“Richard will probably want something to drink with his bread and chicken.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
The ironbound door squeaked open. Everyone looked up at the guard standing in the door, signaling for everyone to approach. He glanced down at a piece of paper. As the first woman raced up the stairs, he stopped her and asked her name. When she told him, he checked it against his list, then let her pass. The second woman he turned away. She cried out, saying she had paid for the visit. He told her that her husband had confessed to crimes of treason and was allowed no visitors.
She wailed as she fell to the ground. Everyone else watched in horror, fearing the same fate. Another woman gave her name and was sent in. Another went in, then the next was told that her husband had died.
Nicci, in a daze, started up the stairs. Kamil grabbed her arm. He put a coin in her hand.
“Thank you, Kamil.”
He nodded. “Tell Richard I said… Just tell him to come home.”
“Richard Cypher,” she answered the guard, her heart hammering.
He looked at the paper briefly, then waved her in. “That man will take you to him.”
Relief flooded through her. He was still alive.
Inside the dark hall, another soldier waited. He tilted his head in command. “Follow me.” He moved into the darkness, a lamp swinging from each hand. She stayed close behind as he descended two long flights of narrow stairs into the damp dark underground.
In a small room with a hissing torch, People’s Protector Muksin sat on a bench, sweating, as he talked to two men—minor officials, judging by their deferential treatment of the rotund Protector.
The Protector stood after briefly inspecting the paper the guard handed him. “You have the fee?”
“Yes, Protector Muksin.” Nicci handed over the coin.
He glanced at it before pocketing the silver. “Fines for civil violations are steep,” he said cryptically as his dark eyes halted to measure her reaction.
Nicci licked her lips, her hopes suddenly buoyant. She had passed the first test by paying the fee. The greedy bastard was now demanding money for Richard’s life.
Nicci spoke cautiously, fearing to make a mistake. “If I knew the fine, Protector, I believe I could raise the money.”
The Protector peered at her with an intensity that made sweat break out across her brow. “A man needs to prove his repentance. A fine that cuts to the bone is a sure way to show remorse for a civil infraction. Less, and we will know the penance insincere. Day after tomorrow, at this time, those who have confessed to such infractions and have someone who can pay the price of the fine, are brought before me for disposition.”
He had named the price: everything. He had told her what Richard had to do. She wanted to tear out the man’s fat throat.
“Thank you for your kind understanding of my husband’s civil indiscretion. If I could see him, I will see that he hurts to the bone in remorse.”
He smiled a thin sweaty smile. “See that you do, young lady. Men left too long down here with their guilt end up confessing to the most terrible things.”
Nicci swallowed. “I understand, Protector Muksin.”
The torture would not stop until the man had the price.
The guard seized her arm abruptly and yanked her off down a pitch-black corridor, holding his two lanterns in his other hand. They went down another flight of stairs, down to the very bottom of the stronghold. The narrow passageway burrowed its crooked way through the stone of the foundation, past rooms purpose-built to hold criminals. Being not far from the river, water seeped into the place, leaving it forever slimy, wet, and reeking of rot. She saw things skitter away into the blackness.
The sound of their feet splashing through ankle-deep water echoed back from the distance. Decomposing carcasses of huge rats bobbed on the waves caused by their passing footsteps. The place reminded Nicci of her childhood nightmares of the underworld, a fate her mother had promised awaited all those who failed in their duty to their fellow man.
The short doors to the sides each had a small opening about the size of a hand—so that the guards could look in, she supposed. There was no light at all but what the guards brought, so there was nothing for those inside to look out at. In several of those doors, fingers gripped the edge of the opening. As the lamplight passed, Nicci saw wide eyes peering out from the black holes. From many of the openings came weeping of anguish, or agony.
The guard stopped. “Here it is.”
Her heart beating wildly, Nicci waited. Instead of opening the door, the guard turned to her and grabbed her breasts. She stood motionless, fearing to move. He fondled her, as if he were testing melons in the market. She was too afraid to say anything, lest he not let her see Richard. He pressed closer to her and pushed his meaty hand down inside the top of her dress, fingering her nipples.
Nicci knew that men like this were necessary if the Order was to bring their teachings to all. You had to accept that the nature of mankind was perverted. There had to be sacrifices. Brutes were necessary to enforce morality on the masses. She stifled a yelp as he pinched her tender flesh.
The guard chuckled, pleased with his grope, and turned to the door. After some difficulty with the rusty lock, he finally got the key to turn. He grasped the door through the opening and gave a mighty tug. The door slowly grated open just enough to get by. The guard hung a lantern just inside on the wall.
“After I’ve seen to some other matters, I’ll be back and your visit will be over.” He chortled again. “Don’t waste any time getting your skirts up for him—if he’s in any condition for it.”
He shoved her in the room. “Here you go, Cypher. I got her nice and randy for you.” The door shut with a clang that echoed up and down the crooked passageway. Nicci heard the key turn and the guard’s sloshing footsteps as he departed.
The square room was so tiny she could have stretched her arms and touched the walls to each side at the same time. The ceiling brushed the top of her head. She was overwhelmed by the terrifying closeness of it. She wanted out.
She feared the body crumpled at her feet was dead.
“Richard?”
She heard a little groan. His arms were behind his back, locked in some kind of wooden binders. She feared he might drown.
Tears stung her eyes. She sank to her knees. The slimy water that had sloshed into her boots now soaked up through her dress.
“Richard?”
She pulled at his shoulder to turn him over. He cried out and shrank away from her hand.
When she saw him, she covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her scream. She felt the tears flooding down her face as she gasped to get her breath.
“Oh, Richard.”
Nicci stood and tore off a strip of her shift from under her dress. Kneeling once more, she used the cloth to gently wipe the blood from his face.
“Richard, can you hear me? It’s Nicci.”
He nodded. “Nicci.”
One eye was swollen shut. His hair was matted with mud and slime from the water he lay in. His clothes were torn open. In the harsh light from the small lamp, she could see puffy red wounds crisscrossing his flesh.
He saw her staring at his wounds. “I’m afraid you’ll never be able to patch this shirt.”
She offered a feeble smile at his grim humor. Her fingers trembled as she wiped his face. She didn’t know why she would react this way. She had seen worse than this.
Richard pulled his head back away from her ministrations.
“Am I hurting you?”
“Yes.”
“Sorry. I have some water.”
He nodded eagerly. Nicci poured water into his mouth from the waterskin. He drank greedily.
While he caught his breath, she said, “Kamil came up with the money for the fee to get me in to see you.”
Richard only smiled.
“Kamil wants you out of here.”
“I want me out of here.” He didn’t sound
like himself. His voice was hoarse and almost gone.
“Richard, the Protector—”
“Who?”
“The official in charge of this, this prison. He told me that there is a way to get you out. He said you must plead guilty to a civil infraction, and pay a fine.”
Richard was nodding. “I figured as much. He asked if I had money. I told him I did.”
“You do? You’ve saved money?”
He nodded. “I have money.”
Nicci’s fingers desperately gathered his collar into her fist. “Richard, I can’t pay the fine to get you out for two more days. Can you hold on? Please, can you hold on until then?”
He smiled in the dim lamplight. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Nicci remembered then, and pulled the bread out of the sack. “I brought food. Bread, and some roasted chicken.”
“Chicken. Bread won’t sustain me long. They don’t feed me.”
She tore at the chicken with her fingers. She held a piece up to his mouth for him. She couldn’t stand to see Richard helpless. It angered her. It made her sick.
“Eat, Richard,” she urged when his head sank forward. He shook his head, as if to banish sleep. “Here, have some more.”
She watched him chew. “Can you sleep in this water?”
“They don’t let you sleep. They—”
She pushed a long chunk of chicken in his mouth. She knew too many of the details of the Order’s methods. She didn’t want to know which technique they had chosen for him.
“I’ll get you out, Richard. Don’t give up. I’ll get you out.”
He shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter.
“Why? Covetous of your prisoner? Jealous to see others abuse me in your place? Fear they might destroy me before you can?”
“Richard, that’s not—”
“I am just a man. Only the greater good matters. That I’m innocent is immaterial, because no one man’s life has value. If I must suffer and die this way to help drive others to the ways of your Creator and your Order, who are you to deny them that virtuous end? What do your wishes matter? How can you put your life, or mine, above the good of others?”
How many times had she lectured him with that same moral doctrine? How contemptuous, how venomous, how treacherous it sounded from his lips.
She hated herself at that moment. He somehow put the lie to everything the Order stood for, to everything she had devoted her life to. He somehow made doing good seem…evil. That was why he was so dangerous. That he even existed threatened everything for which they stood.
She was so close. So close to knowing what she needed to understand. The very fact that there were tears running down her face told her that there really was something that made the whole ordeal worthwhile—made it essential. The indefinable spark she had seen in his eyes from the first instant was real.
If she could just reach that little bit more, then she could finally do what was best. It would be better for him. What kind of life could he ever have? How much suffering could he endure? She hated that she was condemned to serving the Creator in such a way.
“Look around, Nicci. You wanted to show me the better way of the Order. Look around. Isn’t it glorious?”
She hated to see one of his beautiful eyes swollen shut.
“Richard, I need the money you saved. If I’m to get you out of here, I’ll need it all. The official told me it had to be all of what you had.”
A hoarse whisper was all he had left. “It’s in our room.”
“Our room? Where? Tell me where.”
He shook his head. “You could never get it out. You have to know the trick to open it. Go to Ishaq.”
“Ishaq? At the transport company? Why?”
“It was his parlor, once. There’s a hidden compartment in the floor. Tell him why you need the money. He will open it for you.”
She held more chicken up to his mouth. “All right. I’ll go to Ishaq.” She hesitated while she watched him chew. “I’m sorry that you have to give up what you’ve managed to save. I know how hard you work. It’s not right for them to take it.”
He shrugged again. “Just money. I’d rather live.”
Nicci smiled and wiped the tears from her cheeks. That was the best thing she could have hoped to hear.
The door opened. “Pull your skirt down, woman. Time’s up.”
As he dragged her out by her arm, she stuffed the last of the chicken in Richard’s mouth.
“Civil infraction!” she called to him. “Don’t forget!”
He had to confess to a civil infraction that could be paid with a fine. Then they would release him. Any other crime was death.
“I won’t forget.”
She reached back toward him as she was pulled from the tiny cell. “I’ll be back for you, Richard! I swear!”
Chapter 56
Nicci paced as Ishaq bent over the trapdoor in the corner of the room. He had been at it a long time. He had pushed the wardrobe aside to get at the secret place in the floor. Occasionally he muttered under his breath, cursing himself for having made it so difficult to get into.
“At last!” Ishaq scrambled to his feet.
Nicci hoped that the meager money Richard could have managed to save would be enough to satisfy Protector Muksin. In her head, she was going through a list of people who had offered money to help Richard.
Ishaq scurried close. “Here it is.”
He hurriedly placed the leather purse in her hand. The weight shocked her. The purse filled her palm. It didn’t make sense. She realized Richard must have put some metal items in with his savings—that would account for the weight. She pulled open the top and dumped the contents in her palm.
Nicci gasped. There were close to two dozen gold marks. There wasn’t any silver. It was all gold.
“Dear Creator…” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Where would Richard get all this money?”
It was more money than most wealthy men saw in their lifetime. She looked up into Ishaq’s eyes.
“Where would Richard get all this money?”
He swept his red hat off his head. He waved impatiently at all the gold lying in her palm. “Richard earned it.”
She felt her frown darkening. “Earned it? How? No one man could earn this much money—not honestly, anyway.” She felt her anger building. “Richard stole this gold, didn’t he?”
“Don’t be silly.” Ishaq gestured irritably. “Richard earned it. He bought and sold goods.”
She gritted her teeth. “How did he get this money?”
The man flung up his hands. “I’m telling you. He earned it himself—all by himself. He bought things, and sold them to people who needed them.”
“Things? What kind of things? Contraband?”
“No! Things like iron and steel—”
“Nonsense. How would he move it? Carry it on his back?”
“At first. But then he bought a wagon to—”
“A wagon!”
“Yes. And horses. He bought charcoal and ore and sold them to the foundries. Mostly, he bought metal from the foundry, and sold it to the blacksmith. The blacksmith uses a great deal of metal. He bought it from Richard. That was how he earned the money.”
Nicci seized the man’s collar at his throat. “Take me to this blacksmith.”
Nicci was furious. All this time, she had thought Richard an honest hardworking man, and now she had discovered that he was imprisoned properly. He was guilty of swindling honest working people out of their money. He was profiteering.
At that moment, she was not sorry at all for what they were doing to him in the prison. He deserved it all, and more. He was a criminal, cheating honest hardworking people out of gold. She burned with humiliation, knowing she had been deceived by him.
Nicci had seen the site of the palace before, but at a distance as she went about her business in the city. She had never been this close. It was going to be everything Jagang said it would be. It filled her with awe. All the inspi
ring words of Brother Narev from her youth were like a sacred choir singing from the depths of her memories as she looked upon the sweep of scenes being erected.
The walls were already up over the openings for the windows on the first floor. In some sections, beams were being laid, spanning the interior walls, to support the next story.
But it was the outside which took her breath. The stone walls were banded with carvings on a scale she had never imagined. Just as Brother Narev would have directed, the carvings were inspirational, and convincing. Nicci saw people gazing upon the scenes, weeping at the events recounted in stone, weeping at the depiction of the miserable creature that was man, and the unattainable glory that was the perfection of the Creator. With such moving visions, there could be no doubt that the Order was mankind’s only hope of salvation. Just as Jagang had said, this would be a palace to stir the people with overpowering emotion.
“Why are those poles there?” she asked Ishaq as they marched along the wide cobbled path where people stood and watched the construction, while others knelt and prayed at various horrific scenes depicted on the walls.
“Carvers.” Ishaq removed his red hat as he looked at the sight. “It was said they took part in the revolt.”
Nicci’s gaze passed among the rotting corpses hanging at the tops of the poles. “Why would the carvers take part in the revolt? They have work.” More than that, they were working on the scenes of the glory of the Order. They, of all people, should have known how their only hope of reward in the next world required suffering in this.
“I did not say they took part. I said that it was said that they took part.”
Nicci didn’t correct the man. All men were corrupt. There wasn’t a man who could not be put to death without it being justified. That included Richard.
Many of the stones under protective roofs where men had worked now sat idle. Ramps were constructed, along with scaffolding, for the masons to work on the palace walls. As they placed their stone, other men, slave labor, worked at hauling huge blocks up the ramps to them, carried baskets of mortar or dirt and rock, or worked in trenches building the underground cells where the Order would purge the world of the worst sinners and where criminals would confess their crimes.
Faith of the Fallen Page 70
