Reign of Shadows (41 page)

Caelan
faced him. “I will not go back to such a creature. If I am to be whipped for
disobedience, then do so, because I will not—”

“Careful,”
Orlo warned him. “You are an insolent dog, but it is a privilege, a generous
gift, that is provided to condemned men, not an obligation.”

Some
of the tension faded from Caelan. He let out a breath of relief.

“I
do not bargain with slaves,” Orlo said. “Do you understand me? I do not
bargain. But if you will not tell anyone that you saw a haggai, no matter what
tales of pleasure are shared with you on the morrow, then I will quarter you
with the veterans where they do not venture.”

Caelan
was grateful but also surprised. “The veterans don’t—”

“I
didn’t say that!” Orlo broke in irritably. “The veterans have their favorites.
They go down deep into the  catacombs when they wish, but it is by their
choice. The haggai do not seduce or lure them. Only the new fighters, for the
first time.”

Caelan
had more questions, but instinct told him he had pressed his luck far enough. “I
am grateful for your mercy, master.”

“Walk,”
Orlo said gruffly. “As stupid as you are, you’ll be dead by the first round.
Just mind that when you are killed, you do not choose to haunt me. Gault’s
mercy!” He made a swift gesture of supplication and glared at Caelan. “You
should have taken the night of pleasure.”

Elandra
did not
know exactly how long she had remained blind among the Penestrican women, but
she guessed approximately a month had passed.

It
was a hard, silent time of loneliness and self-doubt. She had always heard that
to be blind was to be in the dark, as though one’s eyes could not open. But she
saw no darkness. Only the unending, featureless, glaring white of Hecati’s
revenge. It was more disorienting than Elandra could have imagined; worse, she
thought, than actual darkness. At least the dark was a familiar place. But this
was not.

The
Penestricans had been kind but aloof, making no effort to treat her. She had
been given a room to herself, very small. Eight paces in both directions. That
hardly mattered; she was used to nothing else. The walls were stone but rough.
She had explored them by touch and knew they were natural rock, not dressed
blocks. She suspected she was in a cave. It was very dry and warm, however. A
small hole—too small to crawl through—cut high in one wall brought her fresh
air from outside.

Thus,
she could smell damp and know if it was raining outside. Warm, sun-freshened
air meant daytime. Cool air meant evening.

She
had a stool and small table, a narrow cot, and a shelf to hold a lamp she did
not need. No one ever came to light it. Her only contact with other human
beings was three times a day, when food and fresh water were brought and her
necessity pail taken away for cleaning.

Everything
was clean.

Three
times a week, she was led down a narrow  passageway, placed in a corner, and
doused with water. Her attendant would then swathe her in a rough towel and dry
her while she shivered and gasped. She would be led back to her cell. Nothing
was ever said to her, even if she asked questions.

Her
clothes had been taken away, reminding her strangely of her dream where she had
kissed the mysterious lover and Hecati had walked in her dream. She had no
dreams now, only her thoughts chasing endlessly around and around in her brain.

To
be kept naked at first had seemed the greatest un- kindness of all. She felt
totally vulnerable and dependent, and she had hated them for treating her with
this silent indifference.

In
retaliation she had trained herself not to cringe or try to cover herself
whenever someone came to her room. Finally indifference became a habit, not a
pose. She stopped caring, almost, and it ceased to be a torture. After all, she
was in a place entirely of women. There were never any male voices, never any
male scents. Sometimes, in the stillness of what she assumed was night, she
could hear far- distant chanting echoing through the passageways.

It
was always faint, but some element in it disturbed her and made her restless.
She would get up and pace, back and forth, counting her steps so as not to bump
into the walls, until the chanting would finally fade away altogether.

Idleness
and boredom were the hardest elements to endure. She found herself wishing
Bixia would visit, even if only once, to tell her she’d not been forgotten. But
it was a stupid wish, an absurd wish. Elandra was angry at herself for even
hoping for something like that. Bixia was busy being trained and prepared. She
probably had no time for anything else. Even so, Elandra knew Bixia was too
selfish to come even if she had the opportunity.

Elandra
tried to stay grateful to the Penestricans for not
turning her out as a
cripple. After all, she could not be married like this.

As
always, Hecati had defeated her.

All
her life Elandra had tried to bury her own dreams and ambitions, to never allow
herself high expectations under the guise of being practical. Without
expectations, disappointments hurt less. But for a few short days during her
journey here, she had allowed herself to dream of what life might bring her.
Never had she imagined this fate.

The
shock in her lingered deep.

She
had never been an introspective person, but her confinement forced herself to
explore her own mind. She examined the kind of person she had been until now.
She thought about the kind of person she was becoming.

Not
a self-pitier. She still had enough pride to hold herself together.

Weakness
and dependence were abhorrent to her. She wanted to ask the Penestricans to
train her in some task she could do, to give her anything that had purpose
again. But that chance had not yet come.

A
sound at her door disturbed her thoughts. Ever wary, Elandra rose from her
stool and faced the door. It was not yet time for food. She had had a bath yesterday.
Trapped in the whiteness, she strained with her ears and her sense of smell to
determine who was there.

The
door swung open, creaking slightly on its hinges. Hope lifted in her. Was this
a visitor? Would at last she have someone to talk to?

“Yes?”
she asked eagerly. “Why have you come? Who is there?”

The
woman entered the room without answering. Her footsteps were soft on the stone
floor. Bare feet, Elandra thought. But unlike the usual attendant who hobbled
as though old and who puffed when she walked, this person moved gracefully with
a low, distinctive jingle of earrings.

With
her came a scent of herbs and musk, very faint but pleasing. There was
something familiar yet elusive about her that teased at Elandra’s mind. How
maddening not to recognize what her senses seemed to be telling her.

In
silence, the visitor took Elandra’s hand and tugged.

Elandra
resisted. “Where are you taking me?”

Not
answering, the visitor tugged again.

Anger
tangled with frustration inside Elandra. “I don’t understand why I am treated
so. Why won’t you answer my questions? Must I be punished for having been
spell- burned?”

The
visitor tugged harder, pulling her forward.

Elandra
gave up the useless questions and stumbled along. Tears burned her eyes, but
she refused to let them fall. She wasn’t going to let anyone see her hurt and
confusion. Blind or not, she was still the daughter of Albain. She wouldn’t beg
for their mercy.

There
were fourteen steps from Elandra’s door left along a passageway, then a turn to
the right and thirty-nine steps to the bathing room.

Today,
however, they turned left twice. Suddenly Elandra was lost and disoriented.

She
slowed down, using her free hand to feel along the wall. The woman leading her
kept tugging at her to go faster. Elandra’s uncertainty grew, and with it came
fear.

Quickly
she squelched that emotion. She must not let them think she was scared. If
anything, she must bide her time until she could figure out a way to get word
to her father. No doubt the Penestricans had concealed her fate, fearing Albain’s
blame in the matter. But Elandra did not intend to stay here imprisoned and
forgotten like some charity case, if she could help it.

“I
wish to speak to the Magria,” she said now. “If you are not permitted to speak
to me, fine. Only have mercy on my plight and give my message to her. My father
is Lord Albain. He will come for me and take me off your hands if only he is
informed of what has happened. Will you tell the Magria this? Please?”

The
woman said nothing, only tugged at her to hurry.

Sighing,
Elandra bumped into the wall and righted herself. Where were they going?

They
turned again. The floor was very rough and uneven beneath Elandra’s bare feet;
then its surface grew smoother. Strange scents came to her: pungent odors of
herbs, cedar, and rodents. The air against her face grew progressively warmer
and drier.

The
woman escorting her stopped in front of her without warning. Elandra bumped
into her and heard a hiss of anger. She was shoved back with a rough hand.

Before
Elandra could react, her arm was gripped above the elbow, and she was pulled
forward, then stopped.

Confused,
Elandra hesitated. The same action was repeated. This time, her foot stumbled
down a step. Understanding flooded her.

“Steps,”
she said aloud. “Very well.”

Slowly
she made her way down a whole series of steps, her hand on the woman’s
shoulder. “It would help,” she said, “if you would tell me how many steps there
are.”

The
woman said nothing.

Annoyed,
Elandra clamped her lips together. This rule of silence was both cruel and
absurd. She might be blind, but she wasn’t deaf or stupid. She would not ask
again.

They
passed through a doorway and entered a place that was extremely hot.

The
temperature made Elandra gasp. Perspiration broke, out across her face, and she
wiped her brow with the back of her hand. Already the heat seemed to be sapping
her energy. She could not imagine where she was, unless it was a kitchen, yet
she heard no sounds of activity and smelled no food cooking.

The
woman pulled her up one shallow step, then along a smooth floor of cut stone.
Only five steps; then the woman turned around to face her and pushed her
shoulders until Elandra sat down.

Even
the stone felt warm when she sat on it. The heat was intense, radiating into
her from all sides. Wiping her face again, Elandra lifted her head, tilting it
to catch any nuance of sound that might help her understand where she was and
what was happening.

She
smelled burning wood, and heard a low crackle of fire. There were many other
scents she could not identify.

The
woman circled her and left the way they’d come.

When
the faint patter of her footfalls faded and there was only silence, Elandra
frowned. She extended her arms and touched only air. For an instant she thought
she heard a faint rustle, but she decided it was her imagination.

Still,
she had the growing suspicion she was not alone. Was she being observed? It was
unpleasant to think she might be entertaining some watcher with her gropings
and explorations.

Frowning
more deeply, she folded her hands in her lap and waited.

Nothing
changed.

At
last she rose to her feet, paused until she had her balance, and slid one foot
forward.

The
stone ended abruptly half a stride away. She swept her toes back and forth
along the edge of the pavement, then made a quarter turn and slid her foot
forward. Almost immediately she felt the edge.

She
made another quarter turn and found no end to the stone. That had been the way
she’d entered.

Another
quarter turn, and she found a nearby edge.

Another
quarter turn, and she was once again facing the direction in which the
attendant had left her.

Elandra
did not intend to step off blindly into thin air. She turned around and started
back the way she’d come.