Mastiff: The Legend of Beka Cooper #3, page 45
“Sabine,” Lord Thanen said. Everyone on that dais went still. Looking at them all, I knew this was the noble core of the rebellion. Elyot’s brother Graeme of Aspen Vale was there. Other lords in armor or silk held the chairs on either side of the prince and Thanen, waiting to hear what he would say. A couple of them leered at Sabine, but changed their minds when Tunstall glared at them.
Sabine had not moved when Lord Thanen called her by name. She waited, legs slightly spread for balance, hands clasped lightly in front of her. She’d made it plain she was prepared to fight, with or without weapons.
Then I saw the boy struggling to fill Thanen’s wine cup from a heavy jar. It was stupid. He was little, four by my estimate. He was dark-skinned and dark-haired.…
He spilled. Of course he spilled. He was a little boy surrounded by great lords, and he was only four years old. Lord Thanen gave him the back of his hand, knocking the child into the shadows behind the chairs. The wine jug fell to the floor. “Nomalla, tell one of the squires to get out here and serve,” he snapped. “See that the slave gets five strokes. And have someone clean this mess up.”
Nomalla bowed, but from the way she clenched the hand on the side opposite her father, she did not appreciate being ordered about like a housekeeper. No one else had moved. How many of them knew the identity of the little slave? I was shaking from head to toe. I had gotten my first look at my quarry and, like Achoo, I was ready to launch myself across any ground between me and him. The bruise around his left eye, the long red scrape on his right leg, visible where the thin tunic he wore ended, those only made my need to sweep the lad up and run with him worse. I had often wondered if years of chasing Achoo had made us sommat alike. Now I knew it was true.
The squire was there almost instantly with a jar of wine and fresh cups. He must have been waiting outside the door. He was graceful and quick, coming around behind the chairs, but he could have been as clumsy as a bullock and no one would have noticed. They were all waiting for the lord of Halleburn. How could he keep so many in thrall?
Thanen himself had not taken his eyes off Sabine. When the squire had refilled Prince Baird’s cup and given Thanen a new, full one, the old man waved a long white hand at Sabine. “Give the lady knight a cup.”
Sabine’s deep, rich voice rang out through the hall. “I would not drink it if you held my nose and dumped it down my throat.”
“Sabine, Sabine,” Thanen said, trying to look sorrowful. “Is this the way to speak to family?”
“I do not feel like family just now, my lord,” Sabine told him. “I feel like a traveler who has been caught by robbers and dragged to their hideaway.”
Tunstall cleared his throat. “Beg pardon, lady knight, but that is what happened.”
“Were you not Sabine’s … special friend, I’d serve you well for your impudence,” Thanen snapped. All of his speech seemed to come from one side of his mouth, as if he were forever sneering. “As it is, count yourself fortunate and hold your tongue. Many here will tell you I am not a patient man.”
Everywhere I saw heads bow, as if folk wanted to agree but were afraid to do so even when they had permission. He had to be a very nasty bit of work, if these wellborn folk were so skittish around him.
“Sabine, we may be here initially as enemies, but that need not be so,” Thanen said in that cozening way. “We could mend our differences. Did you know your grandfather Masbolle has revised his will? He is very old. Should you not die before him, you will be very rich.”
Sabine’s head jerked back. “I did not know of the change to his will, nor do I care. I also did not know that it is suddenly legal for anyone not a member of the family to read a will.”
The old barnacle stared into his wine cup. “Accommodations can be reached between friends with mutual interests,” he said idly. “Just as they can be reached between great heiresses and kings.”
“The king is married,” Sabine replied.
Thanen looked up at her, his eyes blue ice. “Don’t be a fool, girl. Your grandfather is ailing. Your marriage would bring with it connections to this house, Masbolle, Cavall, Mandash, Queensgrace, and Niede’s Jewel. You would be King Baird’s queen instead of a vagabond.”
I ducked my head. He didn’t know Sabine very well, to say that such things would interest her.
She paused for a long moment before she said, “If you think you’re just going to wave pretty promises before me, you are wasting your time. I admit, I’ve considered a change. A woman gets older.”
“Sabine!” Tunstall said, horrified.
“Not you, pet.” She actually patted his cheek.
I was going cold all over. I’ve had nightmares, but none like this. I prayed all the gods that this was sheer trickery from Sabine. If only she weren’t so convincing!
“I want something more solid to deal on,” she told Thanen. She looked at Baird. “And I keep Mattes. I know you. You’ll never give up your amusements after we wed. Well, I demand the same.”
Prince Baird slowly grinned at her. “Done.”
“Hah!” Thanen actually rubbed his hands together. “Then let’s retire to someplace more private for proper negotiations.” He looked at Farmer and me. “As for these two, ensure he is useless, then toss both of them into the dungeon until I’ve decided what to do with them.” He pointed at us. “You’ve cost me time and money. I will have some satisfaction before I’m done with you.”
I fought, of course, but the mages laid a stillness on us both until guards could come. They took Farmer one way and me another. Down through back stairs in the keep we went, the air getting colder and colder. At last we passed down a long stone corridor marked with doors that held barred windows at face height. The hall ended in a watch room where two guards played at dice on the floor. They took charge of me and walked me back to one of the cells. There they unlocked the door and shoved me in.
The cell wasn’t so bad, as cells go. There was torchlight through the window in the door, giving me a decent view. I paced it at ten feet by fifteen feet. Back home it would be considered a four-man place, but we liked our Rats good and annoyed with each other while they were caged.
There were narrow stone benches or beds built into two walls facing each other. There was no window to the outside. Straw and rushes lay on the floor and two sets of shackles were bolted to the rear wall, in case they wanted to keep a prisoner standing. A piss bucket, empty, thanks to the gods, sat in a corner. The stink was bad, but not as bad as it was at Outwalls Prison, say, or even the cells at Jane Street kennel. Thanen must not get many visitors to house down here.
Judging from the narrow cracks in the walls, I knew there’d be rats and mice. I had naught to ward the rats off. I rather like mice, but rats will fight. The cell was cold, too. That might account for there being so little stink. There were fleas and lice, but they left me alone. I hoped that was Farmer’s spell at work, but who knew how long it might last? I might be the only corpse uneaten by worms sent to the god by these Rats, at least until Farmer and mayhap the others joined me. I had no faith in Thanen of Halleburn’s bargain with Sabine and Tunstall, however much she might have believed it. Having cooled off in more ways than one, I was finding it harder and harder to think that she or Tunstall could have turned into the folk I saw in that great hall. On the other hand, I had little trouble at all imagining that they’d done it to gain time to work a way to get themselves and mayhap the prince, Farmer, and me out of this trap.
My inspection of my new home done, I lay on one of the stone benches, hugged my arms around me, and concentrated on the palace in my memory. I would not think of Farmer’s fate, or Pounce’s, Achoo’s, Tunstall’s, Sabine’s, or my own. If I did, I would shake myself to pieces. It was better to do something, even if it was only in my head. I began work on my journal for the time since the fire at the Wayhouse, making sure each event of our arrival there and all that happened thereafter was set exactly where I might find it if I lived. I included what had been said by my companions to have the fullest report I could put together. It seemed unbelievable that I would survive this halt in our travels, but that was no reason to be sloppy in my record keeping.
I dozed off, I believe, as I was trying to fix the god’s ever-changing self into a shrine separate from all else, where I might see him again. There was comfort in remembering the beautiful melting colors of his robe and the power of his voice. I knew I was sleeping when I half woke to find a long, thin black body stretched out on mine, giving off warmth like a fire. I hadn’t known until then that I’d been shivering.
“What?” I asked.
Hush, Pounce replied. The guards won’t see me, so don’t talk aloud to me in front of them. Unless you want them to think you mad, of course.
“What of Achoo?” I asked fearfully. “Is she dead?”
You underestimate her, Pounce said. She played at it once she woke from that mage-trap. Once no humans were about, she went into the trees and tracked your captors until I made her stop, before she went on the causeway. She is well and in a better position than you.
I was too worn out from the scant rest I’d had in the last few days on the road to give him a pert answer. I muttered my thanks for the knowledge and went back to sleep. When I woke again, it was because the guards were rattling the cell door, opening it.
They took me out of there twice. They did not tell me what day it was or how much time had passed, any more than they told me the fate of my Hunting pack. The only things they said when they took me to that other dungeon room were questions and orders. I will not tell of that, not in this journal, not in the official report. I started silent like any tough Rat and ended in such a mixed pottage of whatever lies would please my questioners that I cannot remember what I said. They gave me the Drink, far worse than my training experience of it, but mostly they used their fists. Even I could tell they weren’t that interested, or they would have used instruments on me. They showed them to me to frighten me more, as cell Dogs would, but it was only for show. They used none of them, drawing none of my nails, breaking none of my fingers, not even strapping me to the rack. After the second time, they didn’t return to my cell.
Pounce told me they were bringing the brown, sloppy stew and the jug of water once a day. He would purr me to sleep and make a pretense of washing my hair that miraculously left it clean and properly braided. It was all he could do for me with the eyes of the Great Gods now fixed on this place and this time. It’s funny how much it comforted me, though, to feel my hair clean and neat when the rest of me got filthier by the day. He also told me tales of the Great Gods and heroes of the past to entertain me. I did what exercises I could. That helped, too. Planning my testimony before the Lord High Magistrate, so I would not stammer as I might if I gave it cold, helped as well.
Tuesday, June 26, 249
Halleburn Castle
Still as I record it in memory
On the third day by Pounce’s reckoning, we had company. I had waited to see if they would plant someone else with me, in case a spy could get any information from me, so I wasn’t surprised by the new arrival.
“I wouldn’t be in yer shoes if ye had ’em,” one guard said as they heaved a big cove in an undyed linen tunic and breeches into the cell. “Them mages upstairs is all beggin’ my lord for yer blood. Seemingly they can do all manner of wicked things wiv it! Still, a last night with your lass—enjoy while ye can!”
“At least till they start bleedin’ yez,” his partner said.
The shape raised his head. It was Farmer, tangled hair, black eye, bloody nose, bruised face, and all. He was a surprise, and a glad one. And they were utter dolts if they thought we would say anything of interest to them.
But how did common jailors know that I cared for Farmer beyond the bonds of a Hunting team?
“Doesn’t it matter to you that they want to use those ‘manner of wicked things’ to kill the king and queen?” Farmer asked the guards.
There was a crack of crude laughter as the guards slammed and locked the door. “If’n it’ll get my lord out of the castle and livin’ in Corus, they might kill every king and queen wiv our blessin’!” cried the one who’d spoken first. “Anything to take my lord’s attention off us!” The other one hushed him and they went chuckling down the hall.
Unwise to beard those creatures, Pounce said from his seat in the cell window. You’re lucky this time they laughed.
“Luck has nothing to do with it, Pounce,” Farmer replied calmly. “They’re under orders not to beat me. Their masters believe they have other ways to get at any information I might have.”
I believed him, of course, but I still waited until they were out of hearing before I got up from my bench to help Farmer to his feet. I’d meant to get him to the other bench, but his ideas were different from mine. He wrapped both arms around me, but let go swiftly when I yelped. “What have they done to you?” he asked, turning my face this way and that in the light of the cell window.
“Not nearly what they should have done, if they were cell Dogs at Jane Street,” I replied, inspecting his face and mauled hands. His fingers weren’t broken, but it looked as if they’d had a try at his nails, and lost. “I’ve been wondering why they haven’t done that to me. Not that I’m ungrateful,” I added hastily.
Farmer made a face. “I’m not as hurt as I look,” he whispered. “I feel bad, but not as bad as I could. If they really try to hurt us with the rack, the ugly parts of the thumbscrews, or the boot, our minds crack first. We lose our hold on our power. Then our brains are useless, so our answers can’t be trusted. Magical torture works a little longer, but their powerful mages seem to be very busy. The great mages did strip what Gift of mine they could before they left me to a lesser mage. That one got nothing from me.”
“Gods be thanked,” I murmured.
“I’d hold my thanks, were I you, sweetheart,” he said, pulling me against his chest. “I believe they’ve put us together so when they try me next, they’ll give you what they’d like to give me. That’s why they’re giving us a night together, to make it worse.” He kissed the top of my head. “If they torture you, I doubt I’d even be able to stand the first turn of the rack or the screw. And I’ve a feeling they’ll have a mage with strong truth spells, which ruins any plan to lie I could make.”
I tried to laugh. “That sounds unpleasant, I have to say.”
“We’ll think of something.” This time he held me carefully while kissing me in a most satisfying way. I returned the kiss with as much strength as I dared out of consideration for both of our lumps.
When I looked at him again there were tears in his eyes. “I thought they’d taken you off to kill you,” he said when we stopped for a breath.
“It’s all right,” I whispered. “We’re alive now. That’s what matters.”
He rested a finger on my lips. “Beka, dear one, hush. I can’t stand it. You are so brave, you’re strong—”
“Stop that,” I interrupted him, partly because I wondered how it would feel if I gave his lower lip a little nip. I’d managed some of my torture by thinking of the parts of him I wanted to kiss, and now that I had the chance, he wanted to talk!
“And you hate to hear good things about yourself, it drives me mad.” He gave me another good, long kiss, and then he said, “I’ve kept quiet because it’s been such a short time, though it seems far, far longer.”
“It does,” I said, wrapping my legs around him and trying to hoist myself so they were wrapped around his waist. That was too painful for both of us, so he sat on a bench and pulled me onto his lap. Then, with most of him around me, and me around a good bit of him, I was content to hold him. I rested my head on his shoulder and listened to his voice rumble in his chest.
“I know you just buried your betrothed,” he began, but I shook my head.
“I should have ended it months ago, when it got ugly,” I told him. “You don’t shout or hit or throw things, do you?”
“No. None of those. Well, I shout sometimes, but not at lovers. I walk my anger off. Beka, I do love you.”
I thought my heart was going to hammer itself clean out of my chest. “You’re sure, you’re certain?”
He kissed me. “I have never been more sure of anything but my Gift. Do you love me?”
I kissed his ear. “I love you,” I said to his shoulder. “Though you’re enough to drive a mot mad.”
He turned my face up to his with a gentle hand. I looked into his eyes. “But you’re like no one I’ve driven mad before,” he said with a smile that made my belly go all warm and liquid. “Either you scold me and it’s over, or you roll your eyes. Have you thought that when this is done you’ll have nothing more to do with me?”
I had thought so many things, but never that. “Why?” I asked. “I’m feared you’ll go back to Blue Harbor and that will be the end of it, but nothing more to do with you? When you make me laugh with your silliness?”
“You hardly ever laugh,” he said truthfully.
She has her own way of doing it, inside, Pounce told him. She laughs with you all the time. Not at you. With you. You have to catch her by surprise to get her to laugh out loud.
“As you would know better than anyone,” Farmer told the cat.
“It’s not just the laughing,” I explained. “You’re kind even to the lowest folk. You cook supper and shoo away bugs when plenty of mages turn their noses up at such humble stuff. I would hate to leave Corus, but if you ask it, I would.” Let’s plan for the future, I thought. Right now we still have one.
Farmer kissed me so very softly. “Don’t worry. I am not so attached to Blue Harbor. I will come with you.” To Pounce he said, “You are a welcome sight, my friend.”
I can’t spirit any of you out of here, Pounce warned him. Don’t even ask. This place, this time, is the crux. Perhaps you cannot hear all Chaos howling around us, but I can.
“I don’t want to be spirited out, and I’ll wager neither does Beka,” Farmer said. “We have work yet to do.”
