by Hugh Cook
As he hauled himself out of the pipe, a blast of heat flushed his face, neck and belly. When he was out of the pipe as far as his navel, he felt his body starting to sag in the middle. He paused, winding the slack of the rope round his right forearm. He wriggled forward. Soon the rope was taking half his weight, with his feet supporting the rest. He was now suspended over the fire chasm; he felt as if he was cooking. The far side was just out of reach.
His toes worked their way to the edge of the sewer. He lifted one foot, and explored the edge of the sewer with his boot. Then he kicked off, jerking his knees in to his chest.
He swung across the chasm. Knees tucked in to his chest, he slammed into the far side. His feet took the brunt of the impact. There was a ripping sound: his cloth rope was tearing. Desperately he reached up with his left hand, took the full weight of his body in that hand, wound in the slack with his right forearm, then repeated the process.
His hand slammed home on level rock. He had gained a purchase on the top! In a few seconds, he had hauled himself up onto the rock ledge. He rolled away from the heat and lay panting. His body was wringing wet with sweat; his mouth was a desert. Slowly, he gathered his strength and got to his knees. He stood up. He felt the blood swoon from his head; dizzy, he collapsed to his knees. He crawled to the door, one horse-length from the chasm.
He rested by the door for a while, then, when he had recovered somewhat, he got up and inspected it. There was no handle on the inside. He tried to lever it open, and failed. The hinges were on the far side. When he threw his weight against it, it did not even creak. It was a solid door. He would have to cut a hole in it. Either that, or die.
He decided to work in the middle, cutting a hole he could reach through to lift whatever bar secured the door. Of course, if the door was bolted shut, the bolt would be to one side, out of reach. With that happy thought, he set to work with knife, hook and chisel.
Morgan Hearst had by now entirely lost track of time. He worked methodically, without thought, pausing only when his arms cramped, and he had to straighten them to ease the muscle spasms. He was very tired now; as he worked, he had occasional hallucinatory dreams for two or three breaths at a time.
At last he managed to make a small hole which he could poke his chisel through. Peering through the hole, he made out the dim outlines of a small, bare room. Or was it a section of a corridor? He could see very little of it. But what he could see was a slit window admitting grey dawniight.
He had run out of darkness.
Hearst worked harder. Every time he stopped to look at his steadily widening hole, the light on the far side was brighter. Eventually, brilliant daylight was streaming in through the slit window. Panting, sweating, swearing occasionally – silently, for it hurt his throat to speak – he hacked, gouged, jabbed and scraped, splintering the wood and ripping it away.
The first time he tried to force his hand through the hole, it got stuck. Splinters jagged into it as he wrenched it back. He attacked the door in a vicious frenzy, expending the last of his energy. When he halted, gasping, the hole was large enough. He reached through and groped around, searching for a bar which he could lift to open the door.
Someone grabbed his hand.
Hearst hauled with all his strength, trying to retrieve his hand. It was impossible. He swore aloud. His voice was a croak. He swore again. He had been caught in a trap. After all that effort, he had been caught. His rage overmastered him. He slammed his head against the door in frustration.
The door began to open.
As the door opened, Hearst was dragged into the daylight. Then his hand was released, suddenly. He fell backwards onto the floor. He lay there, exhausted, half-blinded by the light. A small group of people gathered round and stared down at him. His vision blurred then focused. He recognized the Lord Emperor Celadric, dressed in lightweight silks; the emperor's brother, Meddon, wearing chain mail and bearing weapons; the Ondrask of Noth, in his ceremonial regalia; the pirate chief Draven, and, standing beside him and looking very pale, the Princess Quenerain.
'You took longer than I expected,' said Celadric. 'Yes,' said Meddon. 'Still, you're lucky to have made it. Half our prisoners die in the attempt.’
Hearst managed a few words in a wretched, rusty voice. 'Am I free then?’
'Oh no,' said Meddon, laughing. 'Not that lucky. The Ondrask has sharpened a knife for you.' 'Any last requests?' said Celadric. 'You can have my woman, if you like,' said Draven. The Princess Quenerain flinched. 'Water,' said Hearst.
'The prisoner is to be denied all water,' said Celadric, then turned and walked away.
'If it's any consolation,' said Meddon, 'you're going to be in good company. General Chonjara is going to be executed today. That's part of the deal with our friend Draven. He doesn't want the general escaping then coming looking for his woman.’
'Watashi?' croaked Hearst.
'He goes into the stocks in the market place at noon,' said Meddon, 'along with your other friends. They'll be stoned to death by the mob.’
And Meddon smiled, produced a wilted flower and dropped it on Hearst's chest. This was a subtle insult, reminding him of how easily he had been taken the day before. Then Meddon too turned and walked away.
Hearst jerked his hook up to his throat, intending to slash his carotids then and there. But the Ondrask stepped on his right arm before he could do himself any injury. The Ondrask gave a curt order in a language Hearst could not understand.
And guards seized hold of the Rovac warrior Morgan Hearst, and carried him away.
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
Garabatoon was crowded for the river festival. Just upstream of the bridge, a clutter of rafts and small boats jammed the Hollern River. Then there was a long stretch of river which had been left clear for boat races, river crossing competitions and so forth. Then, further upstream, there were three rafts.
The three rafts lying upstream from Garabatoon all belonged to the Ondrask of Noth. One was a floating funeral pyre, on which sacrifices would be carried out. Another was the Ondrask's personal residence. The third housed the Ondrask's retainers, who numbered about two dozen.
Toward mid-morning, people began to drift out of Garabatoon, and soon both banks were lined with spectators. Then General Chonjara and Morgan Hearst were led to the riverbank. Both men were stripped to the waist and had their arms tied behind their backs.
Hearst watched as Chonjara was led out along a gangplank to the floating funeral pyre. He was made to lie down in amongst the high-piled firewood. He almost disappeared in it. The guards withdrew. The Ondrask climbed up to Chonjara, raised a knife high, stabbed down, and hauled out Chonjara's beating heart. The crowd gave a roar of approval.
Even as Hearst was hustled forward by the guards, other guards were putting torches to the firewood. A black cloth had been thrown over Chonjara's body, but the wood around was splattered with gore. Hearst was laid down in amongst the firewood in a coffin-sized indentation. He took his last look at the sky. The Ondrask loomed over him.
The Ondrask spoke briefly. Hearst did not understand,
but a guard standing at the Ondrask's shoulder translated. 'Goodbye, Morgan.’
'I speak Ordhar,' said Hearst, using the Collosnon battle language.
'The Ondrask speaks only Eparget,' said the guard, in the Galish Trading Tongue.
There was the sound of the black cloth being twitched away. Hearst could not see the body. The Ondrask bent down, leaning to one side. He was dipping his finger in blood. He anointed Hearst with the blood, and spoke earnestly. The guard translated.
'Morgan, I have to kill you, but I bear you no ill. My religion holds that the soul of the warrior goes to Nazagost, the place of the Testing. Have courage for the Test. Endure.’
Hearst made no answer.
He watched as the Ondrask raised his knife. The blade had not been cleaned. It was still bloodstained. As Hearst watched, a drop fell from the blade. He could smell smoke. He heard the fierce crackle of flames, and
knew the wood was well and truly ablaze. He saw the the Ondrask grimace, about to stab downwards. Despite himself, Hearst closed his eyes.
He felt a lacerating pain in his chest and heard his own scream. Opening his eyes, he saw the Ondrask holding aloft his beating heart. Then he was falling, his sight failing. He fell through fire, smashed into a barrier, and knew no more.
***
Morgan Hearst opened his eyes and stared up at a strange sky of blue and green. He tried to speak; a croak came out of his mouth. A stranger, a woman with long hair, fed him water. Honey had been mixed into the water. He drank, and it was good. 'This is Nazagost,' said the woman. 'The place of Testing.’
So it was true. He had died, and had come to the place of Testing. Slowly, he raised his right arm, and saw the articulation of wood and metal that held his hook in place. He was bitterly disappointed to find he had been reincarnated as a cripple.
T will contend against any man, god or hero if the battle can win me my hand,' said Hearst.
'It can win more than that,' said a familiar voice, as someone sitting behind him spoke. 'It can win you an empire.’
'Yen Olass?' said Hearst.
His chest was hurting. Looking down, he saw a ragged cut in his skin, as if someone had sliced it with a jagged knife. He tried to turn around to see Yen Olass.
'Are you dead too?' said Hearst.
'We'll all be dead if we carry on with this nonsense,' growled a voice.
Hearst propped himself up on an elbow and saw Yen Olass Ampadara and General Chonjara sitting in opposite corners of a… a bamboo room? A room on a raft? He glanced up at the ceiling. Loose-woven bamboo, still fresh and green, making a pattern of blue and green as the sky showed through. But he had seen his own heart! He remembered it being dragged out of his body.
'There was a hole in the bottom of the sacrifice raft,' said Yen Olass. 'You were dropped through it. We recovered you. I pulled you out myself – I'm a good swimmer, you know.’
'But my heart-’
'An ox, stupid. He had two great big beefy oxen under that great big black cloth. One for Chonjara, one for you.’
'But I felt my… I felt my heart getting torn out. I remember.’
'That's your imagination speaking,' said Yen Olass. 'You were slashed across the chest, that's all.’
'But if the whole sacrifice was a sham,' said Hearst,
starting to get angry. 'Then why cut me at all?’
'Because my lover is something of a sadist,' said Yen Olass.
'Your lover?' said Hearst. 'The… the Ondrask?' 'Not yet,' said Yen Olass. 'But he will be. Once I'm Kenagek.' 'Kenagek?’
'The Kenagek is the mother of the emperor,' said Yen Olass.
'You're going to try and make yourself Celadric's mother?' said Hearst, feeling confused.
'No,' said Yen Olass. 'Celadric is going to abdicate in favour of Monogail. He doesn't know it yet, of course. But he will.’
'How are you going to persuade him?' said Hearst.
'With a knife,' said Yen Olass. 'A castrating knife, if necessary. He's accepted an invitation to dine with the Ondrask at noon. His brother Meddon's coming too. We'll kill Meddon and kidnap Celadric. Once we get him to the Lesser Teeth, we can make him agree to anything we want.’
'You've left something out of your battle plan,' said Hearst.
'What's that,' said Yen Olass. 'York.’
'Oh, I've killed him already,' said Yen Olass happily. 'I'm famous, don't you know. Hundreds of soldiers are out combing the countryside for me. Celadric always wanted his brother dead, but as a matter of form he's even committed his persona! bodyguard to the hunt.’
'You're crazy,' said Hearst scornfully. 'Garabatoon is still swarming with men. What've you got here? Five? Six?’
'About a dozen,' said Yen Olass. 'And the same number of women.’
'You'll all be dead by nightfall,' said Hearst.
'By nightfall, we'll be safely at sea,' said Yen Olass. 'Losh Negis-’
'Who?’
'The Ondrask here,' said Yen Olass. 'There was a banquet last night. Afterwards, he went to Draven's ship, anchored just downriver from Garabatoon. He'd offended the emperor, and did not think it safe to spend the night in Castle Celadric. They spent part of the night plotting. Today, while we seize Celadric, Draven's men will be raiding the marketplace at Garabatoon, to release Watashi and the others.’
'A handful of pirates versus a whole town?' said Hearst. 'That's ridiculous!’
' 'Draven's got sixty men,' said Yen Olass. 'Some of them have got Collosnon armour. They can pose as Celadric's soldiers.’
'They'll need more than a little amateur acting to cheat the mob of its victims,' said Hearst.
'They're going to burn down the town,' said Yen Olass. 'Start a few fires, and people will be running in all directions – most of them drunk. Draven isn't stupid, you know. Probably there'll be so much confusion that nobody will notice the prisoners are gone until this time tomorrow.’
'Celadric will be missed sooner.’
'Yes, but nobody will know where he's gone. We'll grab him, stuff him into a sack – a wet sack, with dirt and worms and rotten apples in it – then smuggle him down the river in a boat. With someone sitting on him. No, with two people sitting on him! Then we'll put him on Draven's ship.’
'How do you know you can trust the pirate?' said Hearst.
T don't know if I can trust him at all,' said Yen Olass simply. 'But I don't have much choice. My child's on his ship.’
'Which child is that?’
'What do you mean, which child? Monogail, of course, you ignorant-’
'Monogail! But how-’
'Nan Nulador, that's how. He grabbed her for Celadric. 421
What're your dungeons made of, huh? Ricepaper, perhaps?’
'Where's Nan Nulador now?' said Hearst.
T was put to the necessity of killing him,' said Yen Olass, 'So I could make good my escape.’
'Really? And tell me, how did you escape?’
T can walk through walls,' said Yen Olass, not wishing to confess to Hearst that she had been kidnapped and spirited out of the castle by a Yarglat tribesman in the Ondrask's employ.
'That's a very clever trick,' said Hearst. 'You must show it to me one day.’
'One day I will,' said Yen Olass.
'But only if you abandon your crazy scheme to kidnap Celadric,' said Hearst. 'Otherwise you won't live to see nightfall, let alone one day, whenever that may be.’
'Hey, it's not my crazy scheme. It's all these crazy men who thought it up. If you want to argue, you argue with them.’
'I'm not going to argue,' said Hearst. 'I'm going to sleep. Wake me up when it's all over.’
T haven't finished explaining things to you yet!' said Yen Olass.
'Goodnight,' said Hearst.
And, true to his word, he laid his head down and went to sleep – or pretended to.
'What does he say?' asked Chonjara, who had been unable to follow this conversation.
'He says he's not going to fight for us,' said Yen Olass. 'He's going to sleep instead.’
'He'll feel better when he's rested,' said Chonjara. 'In fact… so will I. Wake me if anything happens.’
And he too laid himself down, and, with the ease of a professional soldier, went to sleep.
***
Towards noon, the Lord Emperor Celadric came to the Ondrask's raft with his brother Meddon and a mob of fighting men. Some of the soldiers were Meddon's; some were members of Celadric's personal bodyguard, which he had now withdrawn from the womanhunt.
Hearst, Yen Olass and Chonjara watched through cracks in the bamboo walls as the troops came aboard. There was no need for a council of war: they were obviously badly outnumbered. They would not be kidnapping Celadric today.
Losh Negis came into the cabin and silently handed out ceremonial masks, which would obscure their identity if anyone was rude enough to challenge the cabin's privacy. Along with ten of the Ondrask's men, they w
aited, hoping Celadric and Meddon would not stay too long. Outside, the rest of the Ondrask's people – most of them women – began serving the guests.
With so many people crowded into the cabin and warm sunlight beating down, it was hot. Yen Olass, sweating behind a horsehide mask, peered through a crack in the wall. What she saw was mostly legs, none of which took her fancy.
Outside, the Ondrask was now confronting Celadric, who had brought him a gift.
'What is it?' said Losh Negis, taking the elaborately carved casket his emperor handed him.
'Open it,' said Celadric with a smile.
So Losh Negis opened the casket, and discovered a knife reclining on velvet. A very beautiful knife.
'Do you know what it's for?' said Celadric gently.
'No,' said Losh Negis.
'It's to kill yourself with,' said Celadric, in his oboe-smooth voice. 'Your behaviour last night was less than acceptable. You must understand that such behaviour has consequences.’
Losh Negis hesitated.
Celadric turned to Meddon and said:
'Kill him.’
'With pleasure,' said Meddon, drawing his sword. 423
Losh Negis dropped the casket and fled. He hurled himself against the door of the cabin, which burst open. He crashed to the floor amongst the bodies inside.
'Eagles!' shouted Meddon.
And in a trice, blades were out and blood was flying. Celadric came running in after Losh Negis. He had been slashed across the face. His panic was masked with blood. Outside, his men were being butchered by Meddon's bravos.
The fight on the raft was brief. Taken by surprise, Celadric's men were easy meat. Most of them, in keeping with the spirit of a river festival, had come unarmed. Meddon, victorious, entered the cabin and looked around. There were fifteen people inside. Every one of them was now wearing a horsehide mask.
