Mary grabbed Myrtlebell's hand with a yank and headed into the alleys of the vassalage. “Hurry,” she said. “It would be a shame if your sister took such a dangerous risk for nothing.” She walked as fast as possible, here and there breaking into a run when they saw no one about, as the alleys changed into lanes, reaching out between the orchards and fields into the marshy countryside. “And,” she added, planting her feet and shaking a finger in Myrtlebell's face, “don't you dare go on about the lives of those poor misguided, and I might add, hideously cruel guards! If they hang, the Beaks did it. Not you. Not me, my dear. Now hike your skirts and run 'til we no longer can.”
Myrtlebell nodded and did as she was told, boundlessly grateful that Mary was in charge.
Chapter 69
“Please Mistress, wake up,” whispered the dank air about Demonica's face. She jerked awake, struggling to open her swollen eyelids against the jailers' venom in her veins. Her Cias! “Good!” she thought, widening her sticky eyes to see a whirling world as she propped up on her arms. “Ohh!” she cried, catching her head before it fell to the floor. Her eyes burnt. Links of chain rattled in the straw as she shifted aside one of her hands.
“Good!” she squawked through her fetid gag with a simmering fury that startled the Cias to the far corners of her cell. Her Cias would free her. And how, oh how, the Beaks would pay!
Devi hovered close to her face, glancing back disdainfully at Oana and Mael, still floating amongst the cobwebs. He circled Demonica expectantly. He was ready for her to use her powers to free herself, and he wanted the choicest assignment. Minute after minute went by as her eyes glazed over and went closed, her ears propped upon her shoulders.
As he studied her, still trussed up like a pig on a spit, Oana and Mael moved close for a look.
Suddenly her eyes were open and aflame with rage, huffing and growling past the rag and bleeding splits in her mouth as she thrashed against her chains.
They darted back at once and he became convinced that something had happened to her magic.
Devi entered her mind, even though she had not given him leave to do so. To his astonishment, Oana and Mael followed him in, afraid that he would gain a higher place in her favor.
“No matter,” he thought, as he concentrated on finding out what she wanted them to do.
“Find a jailer and take over his body, you fools!” thought Demonica with a fury like heaving an anvil into a wagon.
“Impossible!” wailed Oana and Mael in a chorus that could be heard outside her tender skull. “It has always been forbidden for Cias to forcibly enter any corporeal being, particularly to force him to do something against his will. You know that,” they cried, suddenly making the dungeon echo as they fled her head and cowered amongst the spider webs.
“I'm on my way, mistress,” said Devi quietly, as he took leave of her. He flung a look of contempt at his companions and vanished. “Fools is right,” he thought. “Let them deal with her wrath.” Quick as an arrow, he flew the length of the dungeon corridor to find the turnkey addressing a prisoner through the bars of his door. He hovered for a moment, watching.
“Hey!” called the turnkey, as the prisoner within rose to his feet. “MeqqWirrp! Got something here from your wife, from Mistress MeqqWirrp. She baked you ones a cake...”
“Oh yes! Oh thank you...!” came the voice behind the trembling fingers reaching between the bars.
“'Course for your safety and well being I've got to check it,” said the turnkey as he took a bite. “Might be poisoned, you know...or a file. You might hurt yourself on a file baked in it, don't you know.” He began wolfing down the rest of the cake, over the shouts of despair within which quickly turned to sobs. He wiped his bristly mouth and slapped his knee in a seizure of laughter.
At this, Devi entered the turnkey and took control of him. He found it a heady experience. As he overpowered the last particle of the man's frantic resistance, he found he could feel the man's body around him as though it were his. It was quite unlike his fleeting invasion of Demonica. He had not attempted to control her in any way at all. He wondered why his race had ever given up physical form. For a moment he forgot all about Demonica as he walked up and down the corridor, stretching his arms and legs and feeling at himself. “Did the Cias realize too late what a mistake they'd made?” he said, as he ran his hands along the stones in the wall. “Does this have something to do with why taking possession of bodies is the one thing utterly forbidden by the Exalted Council of Thought? Are they afraid of us finding out what this is like?” his mind reeled at the possibilities. He needed time to consider. “Demonica,” he said. “I'd better get back there.”
He walked for a spell, lost in the sensations of the very act of walking. “You seem not to have the brains to even begin to appreciate what you're doing when you do this, you idiot Beak... Eternity. Hey. Not even Demonica's got that, for all her own magical longevity.
Cias do have eternity.” A giddy sense of power surged through him as he steered his hapless turnkey toward Demonica's cell.
“This has such potential,” thought Devi with a smile on the turnkey's face, as he unlocked Demonica's cell. “Of course she knows I'm inside this chump, but it could be right dangerous for me to let her in on what I'm discovering. In her state she's not likely to pay it any heed at all. She just wants free. I've got time to spare, after all. I'll just continue to follow along...for now.” He flung a smug glance at Oana and Mael, still hovering horrified at his act of body possession, as he knelt beside Demonica. “Fools,” he thought, as he gently peeled the tacky gag from Demonica's mouth and unlocked her shackles. “No matter. No time for their squeamish lot.”
Demonica rolled forward in a boneless heap, as Devi kept her head from hitting the stone floor. “Help me up you oaf!” she hissed as her eyes came open. “We have to get out of here and find Spitemorta and the Staff before we're discovered.”
“So I was right about her lack of magic,” thought Devi with wide turnkey eyes as he scurried to his feet and helped her onto to hers. “So what happens if her powers don't return?”
“Well don't just stand there, fool,” said Demonica, leaning on him as she reeled.
“Get this blue carcass of yours moving.”
“As you command, mistress,” said Devi, as he helped her out of her cell and down the foul corridor to find Spitemorta. After leading her for a piece, splashing through the bobbing excrement in the middle of the hallway, she shoved away from him in disgust and staggered along on her own where it was dryer next to the wall.
They found Spitemorta still blindfolded and trussed up, but they could tell that she was awake and expecting another dart of poison.
“Hurry,” hissed Demonica. “Unshackle her while I undo that rag in her mouth.”
Before long they were helping Spitemorta onto her feet as she massaged her face and hands.
“Don't be concerned about Blueboy, here,” said Demonica. “He's on our side. I'll explain later. We need to get out of here and recover the Staff.”
Spitemorta nodded as she found her way into a tottering stand.
“Search Blueboy's miserable mind, if he has one,” snapped Demonica as she turned to look for Devi within the turnkey's eyes, “and see if he knows what happened to Spitemorta's staff.”
“As you wish, mistress,” said Devi, feeling oddly violated. He didn't like the idea of her catching onto anything. “She probably hasn't,” he thought, as he set upon Blueboy's quailing consciousness.
“Bramm hep trouz na c'hwezh a zo labour difrouez, Kaoc'h ki glas,” he said. “It's pointless, Blueboy. I'm in charge as long as I'm in here. Wherever you go I've still got you. So, Knapdarloch, to use a Beak term for you, you fancy that I'm a demon from the Pit of Fire, aye? Well, you're right. And I'm here to kill you from the inside out if you don't let me see where you have everything you know about Spitmorta's Great Staff. So? Come on! Where's Spitemorta's staff?”
Blueboy froze up, seeing that Devi didn't already have
access to what he knew.
Devi was entirely out of patience. He furiously denied Blueboy about a half dozen beats of his heart. Blueboy gave out an apoplectic gasp and staggered, grabbing at his chest. Just as Devi felt a wave of alarm at the thought that he might be doing in himself by throttling Blueboy, he suddenly found himself with everything that the turnkey knew about the Staff.
“The Old One has it in his tower!” cried Devi through Blueboy's mouth as he got hold of an image of the very room where it was and the way there from the dungeon. “Very well, Knapdarloch,” he said to Blueboy. “Right wise of you. You just might live through this after all, unless you so much as hesitate by closing off anything at all from me, ever again.”
“So who the blazes is 'the Old One?'“ said Demonica with a pounce. “Where's the Staff?”
“It's the old Beak mage,” said Devi. “He has it in his tower. I know the way. I can take you right to it.” He saw Demonica's mouth go white with a twist of satisfied resolve. Spitemorta reminded him of a petard that had just sucked in its burning fuse in its final moment before explosion. “So,” he thought, as he diverted his eyes from her dangerous glances, “does one reckon she still has her powers?” He turned away from her at once to lead the way.
“Wait,” said Demonica. “You'd better bind our hands so that we look like your prisoners. We'll be stopped for certain if you don't.”
“Very well,” said Devi, casting about, “but all I see to use are one set of shackles for the wrists and that awful gag rag. Those leg irons are 'way too big for wrists. You'd have to work to keep them on and they just might not look right. I could dash back to your cell, mistress, for...”
“You'd better be the fastest that Blueboy's ever been.”
He thumped his chest, Beak fashion and closed their door. “That door will be blown off its hinges when I get back, by the look in Spitemorta's eyes. I swear she'd like to turn me into a toad or something worse while she's at it,” he thought as he dashed off down the corridor.
He was back in short order, rattling chains and jingling keys as he opened their door.
“Good,” said Demonica as she turned to Oana and Mael. “Now, you two can finally make yourselves useful and scout ahead. Devi, tell them the way.”
Devi nodded and relayed what Blueboy had in his head as he laid out the shackles on the floor to untangle their chains.
Oana and Mael sped off like shots, returning shortly.
“Mistress,” said Mael, startling everyone, “the old one is asleep and most of the tower guards appear to be somewhere else.”
“Odd,” said Demonica, “but likely to our advantage.” She nodded to Spitemorta and Devi. “Let's go.”
“I trust you realize it'll be you who has to do in any Beak we run into who doubts us in the least, Devi,” said Demonica, tugging on his sleeve.
Devi flashed a fierce grin. Oana and Mael hissed their disapproval and drew away.
“One would think you two are cowards,” spat Demonica as she followed their receding ripples. “Go to the old mage's tower and wait for us so I don't have to see any more of that.” She turned back to Devi and Spitemorta. “Let's go!” she barked as she stepped forth with Spitemorta at her side.
As Devi fell in close behind with his small rapier drawn for appearance's sake, it occurred to him that if both Demonica and Spitemorta had lost their powers, they were actually at his mercy. It was a heady thought, but such thoughts were premature and quite rash, particularly since their magic could return at any time. “Best be careful,” he thought. “Best be patient. There's always later.”
Round a corner they found themselves face to face with a small band of soldiers who halted immediately. “Kurun!” thought Devi. “They've got claymores longer than they're tall, and you, Blueboy, for all your sadistic bluster, are deathly afraid of swordfights. So, this one stepping forth is known to you as Captain Girom, and he commands you, aye?”
He ordered Demonica and Spitemorta to stand still as he came to a rigid halt and thumped his chest.
“Where are you taking these witches, Yeoman MeqqArccis? This is sudden. Is the execution to take place even though we've not yet recaptured the White Witch?”
“Not yet, Captain, sir,” said Devi, seeing how it all was as relief flooded through him. “King Talorg himself commanded me to remove these she-devils to Mage Cinid's tower for safekeeping until the White Witch is retaken. He fears that she might divine an escape if they're left in the dungeon.”
“You idiot, MeqqArccis,” said the captain, throwing back his head for a laugh. “You do one poor impersonation of somebody from Head. You're funnier teasing prisoners. Very well. Carry on then, but don't forget that these stinking runks are dangerous. And on that note, I say better to increase the prison guard than to trust the likes of them to that crazy old fool in the tower.”
“Agreed, Captain, but I was certainly in no position to question the king himself.”
“Be on with it then,” growled the captain as he turned aside with a murderous look and spat at Demonica and Spitemorta's feet before tramping away with his men.
“I swear I'll have that worm's head on a pike someday,” hissed Spitemorta.
“Oh, absolutely, dear,” said Demonica, “but first we will take a very long time showing him the error of his ways before his head comes loose.” She glanced at Devi. “How much further to the tower, Blueboy?”
“The staircase to the top is right around that corner, down at the end, there.”
“Good. Let's move it then.”
In short order they were climbing the spiraling stairs. It was a very long climb and Demonica and Spitemorta had to stop and rest often. Devi took great pains not to let his impatience show. Impatience would give away his new sense of independence. At long last they stood in front of Mage Cinid's door.
“Undo our shackles,” said Demonica, “and be right quick about it.”
Devi did as he was told.
Demonica rubbed her wrists and motioned for Spitemorta and him to keep quiet as she tried the door. It was locked. She shooed them back down the steps for a short way, keeping her finger to her lips. “Give me the sword,” she said as she brought them to a halt.
Devi gave it to her.
“Now Devi, you must take leave of Blueboy,” she said. “I need you to go into the mage's chamber and take control of him. Then get the Staff and come unlock the door. I'll take care of this piece of dung. Now go.” And without hesitation she ran the rapier clean through Blueboy.
Devi saw the point coming and broke out, just as Blueboy doubled over. “Impatient witch!” he thought, as he hovered, getting hold of himself. “What if I hadn't got out? Would I be dead?” He shot up the stairs and through the door to find the old mage, Great Staff in hand, staring at Oana and Mael as if he saw them quite plainly while they trembled with fear in a corner. How had he never noticed what spineless imbeciles they were?
Oana and Mael sensed his presence and turned toward him, alerting the old mage.
The old man was lightning fast, but Devi was still faster. He slid into the old man's mind before he could use the Staff or utter a word. However, the old man's mind was a cunning and vital adversary, outfoxing Devi at every turn.
“I'm a demon from the Pit of Fire,” said Devi. “I'll kill you if you don't bend to my will.”
“In a pig's eye,” said Mage. “You're a renegade Cia from the Dark Continent, just like your skulking chums in the corner. It is I who will kill you.”
With Mage giving full attention to guarding his mind, Devi found his heart and stopped it.
“Ha!” said Mage. “I've lived through these! And if You kill me, you'll die too.”
Suddenly Mage stumbled against a bench and fell, striking his head. At once Devi seized control of everything. When at last Mage stood up, Devi was piloting. He hurried to unlock the door for Demonica and Spitemorta.
As soon as were they inside, Spitemorta snatched the Staff from his hand.
Devi sti
fled a protest just in time to see her raise the Staff and point it at him. At once he exploded from Mage. Mage froze, glowing with a brilliant purple aura before collapsing into a pile of cinders at Spitemorta's feet.
“Screeching kiez!” thought Devi. “She could have killed me if I hadn't seen it coming. Not a word of warning. Boull c'hurun! I've done favors for her, even if I was serving Demonica when I did.” He turned to Demonica expecting to see her scold Spitemorta for her recklessness, only to see her gloating with satisfaction while Spitemorta bounced with glee.
Devi fought down his anger since he knew he dare not let Demonica see it. “No, not today,” he thought. “Later, perhaps. Yes, when I know more. I already know more than she. I was in the Heart when Razzmorten put it in his robe, so I know where it is. No one but a Cia could ever go inside it, and I must be the only one who has. Could I be the only one who knows that it stores the First Wizard's knowledge? Is it possible that I'm the only one alive who knows that it is even more powerful than the Staff, all by itself? I must find out, but one thing's certain: she doesn't know any of this.” And he was no longer about to tell her, for he had his own plans for the Heart.
Spitemorta ran her hand reverently along the Staff. “I say we go find that mochyn drewllyd, Brude Talorg,” she snarled, turning aside to share the fire in her eyes with Demonica, “and teach him about abusing and imprisoning the powerful.”
“I'd be delighted,” said Demonica with a hateful sparkle in her eyes. “But just now finding the Heart takes priority over everything else. We need to get to the dungeon and find the goody-goody girl and make her beg to tell us where it is.”
“You're right Grandmother,” she said with a sudden radiant look. “Sometimes you're absolutely right. Having Myrtlebell by the hair really would beat cutting up Talorg. But I do want to get him, too.”
“Oh, yes,” said Demonica buoyantly, as she swept grandly into the staircase. “But do not despair, dear, for Talorg's time will come. Once we have the Heart we can devise at our leisure the perfect demise for him and all of his heathen brethren.”
Heart of the Staff - Complete Series Page 76
