Honus risked the climb. When he descended nearly twice his height, his feet touched a ledge. It was reasonably flat and just large enough for two. It had been difficult to reach in the dark, but it would be easier by daylight. When he peered over the ledge, all he could see was the white foam of breakers far below. He called up to Yim to toss down his pack and hers. After she did, she whispered loudly, “Now should I throw myself down?”
“I was hoping you’d climb down, but I’ll try to catch you if you fall.”
“Try? That doesn’t sound encouraging.”
“Then don’t fall.”
“Since you put it that way, maybe I won’t.”
Yim slowly climbed down the crevice, nearly slipping twice. When she reached Honus, she let out a deep sigh of relief. “Well, this is cozy!”
“We’ve slept in worst places,” said Honus.
“Better ones, too. But I won’t complain. We’ve made it this far.”
They spent the remainder of the night attempting to sleep sitting up. Aided by exhaustion, they managed. When the sun rose, they peeked around the edge of their hiding place and discovered it afforded a good view of the palace’s seaward side. The view was equally impressive by daylight. The head of the bay was a high vertical wall of basalt towering over a jumble of massive boulders. Waves made the huge black stones glisten while providing white foam for contrast. Steps had been chiseled into the opposite side of the bay. They led to the wave-washed boulders and provided a sense of scale. A man standing on one of the boulders would appear like an ant on a walnut.
The palace both matched and merged with its grand location. Its black walls seemed an extension of the cliff they crowned, although Honus noted that there was a narrow ledge between the palace’s rear wall and the sheer drop to the boulders far below. There was a huge, steep-roofed building that butted against the wall. Judging from its numerous seaward-facing windows and balconies, Honus assumed it was Bahl’s residence. A tower was also built into the rear wall. It was the tallest in the palace, yet it didn’t seem a watchtower, for it was windowless and its top tapered to a flat deck that lacked crenellations.
Honus’s primary interest in the palace was tactical, not architectural. He watched all morning and could discern few signs that it actually functioned as a fortress. Its size, location, and massive walls made it unassailable by any army in the empire or any nearby realm he knew. Honus saw no guards pacing the palace walls or peering from the watchtowers and concluded they were unnecessary. He supposed the palace functioned more as an armory, garrison, and residence than as a stronghold that required an active defense.
Although Honus saw no guards, he did see plenty of activity. An iron-plated building on a seacoast needed constant maintenance, and men were busy brushing blackened oil on its sides. It seemed to be an ongoing project, for Honus noted that rings were set into the top of the walls to aid the oiling. Ropes were threaded through the rings to allow a man standing on the ground to lift another up to oil the walls. The towers had a similar arrangement. Honus watched as more than a dozen men maneuvered about as agilely as spiders dangling from strands of silk.
Late in the afternoon, Honus climbed out of the crevice and crawled through the grass for a closer look at the palace. Nothing contradicted his earlier conclusions. He still could see no sentries. No patrols, either mounted or on foot, scouted for trespassers. No soldiers checked the oilers or supervised them. After the sun set, Honus ventured forth in the dark for an even closer look, intending to circle the entire fortress. He discovered there was only one gate and it was massive. He guessed that the gate house would be well guarded, since it was the sole entrance. There seemed no other way into the palace. As far as he and Yim were concerned, Yim’s son could have taken up residence on the moon.
Honus finished his inspection of the palace by walking the narrow ledge between its rear wall and the cliff. He hurried, because he wanted to be hidden before moonrise. He also knew that Yim would be worried about him. He was past the midpoint of the wall when he made a discovery: the oilers had left a rope in place. Both ends of a black, oily rope dangled side by side. I could pull Yim up and climb up after her, he thought. Climbing would be tricky, but not impossible. In order for him to ascend the rope, Yim would need to tie it to the ring so it wouldn’t slip.
As soon as Honus made his discovery, he considered not telling Yim about it. He hadn’t expected events to move so quickly, and he felt unready. Yet the oilers would undoubtedly find the rope in the morning and remove it. This might be our only chance for a long time. Honus decided he couldn’t hold back: he would tell Yim about the rope and let her decide what to do.
Yim had begun worrying the moment Honus climbed out of their hiding place to perform his reconnaissance. She knew that he didn’t intend to return until well after dark, but knowing his plans didn’t ease her anxiety. She envisioned him being discovered and slain, and the thought made her heartsick. She couldn’t shake the image from her mind, and as time passed, it seemed ever more probable. Why did I let him come with me? She berated herself for her selfishness.
It was long past sunset when she heard a soft voice from above. “Yim.”
Yim’s heart leapt. “Honus, are you all right?”
“Yes. I found a way into the palace, but we’ll have to use it tonight. Do you want to?”
No, thought Yim. “Yes,” she said.
“Then climb up with all you need to bring. We’ll leave the packs in the crevice.”
Yim removed her cloak and positioned the comb in her hair so that her outer locks hid it. Those were her sole preparations. “Ready,” she whispered. “Coming up.”
Once she stood on the cliff edge, Honus told her about the rope. “After I pull you up the wall, you’ll have to tie the rope off so I can climb up after you. Do you know how to tie a double loop?”
“Of course.”
Then they were off. It seemed so fast. I might see Froan before sunrise! The prospect filled her with both anticipation and dread. They made their way to the palace wall and the dangling rope. There, the air was heavy with the scent of oil despite an ocean breeze. The odor turned Yim’s stomach and caused each breath to irritate her throat and lungs.
To fight her queasiness, Yim turned her attention to the rope. At one end, it was tied to form a large loop that passed through holes in the ends of a rectangular piece of wood. The wood formed a seat like that on a child’s swing. Like the rope, the seat was black and oily. Yim had watched the oilers and noted that they secured themselves to the ropes on either side of the seat with a leather harness. That safety item was missing. Nonetheless, she sat on the piece of wood and grabbed the ropes. “Pull me up, Honus.”
Yim knew from observing the oilers that she would have to use her feet to keep from being scraped against the wall as she rose. The oilers had made it look as easy as walking. Yim discovered it wasn’t. She found herself sliding about on the slippery seat, which tended to pivot forward and backward, and clinging to the ropes so hard that she began to fear her arms might cramp. Several times, she nearly slipped off the seat to go tumbling into the void below.
Yim didn’t dare look down, only up. When she finally neared the top of the wall, she saw a major obstacle ahead. The rope passed through a large metal ring at the edge of the wall and the knot that formed the loop would not pass through it. The seat would halt too far below the wall’s top edge for her to reach it. Soon after she had that realization, the knot hit the ring and she stopped moving.
The only way you can climb over the wall is by standing on the seat, Yim thought. She wondered if Honus realized that. She would get only one attempt to stand, and if he moved the rope, she’d surely fall. The seat was oily. Her hands were oily. The wall was oily. Nevertheless, she had to try to stand. She pulled her feet up toward the forward edge of the wooden seat. Then, shifting her grip on the ropes as high as she could, Yim pulled her torso upward until she could place her feet on the wood. Once she did that, she moved one hand a
t a time to ever-higher grips on the rope. Simultaneously, she slowly unbent her knees. Each movement caused her footing on the slippery and teetering seat to shift.
Yim could feel her heart pounding when she touched the ring and grasped it. Then she rose to fully stand. Holding the ring with her left hand for balance, she reached with her right for the inside edge of the wall. She was forced to extend her arm full length before she touched it. Fortunately it was rough stone, not oiled iron. Yim released the ring so she could grip the wall’s inner edge with two hands and pull herself over the top. As she pulled, there was a frightening moment when her feet dangled in empty air. Then, for once, the iron’s oiliness was helpful, and she slid over the wall’s top easily to tumble onto a wide, stone walkway. She looked about to see if anyone had spotted her, but the walkway was deserted.
Yim slumped down and started shaking. Honus must have understood that she had made it, for she could hear the rope sliding through the ring as he lowered the seat. By the time the sound stopped, Yim had calmed her nerves. Honus needed her to secure the rope so he could climb it. As Yim leaned toward the ring that held the rope, she took out the knife she used to slice Cara’s sausages. It sliced through rope equally well. As the rope’s cut halves fell away, Yim whispered, “Thank you, my love. Keep safe till I return.” Then she removed her sandals, the soles of which were smeared with sooty oil, and threw them to the rocks below. She used the hem of her skirt to wipe away what prints the sandals had left, doing it more by feel than sight. Then Yim went to find her son.
FIFTY-FOUR
AS SOON as the two lengths of rope started falling, Honus knew something was wrong. He jumped out of their way as they rapidly formed two piles of loose coils on the ledge. At first, he was gripped by the gut-wrenching fear that Yim had been caught and she would soon come sailing over the wall, either already slain or doomed to splatter on the rocks below. He waited in agony, but no body fell.
However, things did fall. Honus caught a brief glimpse of two small objects that had been thrown from above. He couldn’t tell what they were. He continued to wait for a cry or some other indication of what had happened. While he did, he felt the severed ends of the rope. They had been cut. By whom? It occurred to him that Yim might have cut them herself. The reason seemed obvious—to keep him safe. Honus recalled saying that once they had found her son, the rest was up to her. Thinking on that, he regretted his choice of words.
Although Honus had no definite proof that Yim had abandoned him, the other possibilities were far worse. Therefore, he chose to believe the most optimistic scenario for the time being. He found little comfort in it. In fact, he was furious that she would endanger herself for his sake. Simultaneously, he was dreadfully afraid for her. The thought of Yim alone in that evil place tore at him, and it was frustrating to be so helpless.
For a long while, Honus waited in the dark, listening and watching. The tumult in his mind permitted him to do little else. Finally, his self-discipline asserted itself. Concluding that he would discover nothing further, he decided that he should return to the hiding place. The only thing he could do to help Yim at present was to throw the severed rope over the cliff so it wouldn’t be discovered. Later, when he was hidden from enemy eyes, he could ponder her actions, her chances, and what to do next.
After Yim cleaned her oily sandal prints away, she crept noiselessly toward the huge building. She assumed that she would be able to enter it from the walkway, and her assumption proved right. There were five large doors facing the sea, and the central one was unlocked and open. Yim gazed up at the building’s seaward facade, trying to guess where Froan’s bedroom would be. His father had the highest room in the captured stronghold, she thought, and it’s likely Froan’s living in his father’s quarters. She decided to head for the top floor. It was a logical destination, but still only a guess. Froan could be anywhere.
Yim paused before entering the doorway, and reviewed what she would say if she found her son. She counted on the shock of her sudden appearance to get his attention. She imagined that he’d listen to her for curiosity’s sake if nothing else. I’ll begin by talking about “his shadow,” she thought, his shadow and mine. Then I’ll show how he can control it. After that, I’ll go by instinct. Despite pondering her plan for moons, it hadn’t really changed since she had left the Grey Fens.
Yim peered in the open doorway. The room beyond it was unlit. Being constructed of black stone, its features were difficult to discern. She stared long and hard before she thought that she saw an archway at its far side and stairs going to the upper floors. Feeling her way with bare feet, she advancing into the room.
She was midway across it when she heard doors slam and was plunged into absolute darkness. There were the sounds of soft-soled footsteps, and then Yim felt hands on her body. There were too many hands to count, and though they were groping in the dark, their own ers seemed to know what they were doing. Almost instantly, Yim’s arms were seized. A hand touched her face and then her nose before sliding over her mouth to cover it just as she was about to shout. Hands discovered her legs and traveled down them to grip her ankles.
A voice spoke. “Do you have her?”
Many voices answered, “Aye.”
Yim heard the inner door being opened. A voice called, “Bring light!” Soon the stairway reflected torchlight. A moment later, Yim saw the torchbearers descend the stairs. They wore the robes of the Devourer’s priests. When they stepped into the room, Yim could see her captors. The seven men restraining her all looked like soldiers, despite being unarmored and unarmed. However, a priest seemed in charge. “Bind her hands and gag her.”
Yim’s wrists were crossed behind her back and securely tied with a rope so smooth that it felt like silk. A leather gag quickly replaced the hand covering her mouth. The leather seemed new. It had been oiled with a fragrant spice. Then one of the men searched her clothing and took the knife. “Now the blindfold,” said the priest.
Black silk was tied over Yim’s eyes, and she was in darkness again. “Good work, men,” said the priest’s voice. “We’ll take her from here.” The hands gripping her arms were replaced by different ones. Yim heard retreating footsteps, then the priest spoke again. “My lady, you will need to climb some stairs, quite a few I’m afraid. We’ll go slowly so you won’t stub a toe.”
My lady! thought Yim. That’s what Bahl’s men called me before. They must know who I am! Moreover, Yim realized that they had been expecting her and had prepared a trap. The way she had been so quickly captured in the dark marked precision achieved through long drilling. That rope was left to lure me here.
What terrified Yim even more than being captured was the likelihood that her reception was Froan’s doing. Instead of stepping up and greeting her, he had her bound like a thief. It certainly boded ill for their talk together, especially the gag.
“Come,” said the priest. The hands gripping Yim’s arms gently forced her forward. They stopped her a few paces later. She heard one of her captors say, “Ye’re afore the steps m’lady.” Yim found the first one with her foot. Then she was solicitously forced to climb flight after flight of stairs. Eventually, she halted on a landing where she heard a door open with a creaking, metallic sound. Then she was climbing stairs again, except they were spiral ones and there were no landings. The air was dank and chilly, and it had a foul odor that seemed a mixture of smoke and putrescence.
Yim’s legs ached by the time her captors halted her, opened another metal door, and forced her into a chamber. They maneuvered her about until the backs of her knees touched something. “There’s a bed behind ye, m’lady. Sit down on it.” Yim did. “Now, lie down on yer back.” Yim obeyed, and felt her captors grab her ankles. “Don’t be alarmed, my lady,” said a voice. “Ye’ll be treated with the utmost respect.” With that, her legs were spread, and her ankles were manacled. The irons felt cushioned inside, but their grip was firm.
Then Yim was made to sit up in the bed so her wrists could be untied. A
fter they were freed, she was told to lie down again and her wrists were put in cushioned manacles also. Yim’s restraints forced her into a loosely spread-eagle position. She could move but only within limits, and her hands couldn’t touch her face. Finally, to Yim’s relief, her blindfold and gag were removed.
Yim looked around. She was in a windowless room with a ceiling, floor, and walls made of dull black stone. She was lying on a feather mattress and shackled to a large bed made of iron. It was elegantly crafted, considering its function. The four posts were cast in the form of richly detailed soldiers, each different but each tugging at a manacle’s chain. There was an elaborately carved ebony table holding an oil lamp in the form of a silver skull. A silver tray also sat on the table. It held a golden bowl of honeyed fruit and a golden wine ewer and goblet.
Yim paid less attention to these items than to the men in the room. They were all robed as priests. Initially there were four, but two left after removing her gag and blindfold. Summoning up a voice of outraged authority, Yim said, “What’s the meaning of this?”
The elder of the remaining priests smiled, seemingly amused by Yim’s tone. “Why, my lady, all this is for your own protection. You must confess that you’ve been careless with your person. Climbing walls at night! You’re fortunate to be uninjured.”
“I had to get in some way.”
The Iron Palace Page 37
