Diana had the good grace to color. Rita was smiling, and she did not mean her suggestion as a rebuke, but the facts were plain. Diana knew that it was her killing of Jondolar that led to the rise of Shobar.
“Since Shobar took the throne, he has increased the fortifications of Estrans,” said Diana. “I would not venture to attack it with the forces we currently have in Utrea. The barbarians have taken great heart from our defeat at Ostracis. I suggest we retake Ostracis before we make any other moves. If we destroy Nestar Crogus and his men, that will do much to restore the faith of the Sisterhood in the Legions.”
“Do we have the strength to do even that?” asked Rita doubtfully. “The Skull Watch units that took Ostracis are among Shobar’s best. They will fight hard.”
Diana was considering telling her what she had worked out with Durga when there was ping, so instead she said, “Excuse me, I must check this comm channel.” Diana was astonished to see that it was the queen. She was so used to dealing with Deirdre. She still could not believe she was gone. She opened the comm channel and said quickly, “Your Majesty, what a wonderful surprise. I am sitting with Resident Rita, and we were just discussing our next moves in Utrea.”
“Cornelle, Resident, I am pleased to find you both together,” said Hildegard. She was in the Imperial Suite in Chateau Regina and wore the regalia of her office. “You have no doubt heard the terrible news from Aurora. In addition to creating a leadership vacuum, the loss of Princess Deirdre is a heavy blow to morale throughout the Sisterhood. With our current military and political reverses, our situation is growing desperate. I have therefore decided to seek an alliance with Arch Baron Lothar Nibellus in Vesterans. I will be leaving Atlantic City shortly in my air barge accompanied by Princess Andromache. Cornelle, I would like you to board the Thetis and fly with her toward Vesterans. My air barge will rendezvous with you on the way. Please ask Captain Hebe to establish contact with my air barge pilot to set this up and kindly beg her pardon that I have not contacted her directly. I would like to arrive in Vesterans aboard the Thetis.”
“I hear and obey, ma’am,” said Diana formally with a salute, hand on heart.
THE SCREAM WAS so piercing, so long, and so unlike anything that they had ever heard before that it did not sound human. It froze all of them into inaction. Durga was first to recover.
“What could that be?” she asked in a low voice.
“Torture,” said Greghar grimly. “Nestar Crogus’s favorite recreation.”
Then there came a second scream, more pain-filled than the first, followed by harsh, racking sobs.
“It is Lady Caitlin,” said Nitya in a hushed voice, her eyes growing wide with fright. “They are torturing her.”
Greghar struck a wall with his fist.
“Durga, you may do what you will,” he said shortly. “I cannot wait any longer. I am going up there to take Lady Caitlin from these monsters. I only ask that you do not stop me.”
“Savage, your concern for Lady Caitlin is moving,” said Durga with uncharacteristic mildness. “But throwing your life away will accomplish nothing. I did not choose Elena and Ielani randomly. Both of them were residents here in Ostracis, and Ielani served in the Keep itself.”
“I do not understand,” said Greghar, nonplussed, looking from Elena to Ielani and back. “I thought Ostracis was for the old, the weak, and the ill-favored.”
“My looks were considered subpar, and I was failed by the beauty boards,” said Elena briefly. The rejection was years past, but it still hurt when she thought of how her sisters had spurned her.
“I refused to have my nose redone,” said Ielani, smiling ironically and turning her head to show them her profile. Her nose was thin, but it had a distinct hook. It actually suited Ielani’s face and was quite pleasing, but clearly it had not met the Zon standards of perfection. She continued, “They are obviously feasting in the Great Hall of the Keep. If we go around to the side, there is an open terrace that opens into a narrow gallery that runs around the ceiling of the Great Hall. If we scale the terrace, we should be able to find a vantage point from which we can look down into the Great Hall.”
“Let us move quickly then,” said Durga decisively. “Savage, since you are so keen, you may lead the way. I assume you can climb a rope?”
“Yes,” said Greghar shortly.
They followed Ielani around the Keep. She pulled an air pistol out of her weapons belt and fed a section of her zircon lasso into the chamber. With great care, she aimed it upward and fired. There was a hiss, and the lasso soared into the air. However, the knot that Ielani had made failed to find a stanchion to loop around. It fell back to their feet with a swish. She tried again, with similar results. On the third attempt, the knot in the lasso caught on a merlon. Ielani tested it with her weight and confirmed that it was safe. She stood back and motioned Greghar to the lasso with a mock bow.
He took the lasso in both hands and spoke over his shoulder.
“Come, Nitya, put your hands around my shoulders. I will carry you up.”
“Are you sure you will be okay?” she asked with just a hint of doubt.
“I won’t look down,” he smiled.
She did as he asked, and he quickly began to ascend the wall. Hand over hand on the zircon lasso he climbed, steadying himself with his feet on the Keep wall. It was unlike any rope he had ever used. It was so easy to grip it felt like his hands were glued to it, yet when he removed his hand to move upward, there was no sensation of stickiness. He quickly reached the terrace and heaved Nitya over the edge before following. In very short order, Durga, Elena, and Ielani appeared, and the lasso was packed away.
They followed Ielani as she led them to a set of French windows. They peered through the ice-streaked glass directly down into the Great Hall, lit now by torches and hundreds of candles, with blazing fires in the two huge hearths. Ielani quickly jimmied the lock and opened one of the windows just a crack. They saw Nestar pour himself a shot of glacial brandy with Caitlin at his feet, her limbs at odd angles. She was fighting to control herself but with frightening regularity, sobs of the deepest suffering escaped her lips.
“Carry her to the master suite,” they heard him say to his personal guards. “Tie her wrists and ankles to the bedposts. I shall be there momentarily to consummate my wedding.”
Greghar’s fists knotted.
“I will kill Nestar Crogus, very slowly,” he hissed.
“Take a number and get in line,” said Durga, her tone casual but low. “Ielani, can we get to the master suite before them?”
Ielani’s brows knitted as she thought furiously. She closed the French window she had jimmied.
“The master suite is on the same level as the Great Hall,” she said. “The level below where we are right now. The other side of this terrace opens into the upper level of the library. The corridor outside the library’s lower level leads directly to the master suite.”
“Lead the way,” said Durga, drawing one of her long daggers.
They followed Ielani over to the other side of the terrace and watched as she jimmied another French window. This time she swung it open and peered inside before stepping into the gloom. The library was silent and in pitch darkness. Ielani tapped her wrist bracer and activated a very small light. She shone it at the ground around her feet, and they saw that she stood on an interior balcony that overlooked a large room. The library had been a repository of information, with banks of devices to read material in ancient, long-forgotten formats. The aged residents of Ostracis were fond of looking back, of gazing into the history of Sisterhood, and the commandant’s library was a place where they could lose themselves in the past.
They all joined Ielani on the interior balcony, shutting the French window behind them. She cautiously raised the intensity of illumination from her wrist bracer. The balcony had a range of comfortable furniture, but now it had all been upended, and most of it had been smashed. They found a narrow staircase that took them down to the lower level. Th
e lower level comprised the main floor of the library, and it was a littered with shattered glass, broken plastic, and wrecked furniture. Ielani led the way to the large double doors, only one of which remained on its hinges. They approached warily from an acute angle to minimize the chance of their being seen from outside. They moved slowly, watching their steps.
Ielani carefully craned her neck to look outside.
“One guard, about twenty meters down at the end of the corridor,” she whispered. “He’s at the door to the master suite.”
“I’ll take his place,” said Greghar in a tone that brooked no argument. “Then the rest of you can wait within the master suite. Ielani, I hope you can set up a way for us to get out of the windows and down to the ground.”
She nodded.
“We need to silence that man…” began Durga in a whisper. Before she could complete her sentence, Greghar had reached down, drawn one of her long daggers from her thigh boot, and walked out into the corridor. The rest of them froze.
He walked toward the guard, swaying slightly from side to side, humming to himself. As he got about halfway down the corridor, the guard thumped his pike on the floor to get his attention and called out, “No one is allowed here but the cheval’s personal guard. Who are you?”
“I’sh…I’sh Nabish…, looking for a place to take a piss,” slurred Greghar. “Where’s I to go?”
“Not here,” said the guard roughly. “Just turn around and go back to the Great Hall. Someone there can tell you where to go.”
Greghar kept lurching forward. Now he was only five meters away. He was not close enough. He stopped.
“Brothers,” he said plaintively, brushing an imaginary tear out of his eye. “You and I are brothers in the Skull Watch. Shoulder to shoulder, against any odds, fight or die but never sundered. Brothers!”
“Yes, yes,” said the guard impatiently. “We are brothers indeed. But you must go now. Just turn around and go back to—”
Greghar was only a meter away now, and his entire demeanor changed. He straightened, took two rapid steps, and had the guard by the throat with his left hand. As the guard took one hand off his pike to try to free himself, Greghar stabbed him just under his breastplate with Durga’s long dagger. He held him up against the wall, choking off his cries until he ceased to struggle. Then he lowered the limp body to the ground and warily opened the door to the master suite. It was dimly lit with only a single candle burning on a bedside table. The huge fourposter bed was freshly made and overlaid with heavy blankets.
Satisfied that the master suite was untenanted, he dragged the guard inside and made a quick motion with his arm, beckoning the others. They silently hurried down the corridor and into the suite. Greghar shut the door behind them. He had sheathed Durga’s bloody dagger in his own boot and donned the guard’s distinctive Skull Watch helmet.
“I will take the guard’s place outside,” he said, speaking rapidly in Pranto to the shock of the Maidens. “When they bring her here, I will let them in and stay behind them. The four of you will be ready to dispose of them, if necessary. In the meantime, try and get things set up for us to escape out of the windows. Remember, we will need some form of a sling, for Lady Caitlin is seriously injured.”
Without waiting for a response, he left them and stationed himself outside, shutting the door. Fifteen minutes ago, he was my prisoner; now he is giving me orders, mused Durga. But she was too results-oriented to bear him malice.
Greghar hunched down in an attempt to conceal his great height and hoped that the dim light in the corridor would work to his favor. He heard their voices before they appeared at the end of the long corridor. They were talking in normal tones, which sounded unnaturally loud to his ears now that he had grown accustomed to whispers. There were six of them, one leading the way with a burning torch, four bearing an open litter, and one bringing up the rear. He listened intently.
“I tell you, lads, it was hard for me to watch the baron strike her down and break her,” said one of the litter bearers. “I was with Captain Guttanar in Grenhall, and you should have seen the beating she took from him without a whimper. And the way she rides a horse! Arms bound behind her back, she cleared a huge boulder, almost two meters high. She’ll never ride a horse like that again.”
“I’m with you, Hergaf,” said the torch bearer over his shoulder. “Look at the way she took out Putvis the Toad with his own pike this afternoon. Dancing on her high heels, wielding the pike like a goddess of war!”
“Girlish, maudlin talk!” sneered another of the litter bearers. “The baron is wise; she is a dangerous bitch. Lame and maimed, she’ll not worry him in bed. If the wars go on like this, I’ll get my own Zon huntress, and the baron has shown me how to break her.”
“Frogaf, that’s why the only women that will spend time with you are brothel whores,” said Hergaf, scoffing. “Unless you appreciate a woman and enjoy her company, what’s the good of it? There has to be sweetness between a man and a woman; otherwise, it is just rutting.”
“Hergaf and Lergin, does your ‘appreciation’ of women extend to the Zon?” asked Frograf dangerously.
By now they were approaching the door to the master suite, and Lergin, the torch bearer, saw the unfamiliar outlines of Greghar. However, he was reassured by the Skull Watch helmet and called out, “Where is Rhottan? I thought this was his watch?”
“Upset stomach,” said Greghar mechanically, working his Utrean syllables into the guttural accent of Swarborg. “Drank too much in the pre-dinner festivities.”
“Pissed again,” said Hergaf unpleasantly. “I tell you, one of these days, his ‘upset stomach’ is going to cost him his head.”
“I don’t know you,” said Lergin, his face and tone still neutral.
“New man,” said Greghar. “From one of the companies just assigned to Captain Guttanar.”
“Cheval Guttanar, don’t you forget it!” said Frogaf loudly. He turned to the others. “As always, lads, the baron is munificent. Our captain is made cheval and has new companies under him right away.”
“State your business,” said Greghar impatiently. “This is the baron’s master suite, and I am on watch. No one enters or leaves without the baron’s direct order.”
“The baron commands us to bring his lady to the wedding bed,” said Lergin, his tone indicating appreciation for Greghar’s professionalism. “We have her here in the litter.”
“Then bring her in,” said Greghar. He opened the door to the master suite and said loudly, “Lay her on the bed and return to your posts with the baron.”
“We are to bind her wrists and ankles to the bedposts,” said Frogaf viciously.
“Lergin and Hergaf will do that,” said Greghar brusquely. “You will stand here by the door, Frogaf.”
“Who are you to tell me—” began Frogaf.
“It is my watch,” said Greghar evenly, his eyes like chips of ice. Looking up at his massive form, Frogaf ’s retort died in his throat. He yielded his spot on the litter to Greghar and stood by the door, glaring at his back.
As they entered the master suite, Greghar was relieved to see that the Maidens and Nitya were out of sight. He pulled back the blankets and coverlet with his left hand and motioned to the others.
“Lergin, Hergaf, lay her on the bed,” Greghar said calmly. “Be gentle now, or the baron will have your hides.”
Greghar helped to hold the litter steady while the two Skull Watchmen lifted Caitlin from it. His jaw tightened as he saw her up close. She had passed out again from the pain, but her face was still screwed up in an agonized expression. They lifted her gently, but the slightest movement caused her to moan in Pranto, “Oh Ma, please let me die.” Even her unconsciousness did not shelter her from the pain. She bit her lip in an attempt to control herself, but her breath still came in sobbing gasps.
They laid her down on the bed, and Greghar silently handed them two silken scarves that Aliuta had draped over the headboard earlier in the day. Lergin and Herg
af looked embarrassed as they took them. They dexterously tied loose knots around her wrists and ankles and secured the trailing ends to the four posts of the huge bed. They made to take the litter, but Greghar stopped them, saying, “Leave it here; the baron will need it to move her.”
Then he rapidly propelled all of them out of the suite and stepped out himself, shutting the door behind him.
“Go now,” he directed. “Tell the baron his woman is ready.”
They nodded and moved away down the corridor without looking back. Greghar watched them turn the corner and waited a few moments more before reentering the suite and shutting the door behind him. He shot the bolts home and moved a heavy dresser over to block it further. By the time he turned around, he saw with approval that Ielani was already using two zircon lassos with the litter to form a makeshift stretcher to lower Caitlin to the ground.
He hurried back to the bedside, where Nitya was leaning over Caitlin, stroking her hair. Elena, who had once begun to train as an emergency medical technician, was smoothly but very rapidly splinting her forearm. As Greghar approached, Nitya silently yielded her place by Caitlin’s head.
“I will need to splint her thigh before we move her,” said Elena, without stopping her work. “A broken femur is a major injury—it will be painful, but we must find a way to keep her silent while I do it.”
“I will speak to her—” began Durga.
“Please let me do it,” said Greghar, still speaking in Pranto. “We have been traveling together for some time. She knows my voice.”
Durga looked doubtful, but his use of Pranto had the desired effect. She had a small towel from the master suite bathroom in her hand.
“Well, there may be something in what you say,” she said. “If you can, ask her to bite on this towel—it will at least muffle her cries.”
Elena had completed her splint on Caitlin’s forearm and moved down to work on her leg. Greghar patted Caitlin’s brow and spoke in her ear.
The Empire of the Zon Page 48
