"By the Lady, if you're not on your toes, you better hope you're killed! I'll ride you harder than the Sister will if you screw up now!" The troops were shouldering their shields, donning their helmets, and falling into ranks. They were already wearing body armor; they'd been ready to react at a moment's notice, which was just what was happening now… "Marshal Prester," Sharina said. The squat veteran carried a good deal of fat, but he carried it over more muscle than most men could claim. "We're heading for the graveyard where we caught the priest last evening. We'll be following the same route as we did then." "Things being as they are tonight, princess…,"
Prester said. He gave Burne, still perched on her shoulder, a funny look but didn't say anything about him. "We'd likely get there faster going widdershins along the new Boundary Road." "We're going straight through town," said Sharina, not raising her voice but holding the veteran with her eyes. "Right you are, Princess," said Prester. He turned to the company, some sixty men drawn up in four ranks. "Your highness, I don't think you understand," said an eighteen-year-old ensign. He was a hereditary nobleman who reasonably expected in five or six years to command a regiment. "There've been widespread riots tonight, and the route through the city center may be-" Pont lifted the ensign's helmet off. The boy jerked his head around and shrieked,
"What are you playing at, you fool?" Prester slapped the back of the ensign's skull with fingers hard enough to drive tent stakes. The boy yelped and staggered forward. Pont caught him and said, "Listen, you puppy! The next time you want to talk to the princess, you wait till she asks you!" He dropped the helmet back on the ensign's head.
Prester turned him around and bellowed in turn, "And then you ask us, so we can tell you if she really wants you do open your mouth-which I doubt she does." "Face left…," Pont said, rattling the palace windows. "Face!" The company crashed around to the left.
"Forward… march!" Sharina had seen troops in motion many times now. It thrilled and amazed her every time. She always compared them in her mind to a herd of sheep, since nothing in her life while growing up involved so many human beings doing any single thing. Sheep were never so organized. Not even bees or ants were organized, compared to what soldiers did daily by rote. "Double time, march!"
Hobnails sparking, spears rocking back and forth at a slant, the troops jogged along the stone street toward the center of the city.
The ensign, his helmet straightened again, was at the head of the company, but the two marshals were with Sharina and her section of Blood Eagles in the rear. She made a platform of her left arm and said, "Burne, hop down." "I can see better up here," the rat said.
"Yes, but I can't!" Sharina said. She was blind on her left side with the rat perched where he was. Grumbling, Burne dropped onto her arm.
Sharina moved up between the veterans. "Marshals?" she said, hoping she was speaking just loud enough to be heard over the clash of hobnails. "You remember the temple of Our Lady of the Grove that we'll pass in six blocks?" "The big one where the two-copper girls hang out after dark, that one?" Prester said. "I don't know about the girls-"
Sharina said, smiling. "Of course she don't!" Pont growled. "Prester, don't you have nothing but bone between your ears?" "But the big temple, yes," Sharina resumed, trying to take charge of the discussion again. "We're really going to raid it instead of going back to the graveyard, but I don't want them to have any warning. It's important that none of the people inside get away." "Shouldn't be a problem,"
Pont said. "You want prisoners?" "Some, if you can," Sharina said. The rhythm of her feet punctuated her muttered words. "Guess we can manage some," Prester said cheerfully. "Prester?" Sharina said. She scowled at the thought. "Pont? I don't know what we're going to find in the temple." Pont chuckled. "Princess, we're soldiers," he said. "We never know what we're going to find. Except that there's bloody fewgood surprises in this life." "I guess…," said the other veteran. He and his friend both carried javelins tonight in place of their batons of office. He eyed his point and went on, "That it's not going to be a good surprise for the folks in the temple neither."
Chapter 14 Ilna waited with her palms closed before her, holding a neatly folded pattern between them. She hadn't woven the yarn for Princess Perrine's arrival: her fingers had woven it because she had time and the situation might become unpleasant. Ilna found most situations more or less unpleasant. The only time she was regularly content was when she stood at her loom with no concerns but the work before her. Even before her trip to the Underworld she'd been able to create wonderful pieces, pieces that she could look on with pride. But instead of doing that, she was in a grove on northern Blaise, looking for a man she'd never met to help a man she didn't particularly like.
Well, be fair: she didn't particularly like most people, men or women both. And though this was uncomfortable, she was usually uncomfortable. Ilna os-Kenset liked to make things work. She was so skilled a weaver that even a complex fabric didn't really stretch her talents. Making people fit together properly was much more of a challenge- She gave Ingens a cold smile that made him stiffen. -and one where she was by no means sure of her success. A pair of apes wearing peaked caps and red vests walked through the dogwoods on their hind legs, lifting the lower branches out of the way for those following. Even upright they were shorter than a man-shorter than her, as a matter of fact-but their shoulders were broad. Ilna knew from experience that the apes' muscles were more like wire ropes than they were to the flesh of humans. The apes looked as dull as field hands in the middle of the harvest. Not harmless, exactly: in Barca's Hamlet there'd been brutal fights in the evenings every fall, some of them ending in cracked skulls or fatal stabbings by the knives all peasants carried. Well, the apes weren't drunk at the moment. A youth and girl of twenty or so-they looked younger, but Ilna suspected their delicate features were fooling her-followed the leading apes. There were as alike as twins. Another pair of apes shambled behind them on all fours. "That's the Princess Perrine," Ingens whispered hoarsely. "I don't know who the man is." "I'm Ilna os-Kenset," Ilna said. "I'm here to return Master Hervir or-Halgran to his family in Pandah. Will you bring him to me, please." No one listening to her tone of voice could've mistaken the final sentence for a question. "Mistress Ilna!" said the youth in apparent delight. The leading apes stopped and dropped forward onto the knuckles of their hands; he strode past them with his arms out and his hands spread. "I'm Prince Perrin and this is my sister Perrine. We'reso glad to meet you!" "And Master Ingens," said the girl, mincing toward the secretary with quick little steps.
She too extended her hands, but her arms weren't spread so wide. "I was so afraid I'd never see you again. Oh, it's wonderful that you've returned, Ingens." Brother and sister wore matching shirts with puffed sleeves, red vests like the apes' outfits, and baggy pantaloons. Their scarlet slippers had up-curling toes; there were little silver bells on Perrine's, the only difference in their garb. "Master Perrin!" Ilna said, raising her hands slightly; she didn't open them yet. "Please don't come closer!" The youth halted as abruptly as if she'd pointed a pitchfork at his eyes. Either her tone had drawn him up, or more likely he at least suspected what the pattern between her palms would do to him if she displayed it. "Please, mistress," the girl said, dropping onto one knee and tenting her hands toward Ilna before rising again. "We didn't mean to offend you. We were just delighted to have visitors so pleasant as yourself and Master Ingens." "Princess, we're here to find Hervir," Ingens said. "He didn't return after he went off with you." "Why, of course he returned," Perrin said in apparent surprise. "We offered him refreshment and showed him the crocus fields, but he went back to the waking world by mid afternoon." "He was supposed to visit us again before nightfall," said Perrine. "To have dinner with us and our father." "And to close the deal," said the prince. "He said he'd bring the money when he came back."
"Though…," said Perrine, turning her face away but looking sidelong at the secretary. "I shouldn't say this, but… I was hoping that he might send you instead, Master Ingens. There was something about you that, well… I'm embarrassed to say what I thought. What I'm thinking." "Hervir didn't come back," Ilna said.
"Fetch him to us now." Part of her mind wondered what she'd do if the couple simply walked through the brush the way they'd come and vanished; she very much doubted that their plantation was on the other side of a band of dogwoods and aspens. But the fact they'd come in the first place showed that they wantedsomething from her and Ingens. "But mistress," Perrin said, his face scrunched with worry. "We can't 'fetch,' as you say, someone who's already left us." "Brother?" said Perrine, looking even more concerned. "You don't suppose…?" She looked from Ilna to Ingens and turned her palms up. "We offered to escort him to the waking world, Perrin and I," she said earnestly.
"There are… well…" "Therecan be dangers between the planes of the universes," said Perrin, "but not often. Still, we offered to guide Master Hervir." "Hervir wouldn't hear of it," said Perrine.
"Why, you know how headstrong he was, Master Ingens. He slapped his sword and said he didn't need a nursemaid." "I think he was showing off for my sister," Perrin said sadly. "Master Ingens, I don't want to say anything against a friend of yours, but Hervir was clearly taken by Perrine. Understandably, of course, but he was distressed, distraught even, that she didn't reciprocate his affections." "He was a nice enough boy," the princess said. "If I hadn't met him first at your side, Ingens, I might not have found him so hopelessly callow."
She touched the secretary's wrist, her face shyly turned to the side.
Ilna glowered at her; Perrine jerked her hand away. "Please, we're very sorry if anything's happened to Hervir," Perrin said. "I don't know how we can convince you that he was in rude good health when he left us. Perhaps if you'd care to visit the plantation yourselves…?" "Oh, please!" said the princess. She grasped Ingens' hands, only to drop them quickly under the lash of Ilna's eyes. "Our father would be so glad to meet you both!" "Mistress Ilna," said Perrin. His hands lifted slightly, but he jerked them back to his sides before she could react. "I… it's painful to me that you doubt our good faith. If you would come with us, you could see that we're innocent farmers, unarmed-" He gestured with both hands to the broad golden sash holding up his pantaloons. Neither sword nor dagger were thrust through its wraps. "-protected only by our separation from the waking world." Ilna glanced at the apes seated on the ground nearby. One was combing the fur of another for fleas; a third had found hickory nuts and was cracking them at the side of his massive jaws, then spitting out the debris. As best Ilna could tell, he wasn't swallowing the contents; ordinarily, any nut that the squirrels left was wormy. The last scratched both armpits simultaneously and hooted softly to herself. "All right," she said. "We'd like to see your farm.
Perhaps we'll find some clue to Hervir's disappearance." Perrin and Perrine gabbled their pleasure. Again their hands lifted but were snatched back before they touched Ilna and Ingens. "Oh, father will beso pleased!" the princess said. "Yes, come this way," said Perrin.
"It's quite simple, really, and perfectly safe." "Come along, Ingens,"
Ilna said. The secretary looked less than enthusiastic until the delicate princess stood on tiptoe to whisper into his ear. Ilna frowned but said nothing as she followed Perrin around the big oak.
Usun was a solid weight in the rolled cloak, but he remained silent and as still as a sandbag. He was a hunter, all right. So was Ilna, she supposed. She wasn't sure what her prey was this time, but she expected that she'd learn before long. *** Garric walked into the temple, holding both fillets in his left hand. Behind him Tenoctris sat cross-legged on the ground, chanting into a circle she'd outlined in finely divided metal-silver, he thought, but he hadn't asked. The amber athame rose and fell as she spoke the words of power. King Carus was poised in Garric's mind, keyed to the edge of berserk violence. Carus had never been comfortable with wizardry, and being drowned in a wizard-raised maelstrom hadn't made him like it better. He knew that Tenoctris was a friend and he accepted that what she was doing was necessary- But he still didn't like it. It bothered Garric that Tenoctris used an athame now. She'd always done her incantations with slivers of bamboo which she discarded after using only once. She'd said that because athames and wands collected power with each further spell, they were likely to muddle the work of all but the greatest wizards. By risking her life and soul, Tenoctris had become one of the most powerful wizards of all time. Her bobbing athame reminded Garric both of the danger she'd undergone and of the danger to mankind which had driven her to take that risk. His boots tapped on the marble floor. The stone was highly polished, which meant it didn't get much use-if any. Marble is soft.
The golden nymphs watched Garric from just outside the entrance, standing beside the plinths on which they'd been set as caryatids.
Were they real women who'd been turned to metal, or were they metal brought to life? But that didn't matter. Garric looked down at the massive skeleton. The bones were completely disarticulated; not even shreds of cartilage bound the joints together. How long had Munn lain here? But that didn't matter either. Rather than simply lift the bone of the upper arm, Garric worked one of the fillets over the fingers and wrist, then up the forearm. Only then did he slide the silver band onto what would've been the biceps of a living man. Tenoctris had told him what to say, but she hadn't suggested how he should place the fillets. This just had seemed right to him when he faced the task.
When he faced the bones of the ancient hero. He walked around the foot of the catafalque, holding the remaining fillet. He thought he heard the bones rattle. Perhaps there'd been an earth shock, perhaps it was just his imagination. The light which curled through the solid panel was disturbing as well as deceptive. Garric had thought that he'd be more comfortable facing away from the rainbow flood so it couldn't trick him with what healmost saw in its light. Having it behind him was actually worse. Carus' instincts kept trying to spin him around with the sword ready, certain that something hostile was poised to leap. "Thereis, lad!" the ghost said. "There's something and it's an enemy!" That may be, thought Garric. But my job is to put these arm rings on the skeleton, and I can only do that with my back to the light. I will do my job. King Carus laughed. "Death isn't so bad," he said as Garric worked the fillet up Munn's left arm as he had the right. "Maybe running away because you're afraid to die wouldn't be too bad either, but people like you and me are never going to know that. Sorry, lad." With the second fillet in place, Garric returned to the entrance. He stood just inside, where he could see both Munn and the panel of light without blocking the wizard's view. She continued to chant, shifting now onto a rising note. The nymphs looked back at him with cold, sad eyes. "Eulamo!" Tenoctris shrieked in a near falsetto. Instead of thrusting her athame into the ground as Garric had expected, she turned the point straight up. A blast of scarlet wizardlight suffused the interior of the temple, glowing in and through the walls. Garric stepped back reflexively, bumping the doorpost. He blinked, though he knew it wasn't his physical eyes that the flash had dazzled. Lord Munn rose from the bier, hefting his great iron sword. He wore a simple garment of green wool with a black zigzag along the hems. A carved wooden pin over the left shoulder closed it, leaving his right shoulder bare. The marble catafalque shivered into dust motes, dancing and settling in the illumination of the wall panel. Munn raised the sword high and boomed out laughter. His hair and beard were black and full and curling. He lowered the sword and let his eyes rest on Garric. "So…," he said in a voice that rasped like thunder. "You, boy? Are you the one who called me from the sleep that I have earned?" He was a giant, easily seven feet tall; the crude sword was in scale with him. Garric laughed in turn. It wasn't an act: Carus was in his element here. They wouldn't have needed Tenoctris' coaching to know how to handlethis. "Lord Munn," said Garric, standing arms akimbo. "When you speak to me, remember not only that you speak to a king, but that you speak toyour king. I am Garric, prince and ruler of this world. I have called you to do your duty."
"And what is my duty, then?" Munn said. There was nothing pacific in his tone, but he lowered the sword and rested its rounded tip on the floor in front of him. Even for him, it was a two-handed weapon. "When you speak to your king, milord," Garric said, "do so with proper courtesy!" Munn bowed over his sword, then rose to meet Garric's eyes again. "What do you say my duty is, your majesty?" he said. In Garric's court and when he addressed the citizens of the kingdom he ruled, he kept the fiction that the king was still Valence the Third, who lived in a dream of the past in his quarters in Valles. Here, though, he accepted the honorific "your majesty" due a reigning monarch. "Milord," Garric said. "The Gate of Ivory is open. The sleep of the dead is being disturbed to aid the forces of Evil against the Good. Close the gate." The big man's laughter boomed. "What doI know of good and evil?" he said. "You know your duty, do you not, Lord Munn?" Garric said. He didn't try to out shout the giant, but no one could doubt either the power of his voice or the authority in it.
"Yes, your majesty," Munn said. "My worst enemies have never deniedthat." He smiled, an expression that Garric had seen often on the more chiseled features of the ghost in his mind. It had no humor, but there was a fierce, unquenchable joy. Lord Munn raised his sword to a slant across his chest, his right hand leading. Turning, he strode toward the flood of light. His bare feet whipped swirls from the exiguous remains of what had been a block of marble. Tenoctris was chanting again. Garric wasn't sure she'd ever stopped: he'd been so focused on Lord Munn that anything less threatening- "I've seenbloodyfew things that were more threatening than that fellow,"
Carus said. -might have gone on without his notice. Munn halted, his massive body silhouetted against the radiance, and shrugged to loosen his muscles. He hunched slightly. Then to both Garric's surprise and his ancestor's, Munn strode forward and vanished in the blaze of light. Garric opened his mouth to call, but closed it in silence.
Shouting at a rainbow-lighted slab of marble seemed pointless even in his present state of surprise. He turned to speak to Tenoctris. She sat as she'd done from the start, chanting in the soft rhythm of a lullaby. He shouldn't-and probably couldn't-disturb her. I could ask the nymphs. "Watch the place he went through the wall," said Carus harshly. "It may not be him that comes out. And it wouldn't hurt to have your sword ready." Garric grinned wryly. He left his sword in the sheath, knowing how swiftly his ancestor's reflexes could clear it if need arose, but Carus was right that they weren't here to ask questions. There was a change. At first Garric thought that it was his imagination or an overload on his eyes, but the stream of light through the wall really was growing fainter. He risked a glance back at Tenoctris. Her eyelids slumped and her body swayed, but she continued to chant softly. Lord Munn stepped out of the wall. He too swayed. Without thinking, Garric strode to the big man's side and steadied him, a hand on his left elbow and a hand on his right hip.
The play of sinews and muscles beneath Munn's skin was more like that of a horse's body than a man's. The light stopped, leaving only its memory and darkness. The wizard's incantation ceased as well. "Have I done my duty, your majesty?" Munn said in a voice of rusty thunder.
"Yes, milord," Garric's lips said, but it was the king in his mind who was speaking. "The ones who send our sort know that we'll always do our duty, don't they?" Lord Munn laughed. "Help me outside, your majesty," he said. "It's been a long time." He laughed again. "It's been ages, hasn't it?" They shuffled through the doorway. Garric was supporting much of the big man's weight, but Munn still carried his sword. It had come back with a violet sparkle on both edges, but that faded by the time they were out of the temple. Tenoctris got carefully to her feet. Normally Garric would've been helping her, but his present duty was to Lord Munn. "I'll sit here," Munn said. Garric squatted, continuing to take more than his own weight on his shoulders. The big man bent with a caution that was painful to watch.
"Milord?" Garric said. "What can I get you?" "You can return me to my rest, your majesty," Munn whispered. He leaned back, at first on his elbows, then lowering his back to the turf. He sighed and closed his eyes. He said, "Take off the armlets. You have to do it yourself-I can't." "Yes, milord," Garric said. He was whispering too. He carefully worked off one silver band; Munn took that hand from his sword hilt, then gripped the weapon again when his arm was bare. "Give the armlets back to the girls, though, your majesty," Munn said. His voice was scarcely audible. "Because you may need me again. I will do my duty if you call me." Garric pulled the second fillet clear; the muscular body fell again into a rack of bones. Garric rose to his feet. "Of course, milord," he said softly. "Your worst enemies could never doubt that." Garric held out the fillets to the nymphs. They giggled and traded the bands; he'd offered each the wrong one. They whispered among themselves, but Garric turned his back on them: he only wanted to get out of this place. "Tenoctris?" he said. "Are you ready to go?" "Yes, Garric," she said. "Though you may have to help me." "Yes," said Garric, putting his arm around the wizard's waist and letting her grip his shoulder. "That's my duty, after all." Together they walked through the woodland to where the boat would be waiting to return them to the waking world. *** Up close, Cashel saw he was looking at more of a palace than a castle, though just the same it was built to make it hard for anybody to break in. The windows on the ground floor and the one above were too narrow for anything bigger than a cat to squirm through.
Those on the top floor used to be barred with thumb-thick iron. Now several grills sagged in the moonlight, meaning the hinges had rusted through. Cashel didn't have to worry about climbing up there and wrenching an entrance, because the front door was ajar. The edge stood a hand's breadth out from the jamb, and blue light flickered through the crack. He grinned. It'd been a stout door when it was new, but age and lack of care had been hard on it too. There were statues in niches to either side of the doorway, slender stone demon-looking figures with pointy faces and nasty smiles. One was male, the other female; and while Cashel didn't think much of them as art, either one would make a fine battering ram for a man strong enough to lift it off its base and slam it through the swollen wood and corroded iron straps.
Cashel guessed he was that strong. He glanced down at Rasile. "Ma'am, are you ready?" he said. He noticed the Corl's nose was wrinkling, so he added, "Do you smell anything?" "Besides the brimstone, you mean, warrior?" Rasile said. "Not to notice. Apes have been here, but your little friend had told us that." "Right," said Cashel. Instead of putting a hand to the door, he worked the end of his staff between the panel and the stone doorpost, then pulled it fully open. There was a short alcove, just wide enough for a doorman to stand. Nobody was there, and the inner door was already swung back into the vestibule beyond. Cashel walked in, his staff slanted and ready to strike in any direction. The wall facing the vestibule had a doorway to both the right and left; the blue light was coming through those openings.
Between the openings was a solid wall painted to look like a view into a garden. The plants looked like they'd been shaped from human bodies, and instead of birds flitting among them, there were lizards with a lot of teeth walking on their hind legs. On low pillars were marble busts of a man and a woman, facing each other instead of looking toward visitors coming through the doorway. They'd been handsome people, both of them, but they had nasty expressions. "Ready, ma'am?"
Cashel said, glancing toward his companion. Rasile held her athame in a fashion that reminded him that it reallywas a knife even though it'd been carved from black stone. She nodded curtly. Cashel strode through the right-hand door into the circular room beyond. The floor was onyx.
There were several closed doors off it, framed in colored marbles. The walls were otherwise plain, and there wasn't any furniture. A woman's head was set into the center of the floor. Flames as blue as sulfur blazed from her nostrils as she breathed; that was what the light came from. She'd been the model for the marble face in the vestibule.
Another statue. It only seemed to breathe. "Have you come to help me?" the head demanded, spurting blue fire with each syllable. "Help me and I will help you… but youmust help me." "We were told Milady had taken our friend Liane," Cashel said. "We're here to bring Liane back." Milady laughed like glass breaking. "I'll let your Liane go when I'm ready to, hero!" she said. "The woman came to me, and she'll stay with me till you've done my bidding. Help me and I will help you!" Cashel looked at the head, just looked at it and thought. Rasile was standing back a little from him, but he didn't say anything to her till he figured things out for himself. "Don't think you can strike me!" Milady said. From the way her voice went up in pitch, she thought he could do that and also thought he might try. "It wouldn't help you anyway! My servants will hurl her from the top of the tower if anything happens to me." Every time Milady's mouth opened, another gout of flame licked out and the sharpness of brimstone got thicker.
It might have been a mercy to dish in her skull with the quarterstaff, but Cashel wasn't going to do that to a woman without better reason than she'd given him so far. Then again, he wasn't sure that smashing Milady's head would kill her. More was going on here than ordinary life and death. "Ma'am?" Cashel said. "What is it that you want me to do for you? If I can, I'll do it. But you have to let Liane go."
Milady spat half of a coin onto the floor; it chimed cheerfully on the polished stone squares. Breaking a coin in two was a common way to seal a pledge in Barca's Hamlet, but Cashel had always seen bronze used when it was done there; this coin was silver. "The matching half is through the door to your right," Milady said, turning her head and nodding. "Bring it to me and I will release your Liane." Cashel picked up the coin. It was so hot that despite his calluses, he bounced it a few times in his palm. It had a man's head on one side and a pillar with two wings sticking out of it-they looked like wings, anyhow-on the other. He didn't say anything for the moment, but he tucked the pledge into a fold of his sash. As a boy he'd have carried something as valuable as this in his mouth, but- He grinned. -he'd seen a lot more silver now than even a rich man would in the borough. Besides, even if he cared about money, he didn't think he'd putthis coin in his mouth. This door and the one across from it had white panels set out with gilt borders, the sort of fancy thing you'd expect in a place like this. It hadn't weathered at all, though, despite the door standing ajar and the house on the edge of falling down. Cashel pulled it open. The room on the other side looked pretty much like this one, though it was a rectangle instead of round and the floor was a pattern of brown and tan tiles instead of squares of black stone. There was a little marble shelf sticking out of the far wall, supported by scrollwork. The glitter on it was likely the rest of the coin in his sash. Cashel looked back at the head; it had turned to watch him. "All right, ma'am," he said. "I'll do my best to fetch you the pledge, but you have to let Liane go now. She can stay with Rasile till I come back." "You'll get your friend when you bring me the coin!" Milady said. She had a voice like an angry squirrel. "Go on, hero! Get the coin!" "No, ma'am," Cashel said. He turned and spread his feet out to the width of his shoulders. Rasile was watching from just inside the doorway from the vestibule. She'd laid her yarrow stalks but she wasn't using them for anything just now. Her tongue wagged in a laugh.
The Coerli sense of humor was a good fit for this sort of business.
"Ma'am," Cashel said to the head, "you'll bring Liane back now or I'll look for another way to get her free." "There is no other way!" said Milady, even more of a squirrel. "Maybe, maybe not," said Cashel. "But you won't be around to learn which of us was right. Now, bring Liane down to us, please." "Are you threateningme?" Milady shrieked, her face a mass of anger. "No, ma'am," Cashel said. "I'm telling you to hand Liane over to Rasile here and then I'll go fetch your pledge."
"Doomed one?" Rasile said. "You picked this warrior because of his strength. You will underestimate that strength at your peril." "Bring the woman here!" Milady said. She spoke in the same voice she'd done before, no louder, but Cashel wasn't surprised when the door on the other side of the circular room opened. An ape shambled in on its hind legs. It reached one long arm behind it to hold Liane's wrist. She walked as straight as she could, but the second ape behind had the other wrist and they weren't in step with each other. Cashel's face went very quiet. He'd swipe the head in the floor as he brought the staff around, then take two strides and with the second ram a butt cap into the- "Let her go!" Milady said. Her voice wasn't any more pleasant than it had been, but at least she was saying the right thing. The apes obeyed quick as quick, dropping down onto their knuckles. Liane darted around the beast in front of her and started toward Cashel. She'd lost the other sandal too, or more likely kicked it off because she could move better barefoot than half shod. "No ma'am!" Cashel said. She stopped: he hadn't meant to shout like that.
"Ah, Liane," he said. "I've got business to tend to in the next room.
Stay with Rasile, please, and I'll be back just as soon as I can."
Cashel walked to the door to where the pledge piece was waiting. He skirted the head without looking down at it. It wasn't right that Milady take Liane hostage to make him do this, but Cashel was a peasant. Talking about what's fair isn't going to put food in your belly during the Hungry Time in March. This was something he could do that got Liane free, so he was doing it. There wasn't anything about the room beyond that looked funny, but if it was as easy as it seemed, Milady would've sent her apes to fetch the coin. Cashel poked his quarterstaff through the doorway and tapped the floor. It clacked duller than it would on stone, showing it really was pottery like it seemed. But it also popped a bright blue spark every time the iron touched. There was wizardry involved, which wasn't much of a surprise.
Cashel smiled, sort of, the way he generally did before a fight. He wasn't one to start trouble, but nobody'd seen him run away from it yet. Sideways with his left hand leading on the slanted staff, he strode through the doorway. All his hairs stood up. The room was gone.