, a reasonable woman.

  The corridor outside the cell smelled of old stone and was narrower than it was tall, making Piercy feel as if he should sidle crab-wise to keep the rough stones from snatching at his hair and clothes. Doors identical to theirs stood at five- or six-foot intervals in the wall to the right; smoky torches burned at about the same intervals on the left, casting the distorted shadows of their little procession that stretched and shrank as they passed. Dolobeka appeared to still be unconscious, lolling in their captors’ arms. He could hear Ayane following him closely and stretched his fingers, wishing they had some way to communicate with signs. Not that it was something any of them had anticipated needing.

  He could see the end of the corridor ahead, a narrow iron door with streaks of rust that looked as if it might take three men to open it. They’d passed eight doors by the time the foremost guard inserted an massive iron key into the lock and turned it with a horrific sound of tortured metal grinding against itself. The door swung open, surprisingly silent, and Piercy ducked under the low lintel to enter another, much wider corridor.

  He realized he’d been holding his breath and let it out, slowly. There was no sense in being agitated over this minor setback. They would convince the captain to contact Matra, Tedoratis would set her straight, and they would be free to pursue Hodestis again. He looked at Dolobeka again, who was stirring, though he looked barely aware of his surroundings. What in Cath’s five hells were they supposed to do with him? They could hardly leave him here where he didn’t speak the language and had no friends, but with a broken leg, he would slow them down considerably…well, time enough to worry about that when they were free.

  The new corridor was just as cold as the last, but the walls were of smoother, regular stone blocks, and the lighting was modern spell-lit lanterns rather than torches. They passed a couple of doors, then the guard at the head of their procession opened one that looked no different from the others and waved them in. Piercy smiled pleasantly at the man as they passed, then exclaimed when the guard struck him hard across the face, making him bite his tongue. “Don’t mock me,” the guard said.

  “I assure you—” Piercy began, then shut his mouth as the guard raised his hand again. Well, it was unlikely these cold-eyed men could be charmed, especially if they believed he was complicit in five guards’ deaths. He carefully didn’t meet anyone else’s eyes.

  The room they entered was even colder than the corridor, cold enough to make Piercy sneeze twice. There were no furnishings except for a battered table that looked like it had come from a poor man’s kitchen and a chair matching it, both of them painted a dull brown. A couple of oil lamps in iron cages hung on the walls, casting grim shadows over the bare stone floor. Piercy shivered, then tried to relax just in case they took shivering f
or a sign of weakness or, worse, guilt. He flexed his fingers again, then his calves, cursing the missing pressure of his knife. Thank the Gods they hadn’t found the lock picks; those would certainly have been taken for an admission of guilt.

  Two of the guards went through a door at the far side of the room and returned with a chair, into which Dolobeka was dropped, not very gently. He didn’t cry out, but his jaw was set with pain and he looked as if he’d come close to fainting again. Piercy ground his teeth. This was all so stupid. Hodestis had been hauling the Lady High Chamberlain with him; they could have caught him easily if not for the idiocy of the guards. Now he was the Gods alone knew where, and even Ayane probably couldn’t track him. He closed his eyes and tried not to give in to despair.

  The door opened again, and Piercy opened his eyes. A slim woman in an ordinary guard’s uniform, but with rank insignia pinned to the collars, shut the door hard behind her and dropped heavily into the chair. She wore her blond hair braided and pinned tightly around her head like a helmet; it looked uncomfortable, and Piercy’s heart sank, because she wore the expression of someone whose uncomfortable hairstyle was just one of the many things that had soured her disposition.

  She leaned back in her chair, with her arms crossed over her narrow chest, and glared at them for what seemed to Piercy like a full minute. Then she said, in an unexpectedly sweet voice, “Tell me why I shouldn’t just have you executed right now.”

  “Because you would be in violation of the law which says all Dalanese citizens are entitled to a trial in front of a jury, to bear witness on their own behalf, and to receive judgment from a duly appointed law-speaker?” Piercy said, as politely as he could manage around the knot in his throat. The captain was not going to be reasonable, and while he was fairly certain she would not have them summarily executed, she was probably going to keep them here a good long time.