4

⁠—⁠—⁠— IV ⁠—⁠—⁠—

The guards had taken Rinda from her two companions and dragged her to a small room at the top of the tower. The heavy door to her cell had swung shut with a dull thud, and she had listened to the harsh laughter of the guards receding down the stairs. After a long moment of grim despair, she had realized she was not alone.

Like the room in which her brother and the leopard-man were being held, her cell was built of solid stone; but hers lacked even a small opening to admit daylight from without, and so she could see nothing for a while until her eyes adjusted to the dark.

A moldy, disquieting smell filled the air, doing nothing to ease the young girl’s already frayed nerves. To one with her gift of farseeing, the odor meant nothing less than that she was much too close to the spirit world, and that if she made one misstep in this dark place, she might cross to the other side, never to return.

Far from making any missteps, Rinda hadn’t moved an inch since she was pushed into the room. She stood perfectly still with her back to the door, peering toward the middle of the room, where, from about halfway between the floor and the dimly visible outline of a tabletop, two green eyes were staring at her, shining with an unholy light.

The eyes were too big to be those of a torq rat—almost human-sized, in fact; yet they shone from a narrow space where no human could have fit. Visions flashed through the girl’s mind: it was a giant man-eating centipede, or worse, one of the ghoulish Doal-spawn from their nightmare passage through the Roodwood the night before.

Rinda stood for a long time, clutching her arms to her chest, vainly trying to stop trembling. Her blue lips whispered the name of Janos, and she traced a rune in the air to ward off demons.

The standoff ended as abruptly as it had begun. Rinda had stood transfixed, staring at those eyes for what seemed like forever, until suddenly she felt that the eyes staring back were as scared—no, even more scared—of her as she was of them! She couldn’t have said how she knew, but surely it was due in part to her heightened sensitivity to the spirit auras of other living things.

Rinda took a deep breath, summoned up all her courage and stepped forward.

“Now there, don’t be frightened.”

Now that the silence was broken, she found it much easier to continue. “You are a prisoner here, too?”

Nothing. The eyes continued to stare at her, unmoving. She spoke a few words more, but whatever it was under the table did not seem to understand her language. And yet, just as the girl was giving up on trying to communicate and beginning to think about sitting down and getting some rest, her bright, childlike voice finally elicited a reaction. Her cellmate slowly wormed out from its hiding place and stood in front of her.

Rinda’s eyes went wide as she stared at the creature before her. At first, she thought it was a child. Even standing at its full height, it only came up to her waist. Its body, however, was not that of a child, but rather had the squat torso and long arms of a monkey; indeed, it could have been a monkey, with its round face and decidedly non-human features. At the same time, there was something in those shining green eyes that suggested that this was no wild animal.

The creature’s hair fell in tangled locks down its neck, and it wore a crude cloak of animal hide with a hole cut for its head. It was not all that old, that was certain. In fact, it was probably a young girl. Her skin was everywhere covered with a light coat of fur, and at her neck and wrists she wore circlets of wisteria tendrils deftly woven with pretty flowers. Somehow, the sight of the drooping petals around the little girl’s neck was a great relief to Rinda.

“You were captured, too, weren’t you?” the princess said. “You and me, we’re the same.” She pointed at her companion, then at herself. “You’re one of the Sem, from across the Kes. I’ve heard many tales about your kind, but this is the first time I’ve ever met one of you in person!”

The green eyes blinked, as if the mind behind them was trying to comprehend what Rinda was saying. Then the little girl shrugged and began to chitter rapidly in a high voice.

Now it was Rinda’s turn to shrug, no matter how hard she tried to make sense of the stream of chatter. It sounded like, ”Suni, suni! Ssem-lacundra-leeku.”

“How would a Sem who lives on the other side of the Kes become a prisoner over here?” Rinda asked, speaking as much to herself as to her companion. The only response was another round of rapid-fire chittering. Rinda considered this for a while, then decided to opt for the most basic form of communication. Pointing to herself, she said, “Rinda, Rinda.”

The reply was immediate. The wildlands girl pointed at her hide-cloaked chest and spoke, a little more slowly this time.

“Suni.”.

Rinda pointed at herself again. “Rinda.” Then she pointed back at her companion. “Suni.” This seemed to please the Sem girl.

“Suni of the Sem,” said Rinda. Though they would not be able to get across much more than this by pointing, Rinda felt that they had made a great breakthrough. Seer that she was, with firsthand knowledge of the timid hearts of young and wild creatures, she sensed ever more deeply how frightened this girl Suni was. She also knew that if she made any sudden movements, or tried to touch the young Sem, the fragile understanding between them would shatter and disappear in an instant.

So when Rinda finally made up her mind to sit down on the bench, she moved excruciatingly slowly, as if she were afraid to disturb the still air itself. The wildlands girl flinched, but soon realized that Rinda meant her no harm. Still, she watched intently until Rinda was sitting. Suni remained standing, her green eyes glittering like a startled torris hare’s, until she saw that Rinda was not going to move any further. Apparently satisfied, she crept to the farthest corner and sat hunched on the floor, her curious eyes still staring at Rinda all the while.

Rinda paid her little mind. The child-princess of Parros was young and bold, but also incredibly tired. She hadn’t gotten a proper night’s sleep during the previous night, nor during the night before it. Just when she had made up her mind to focus her thoughts on what was to come, and the welfare of her brother, the heir to the throne, she found herself feeling quite drowsy. Curling up, she soon fell into a deep sleep.

Rinda slept the sleep of a healthy, very tired girl, which is not easily disturbed by the visitations of demons or, for that matter, the rays of the morning sun. Nonetheless she woke with a start a short time later at the sound of a terrified scream followed by the din of a deadly struggle nearby. She leapt to her feet and, looking around, discovered that the girl Suni was sprawled on the floor of the chamber, fighting for her life against two giant torq rats. Doubtless the vermin had crawled from some hole in the wall in search of dinner and had chosen Suni as the main course!

The sharp fangs of the rats pierced the little girl’s flesh— one on her shoulder, the other at her thigh. Torq rats are the largest of their kin, over two feet in length, and to Rinda they looked more like fierce cats than rodents. To the tiny Sem, who herself measured no more than three feet tall, they were as threatening as ferocious wild dogs were to human children. Each weighed nearly as much as she.

“Hiiih! Hiii!” Suni screamed as she desperately tried to keep the slavering fangs from her throat. “Alphetto! Hiiih!”

Rinda did not stand still for long. Frantically, she looked about for something to use as a weapon, but finding nothing, she jumped down off the bench and with her bare hands grabbed the torq rat that was biting into Suni’s shoulder. Ignoring the horrid feel of the grimy fur in her hands, she yanked as hard as she could and threw the thing against the nearest wall with all her strength. There was a wet crunching sound as the rat’s head cracked against the cold stone. Its lifeless body dropped to the floor.

The other rat moved quickly, letting go of Suni and launching itself through the air at Rinda. Grabbing a nearby chair, Rinda swung it and knocked the beast out of the air. Then she gave chase, smashing at it until she felt the small animal die. A horrible shudder ran through her body.

Quickly she searched on all sides until she was certain that there were no more torq rats sneaking in. Satisfied at last, she dropped the bloodied chair on the floor and stood there, shoulders heaving. Then she noticed Suni sobbing on the floor, picked the little girl up, and hugged her to her breast.

“It’s okay, now. You’re okay.” She patted the little girl’s wild hair. She had often heard that the Sem were an unspeakably dirty and ugly folk, but Suni was neither. She smelled faintly of dried flowers and cured leather.

“Alphetto! Alphetto…” Suni sobbed. Holding on to her little companion, Rinda suddenly felt quite strong, as if she had become a great hero.

“It’s all right, I took care of them.” Rinda patted the Sem girl gently on the back. But then Suni suddenly brushed off her arms, fell to her knees and began kissing Rinda’s booted feet. Rinda was shocked.

“Semama, rakulanee, eeni…Suni, imikul, reeku!”

“What’s that Suni? I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

But what Suni did next was understandable in any language. Reaching behind her neck and undoing the flowery necklace she wore, she reached up with great solemnity and set it around Rinda’s neck. Then she stepped back, a worshipful look in her eyes, and placing her hand on her chest, made a respectful obeisance to her savior. The little girl’s sparkling green eyes and vibrant face expressed her feelings better than any words ever could.

Rinda smiled and raised the necklace to her lips, lightly kissing it in a sign of acceptance, and she curtsied gracefully as would the queen upon greeting an honored guest. Then she waved with her hand, beckoning Suni to sit on the bench beside her.

The two girls sat side by side in the small tower room, each satisfied, feeling that they had achieved some deep level of communication. All thoughts of their predicament and their gloomy surroundings were forgotten for a while. Hand in hand, they began to talk, each more eagerly trying to understand the other’s language.

Thus they sat, utterly engaged in their attempts at communication, until well past the midnight hour, when a ghastly figure soundlessly stepped into the room through a cleverly hidden secret door in the wall behind them.

The knights, garbed all in black, led Guin down the tower steps, but instead of taking him to the large audience chamber to which they had brought the three prisoners before, they pushed him further along down stairs that wound deeper and deeper into the earth below the tower. The stone steps became suddenly steeper, and water dripped from cracks in the walls, making small puddles in hollows in the rock. The staircase wound and twisted on for what seemed like forever, until it opened out into a wider corridor, dark and dank like a cellar, with columns set along the sides.

“Turn right.”

The captain pointed down the right bend of the corridor with his torch. His voice sounded hollow in the chill air, and the knights walked silently, careful not to slip on the slimy floor stones, reluctant to make any noise that could be heard over the steady drip-drip of water falling from the ceiling. The captain’s flickering torchlight shone down the corridor in front of them, startling loathsome torq rats and wandering bats and sending them skittering off to the deeper darkness where the light could not reach them.

It was clear that the knights enjoyed this journey no more than did their captive. Guin heard them whispering the name of Janos whenever a bat went flapping overhead, or cursing when one had the misfortune of running into a spider web. The captain made no effort to silence them.

Guin simply marched forward with his customary giant strides, seeming not to notice his miserable surroundings. The captive appeared more at ease than his captors.

The captain glowered at the leopard-man and made the sign of Janos as the dark corridor suddenly began to rise, returning toward the surface. They had not gone much farther, their iron boots clanging off the cold stone of the floor, when from a shadow behind one of the columns stepped a man in a long black coat, like a wandering spirit. It was with great effort that the Gohran knights swallowed their cries of fear.

“Come, this way.” The Black Count Vanon spoke with a voice like a hollow grave.

He had taken off his armor and had put on in its place a large hooded cloak. Beneath it, Guin could see thin plates of iron, covering his head, face, and hands like bandages. Moving awkwardly, as if he were some kind of giant iron puppet, the count waved to the captain to follow him, keeping his distance from the knights all the same so as not to frighten them. Lurching through the gloom ahead of them, he seemed even more spectral.

“Bring the leopard-man, I have made preparations.”

Following the beckoning specter, the group continued farther down the corridor. At last they entered what apparently was a large underground chamber. Aside from the familiarly styled columns supporting the roof at intervals, the room was almost entirely empty, its walls made of bare stone. The one exception was an assortment of furnishings clustered at the far end that caught the eye and sent chills down the spine of every living man in the room.

A stretching rack, a giant stone brazier, a water tank, a windlass for hanging people upside-down, a whipping post, an iron maiden, and countless other torture devices stood there like some sort of horrid display—trophies of pain. Three slaves stood shackled before them, awaiting orders with expressions that showed no emotion or hope.

The Black Count, without so much as glancing at the horrid collection, walked past with the knights following after him. Guin strode by the devices of torture, seeming unconcerned, pretending to ignore the cloying stench of blood that filled his nostrils. Deep down inside, he was quite happy that he was not to experience the many cruel features of the count’s playthings, at least not today.

It seemed his current destination lay elsewhere. The group followed the Black Count to the far wall, where he stopped before the rock face, laid his hand upon a certain stone, and pushed. The wall split into two halves, creating a short passageway that opened into a large, featureless room beyond.

This new room had neither rack nor executioner’s stand, but what it contained seemed somehow more horrible than either of those things. An animal whine rose from its sole occupant, a creature which stood caged behind iron bars toward the back of the room, its eyes blazing.

“One of the giant simians of Gabul—a grey ape!” said the captain in a voice barely above a whisper, quickly glancing to either side and making the sign of Janos across his breast.

If Guin had not been robbed of his memory, if he knew just how deadly were the grey apes of Gabul, he would not have had to look upon the fangs thrusting from its maw, the knotted muscles of its two powerful arms that could rend a man limb from limb with ease, or the small eyes that burned as though all the demons of hell made their nests within its head, to see that he was doomed. Like all the creations of Doal, the grey ape was a man-eater, with a terrible fondness for playing with its food before ripping and tearing the life from its hapless prey.

But Guin had the benefit of ignorance. All he saw there was a giant, violent beast—a formidable opponent, surely, but a dirty, lowly creature, too. And even if the sight of the creature had terrified him, the leopard mask remained stoic, hiding his reaction from his captors. Some of the knights made the sign of Janos, but others, seeing Guin standing unaffected by the sight before him, felt the stirrings of awe, and not a little distaste at their comrades’ evident cowardice. A knight spat on the stone floor.

As for the Black Count, he seemed rather pleased with his captive’s reaction to the foul beast.

“Into the hall, prisoner.” The count pointed down the stairs that led to the broad stone floor before the ape’s cage.

Guin slowly looked to both sides, as though contemplating whether his chances were better going along with the count’s fiendish plans, or simply flying into a rage then and there against the twenty or so knights. The count stepped back, startled, and the knights turned, threatening Guin with the sharp points of their spears. Guin hunched his powerful shoulders and, avoiding the spears, resumed walking down the stairs.

Seeing the warrior’s acquiescence, the count pushed a spot on the wall again, and the stairs behind them rose up to form a wall, effectively preventing anyone from exiting the chamber. The count pressed another hidden panel, and a small wall rose from the floor between where he stood and the main chamber, creating a sort of gallery as in a coliseum.

“Prisoner. I am going to open the ape’s cage in a few moments,” Vanon announced in a deep voice, taking an hourglass from the folds of his robe and placing it atop the partition wall. “Survive three turns of the glass with your bare hands, and I will throw you a short sword. Survive two more turns, and a broadsword will be yours. The better a warrior you prove to be, the better your chances of survival, for I am a fair lord, and I value a strong fighter. And know this: if you should kill the grey ape with your bare hands alone, I will give you your weight in silver as a reward. Now, show me how you do battle, leopardman!”

The Black Count slowly pressed a final button, and with a loud creaking noise, the gate of the iron cage began to rise.

The great ape of Gabul peered about, disoriented in its newfound freedom. It howled—and then its violent, bloodshot eyes fell on the leopard-headed warrior.

Breathing heavily with anticipation, the great ape turned toward him. There was no escape. Guin would have to fight.