by Chris Bunch
"Take the prisoner into processing," the Roche ordered, and Hal was muscled off.
* * * *
He ended up in a small cell, looked about, assuming this would be his new home.
Then a tall, cadaverous-looking man, wearing robes, came into the room. A small wormy sort, wearing Derainian uniform, came in behind him, carrying a case and a wand.
"I am Ungava," the tall man said. "I am the wizard for Castle Mulde. It is my duty to ensure you'll never be able to escape. You'll be moved from here to a proper cell as soon as I've taken care of a couple of matters."
Without looking back, he held out a hand, and the small prisoner smacked the wand into it.
Ungava bowed his head over Hal's chains, muttered a phrase, struck the manacles, and the chains fell away.
Hal felt a moment of hope.
Ungava reached inside his robes, took out an atomizer.
He sprayed Hal with its contents.
Hal held back a coughing fit. Whatever magical items the atomizer held, all of them stank.
Ungava motioned with the wand to the four points of the compass, then began chanting. Hal could make out only a few of the words:
…
Bind, bind… hold fast
Swirl about… there is no north
You cannot see…
…
…
…
…
Hal lost the last four lines completely.
Ungava did all this with an air of boredom, as if this were a spell he cast every day.
He handed the wand back over his shoulder, looked at Hal expectantly.
Hal stared at him.
Ungava smiled tightly.
"Think of north, and then face in that direction," he ordered.
Hal took a moment, closed his eyes, thought. He'd come in, then a left, then a right into this cell. So north should be over…
Sickness caught him, almost like vertigo, which, as a flier, Hal had never felt.
He stumbled, almost fell.
The prisoner caught him.
Ungava's smile grew broader.
"This is what binds you to Castle Mulde, more than any guard, any stone wall, any chain. You, and the other prisoners, are held by confusion, so that even if you were able to physically escape the castle, which you'll learn is an impossibility, you'd still never be able to find your way to your own lines.
"Now you can join the others."
He nodded abruptly, wheeled, and stamped out. The small prisoner looked back at the door, smiled sadly, and winked.
Hal didn't know what that meant, if anything beyond a slight bit of encouragement.
Waiting outside the cell was an officer in Derainian uniform who wore the dragon emblem on his chest. He limped over, saluted Hal and introduced himself as Lieutenant Sir Alt Hofei, formerly executive officer of the 66th Dragon Flight, with Second Army.
"But now," Hofei said, "I'm like all the others in here, rattling my chains and watching the world go past. Can't even escape, thanks to my damned leg. Tell me, sir," he said eagerly, "how goes the war? We get no news here… which is quite deliberate on the part of our peerless warder, Baron Patiala.
"It's like that damned spell," he said. "I saw Ungava the wand-waver go past a few moments ago, so I assume you're ensorcelled like the rest of us."
"It works as he said it does?" Hal asked.
"It does," Hofei said.
"Do we have any magicians here?"
"None," Hofei said. "And if there's any with a bit of the Talent, they're very damned quiet about it.
"You see, sir, Castle Mulde is for special cases. High-rankers, generals, noblemen… and fliers.
"There's hundred and forty-four—now a hundred and forty-five, counting you—fliers here. As for wizards, all of us were asked if we knew anything about magic when we were first told off to go to this damned place. I surely don't, but there were some who claimed they did.
"They were separated from the rest of us, and supposedly taken to a 'special camp.'
"Nobody knows for sure, but there's a cheery minority who think they were taken behind the nearest barn and had their neck stretched.
"Nice war we're having."
Hal nodded. "It is that."
"I've orders to show you to your room, sir," Hofei said.
"Room?"
"High-rankers such as yourself, Lord Kailas, rate a room, with but one or two mates." Hofei leaned close. "Although let me give you the warning, small rooms make a good place to start an escape from."
For the first time, Hal smiled.
"Escape, eh?"
"There's none of us… at least none of us who're fliers, who aren't always thinking, planning, maybe even trying something."
"Good," Hal said. "By the way. Since I'm a flier, like you said, we can eliminate the lord business."
"Yessir," Hofei said. "I assume you'll be taking over as senior officer."
"You may assume," Hal said, a bit astonished, "but I know nothing of that."
"A lord outranks a general, even if he is a sir, I'd guess," Hofei said. "So you'll most likely replace Sir Treffry, who'd like to see you as soon as it's convenient."
"Treffry? That heavyset one with grandfather whiskers?"
"That's him, sir. But don't think he's an ass, though he seems determined to make you think so, sometimes. Poor bastard was captured right at the start of the war. Tried to escape twice, captured twice, one of the first to be purged to Castle Mulde.
"Since then, he's made four more attempts. The last made it beyond the walls, and had the beastly luck of running into a Roche cavalry patrol."
* * * *
Hal was grateful for Hofei's warning.
He'd known men like Sir Sen Treffry before the war, when he was a wandering farm laborer. They were bluff, hearty sorts, seemingly more concerned for their prize bull or racing stables than anyone who worked for them, although they could show surprising interest in their workers. Certainly Hal had never been cheated of his wages by one of them, which hadn't been true of some other country gentry.
"So I's'pose you'll be the new 'un in charge, Lord Kailas?"
"Not a chance, sir," Hal said. "You know the ins and outs better than I do."
Treffry humphed, grunted.
"I s'pose that's a compliment," he said. "Although heard good things about you, from fliers that've come in, even though none of 'em have the slightest idea of discipline.
"I do wish you'd take command, though, to be selfish."
Hal waited.
"We've got a rule here," Treffry went on. "All escape plans have got to be registered with either myself, m' adj'tant or Lieutenant Hofei, whose main detail is head of the escape group. That keeps tunnels from running into each other and such.
"That means, course, that neither of the three of us can make a runaway of our own without steppin' down for a month or so. Keeps us honest, and from sneakin' others' ideas.
"Y'sure you wouldn't like the task?"
"You just made me even more so," Hal said.
Treffry huffed through his beard.
"Since there's times the walls appear to be listenin', I'll not draw the obvious conclusions from that.
"But I s'pose you'd like a briefing on what you're into."
"I would."
There were 309 prisoners in the castle, over half Derainian. There were three generals, "includin' m'self," twenty-one noble officers, nineteen noble civilians, "poor sots who got caught tourin' the Roche lands when the war started, and now they're mewed up like so many hawks, nobody quite knowin' what to do with them," seventy-one soldiers who'd made thorough pains of themselves by repeatedly attempting to escape, "fifty poor sorts of infantrymen, none escapers, who've been detailed off as batmen who also do scut work for the Roche, under protest," and 145 dragon fliers, all of whom had tried and failed to escape.
"Y'can, if you wish," Treffry said, "think of this damnable castle as a sort of academy, and the other prisoner of war camps as prim
ary schools. If you escape, and make it home, you've graduated.
"Failures are sent here, where they can try and try until they go quite mad."
Hal remembered something the traitor Tregony had said about being in a camp full of fliers, asked about him.
Treffry shook his head.
"Never heard of the wight. Friend of yours?"
"No," Hal said, then chanced again: "What about a woman flier, named Saslic Dinapur? Maybe killed, maybe captured, wounded, down in Kalabas?"
Saslic had been his first great love, had fallen into a melee of Roche soldiers, was presumed killed with her dragon.
"Don't b'lieve I have," Treffry said. "Though there's other camps for fliers who're better-behaved guests of the Roche."
A last feeble hope died in Hal. If Saslic had lived, she would undoubtedly have tried escape. So she was truly dead.
Then he felt senseless guilt, thinking of Khiri.
Treffry noted his expression, turned away.
"We've all lost someone," he said heavily. "Some of us more than one someone in these stupid damned times."
Hal asked about letters.
"None in, none out," Treffry said. "That's another burden Baron Patiala works on us.
"Speakin' of whom, I'm supposed to take you to him. Then young Hofei'll show you to your chambers.
"By the way. He''s a very good man, and the current head of the Escape Committee."
* * * *
Baron Patiala considered Hal icily.
He was about Hal's height, in his sixties, and wore a dress uniform with only one decoration on it. Hal decided, remembering a phrase of Farren Mariah's, that Patiala wouldn't say shit if he had a mouthful.
The commandant's office was in one of the castle's towers, and overlooked an exercise yard, and beyond the walls, a small patchwork of fields.
"I have always believed that you Derainians should be considered as nothing more than criminals for starting this war in the first place."
Hal suppressed a start.
"Oh yes," Patiala said. "Were it not for your country's refusal to consider reasonable demands from Queen Norcia, we would all be at peace.
"Instead, you chose to company with the loathsome Sagene… and now you are paying the price.
"You should be aware, Kailas, that your escort brought full details of your murderous behavior in your escape attempt, and the only thing that would please me more than to turn you over to a military court would be being permitted to execute you myself for murdering that poor soldier."
Hal said nothing.
"Be advised, Castle Mulde is run firmly but fairly. We do not torment our prisoners, unlike what I have heard your warders do to our soldiery.
"You are advised to follow my rules precisely, and, even though I consider you a common criminal, you will be treated as an equal with the others.
"Break my laws, and, at the very least, you'll be moved into a solitary cell.
"Obviously, any attempt to escape will be met with harsh penalties, and if, impossibly, you make it beyond these walls, the loyal Roche in the countryside will ensure your recapture."
Baron Patiala allowed that to sink in.
"You're dismissed."
Hal nodded curtly.
"So I am, Patiala."
He omitted a salute and the man's title, but didn't wait for a reaction.
Kailas spun, and stamped out of the office, determined, more than ever, that he would escape, and do it very damned soon.
10
Hal's room—cell—was halfway up one of the towers, and overlooked the river. He had two knights, captains, for company. They were out at the moment, Hofei said, "farming."
"Beg pardon?"
"Did you see those little fields when you were in Poophead Patalia's den? We've been given permission to work them, and harvest what we will."
"Hasn't anyone made a break.
"We're on parole when we're out there."
"Which nobody breaks?"
Hofei shook his head.
"You people are a great deal more moral than I am," Hal said. "But I suppose I'll have to go by custom."
Hofei took him out into the corridor.
"Treffry told you who I am?"
"He did."
"That's another point of morality we have," Hofei said. "All escapes get registered."
"Mmmh," Hal said. "How many successful getaways have there been?"
"We're not sure," Hofei said. "Six prisoners have gone out that've never come back. Whether they were killed or died in the forest, or what, we've never heard.
"We like to think the best."
Hal was about to tell him that, when he was captured, there'd been nothing heard about Castle Mulde. He would've expected to have heard something, considering his rank and the number of fliers imprisoned here.
But he said nothing.
Nor did he ask how many failed escapes there'd been.
The dank stone, the cold rain, and the mere fact of being prisoners was demoralizing enough.
"One caution I've given everyone, so there's no offense meant, sir," Hofei said. "Ignore anything that isn't your own business. It might be part of an escape.
"Treffry says that if anyone sees him walking around naked, with his buttocks painted purple and a broomstick stuffed up his arse, no one had better flicker, because he's on his way."
Hal managed a grin.
He went to the window.
"Don't, by the way, put any leverage on any of the bars around here," Hofei warned. "They've probably been chiseled loose by someone."
"Ah." Hal peered out, and Hofei limped to the window.
"Can you get ropes?"
"We have made them from thread, other materials," Hofei said, a bit proudly.
"Long enough to get out from here, then down to that rooftop, and from there…" Hal puzzled for a farther route.
"That roof you want to get to is one of the guards' barracks," Hofei said. "That route hasn't been tried since last winter, when three went down a rope from a floor below, then made a snow tunnel, trying for the wall.
"They were doing fine, until someone slipped, and they avalanched down to the courtyard. Two broken legs, one broken arm, and three months in solitary.
"But there's no reason, come winter, someone who's a little defter might not make it."
Hal nodded. He had no intention of waiting until winter.
* * * *
Hal's two roommates kept very much to themselves, showed Kailas formal courtesy, but seemed uninterested in making friends.
Hal had his feelings slightly hurt, then realized the two men were most likely up to their armpits in some sort of escape plan, and didn't need or want a third along.
* * * *
The prisoners ate twice a day, generally a soup called stew, that once a day had some bits of pieces of meat in it. Bread was baked by the prisoners, and shared with the guards.
The rest of the meal came from the gardens beyond the walls.
There were six prized hens, bought from the locals, and there was a drawing for the eggs.
It wasn't much, but just enough to keep from starving.
Just.
* * * *
The eleven women prisoners in Castle Mulde were assiduously courted by the others. But there were very damned few places to be alone, and it took some arrangement to find an empty cell.
The second problem was avoiding pregnancy, which, so far, hadn't happened.
Baron Patiala had sworn that any woman getting pregnant would never be freed, and she and her "spawn" could keep on rotting where they were.
There would be no mercy, he said, until the Roche standards flew over Sagene's capital of Fovant and Rozen.
* * * *
While Hofei was showing Hal around the castle, they encountered a man on a landing, in deep conversation with himself, talking, laughing, seemingly content.
When they were out of hearing, Hofei said, "One of our madmen. He's harmless. There're three others we k
eep in cells who want to do damage to others… or themselves."
"Can't you get a magician in to try to straighten out their minds?"
Hofei snorted.
Late that night, Hal heard the screaming of one of the madmen, echoing up the stairs from the cellars.
* * * *
Hal's first lesson as a prisoner was finding some way to pass the time.
His first attempt was to sleep, the customary pastime of any combat soldier. He knew Patiala and his guards were watching him closely, and thought it might be wise to appear docile until they grew bored waiting for him to do something.
But, impossible as it seems to serving soldiers, it is possible to catch up on all the hours missed on detail, night guard, or action.
Eventually, Hal could sleep no more, and sought another way of passing the time.
As yet, no brilliant ideas had come that shouted "this is the way out."
So he set about learning Castle Mulde from top to bottom.
Hofei eagerly showed him plans the prisoners had drawn up, and Kailas memorized them.
But still, nothing came.
Once again, witless, he noted the pastimes of the older prisoners—some taught anything they knew, from the art of fishing with a net to history to music to blacksmithing to embroidery, which was taught by one of the Derainian generals.
Others took every "course" they could, even though this schooling might be no more than one man talking to another man in a corner of the courtyard.
* * * *
The cell doors were magically locked at nightfall, unlocked at dawn, and the guards didn't bother the prisoners much, other than making irregular sweeps, looking for anything.
The unconfirmed story was that the guards had been chosen for a bit of prescience.
No one knew if that was true, but when a Roche passed, prisoners made an effort to think and talk about things other than escape.
There was a morning and evening assembly, but no more.
The occasional working parties were quickly volunteered for, doing various tasks in and out of the castle. They, too, helped the time pass.
* * * *
"Interesting thing you might not be aware of," Treffry said one morning. "This castle had another face, once."
Hal brushed raindrops away from his eyes. The two were walking up and down a chill battlement, which was better than the rather smelly confines of the castle, and, best yet, fairly lonely.
