The Prodigal Troll (47 page)

"I saw it," Romy said from the doorway. "I had to speak the truth, Captain Bran. I saw you spare his life."

"The truth is that the two of you worked together during the hunt," Acrysy interjected. "You gave this peasant access to the campyou posted the guards after all, and how else could he get past the walls without your help?-so that he could assault Lady Portia, and commit his vile affront upon her."

"I did no such thing," Bran said.

Sebius reached out to caress the side of Bran's face. "But it was so convenient to blame you for everything when we thought you dead. You sabotaged the hunting party and ruined the wedding. You betrayed our war plans to the peasants, giving them their brief victory and escape."

Bran's chin hit his chest.

"If I could have blamed the floods on you," Sebius's voice said softly, "my darling boy, I would have done that also."

"The spring floods or the fall flood coming?" Bran asked, trying to pull his head away and bumping into the wall.

Sebius laughed. "Both. It will be a very hard winter, and the people will need someone to blame, some distraction."

"Blame them both on me, then," Bran said. "Call it the consequence of some sacrilege I performed to the demon gods of the peasants. I'll take credit for it all. You will have your scapegoat and your spectacle to appease the hungry crowds."

"You'd do that?"

"If you set free my friend, yes."

Maggot shook his head. He would not leave without Bran. But Bran didn't notice.

"You see, Acrysy!" Sebius stepped back and raised his hand up in the air, smiling, his teeth shining. "You see what kind of loyalty he has? He serves me still, gives me exactly what I wish and seeks to benefit his friend as well. It takes years to reap a crop like that; a length of time measured out in strings of pearls would not be worth as much."

Acrysy crossed his arms.

Sebius laughed at him, and embraced Bran, who stood there limply. "The crops cannot be harvested with the ground like this, and everyone is gathered in the city already for fear of the uprising. Conveniently, I have convinced my beloved brother to move up the Dance of Masks and Costumes for the Feast of Bwnte, and this has diverted their attention from the double disaster. When I see him, I shall essay to discover his reaction to the possibility that you are alive and well."

"And my friend? He is not one of the peasants. He saved my life when they would have burned me."

Sebius smiled again. "Your friend may not be a peasant, but he dresses like one and fought with them. Too many saw him in battle and heard his weirdling cry. It put fear in their hearts. No, your friend will fight his last battle against the splitting pole. His cry shall have a different keen on it then, and the soldiers will forget their fears as they cheer his death."

"But Portia, Lady Eleuate-"

"Exactly. And then Portia. All the more reason to kill him quickly. I shall apologize deeply for the error, after."

Maggot flexed on the balls of his feet, tugging his wrists against his bonds. He would die fighting before he submitted to the fate suffered by Damaqua, his advisor, or the wizard.

"Must we wait?" Acrysy asked, eyeing Maggot with a mixture of fear and contempt. "If we split him at noon, he might still be squirming when the dance begins tonight."

"Patience, my young friend." Sebius stepped toward the door, putting his hand on Acrysy's shoulder to send him ahead. "We would not want to ruin anyone's appetite for the feast. Let them eat while they can; save the next spectacle to distract them from their hunger after the bad harvest." He turned his head. "And after that much time, it will be easier to remind everyone that it's the Wyndans we blame and not some poor, maligned, barefoot shepherd boy become a knight."

"Wait," Bran cried, stepping toward the eunuch.

The soldier in the corner thrust the spear at him.

Sebius stopped on the threshold of the door. "What is it, shepherd boy? Have you lost your sheep?"

"Send something for us to eat and drink."

"Drink? Drink, we can give you." He stared out into the hall and up the dark stairs. "All the water you want, before we drown in it. Will that suffice? Romy?"

"Yes, m'lady?" Romy answered beyond the door.

"When you think of it, stick a bucket outside in the rain. A clean bucket, mind, and nothing that's been used for a bedpan. When it's full, bring it down here for the comfort of our guests."

"Yes, m'lady."

"Sebius," Bran said, very softly. "Food."

Sebius released a long, exaggerated sigh. "Romy?"

"Yes, m'lady?"

"This rain so thoroughly soaks the ground that it drives the rats up out of their holes and they frighten the good ladies of the city. When it's convenient for you, take some men into the city and catch some rats. Some big, fat ones, mind. Be careful not to make them angry, or anything like that; then set them loose in the cell here. Alive, mind."

"Yes, m'lord."

Acrysy cackled.

"There you go, Bran," the eunuch said. "If you continue to be so tiresome, I may reconsider my decision and choose not to spare you after all." He wiped a drop of sweat off his forehead with the middle finger of his left hand. "I'm so exhausted by this interview that I may forget to lay the groundwork tonight, and simply relax, and enjoy myself instead. Will you thank me three times for every rat you catch and eat?"

Bran spit on the floor-Maggot wondered how he could with his mouth so dry-once, twice, thrice. "I thank you three times."

"Insults, insults." He took the torch from the holder just outside the open door. "Come, Acrysy."

Maggot jumped the guard in the corner, swinging his bound hands up to knock aside the spear. As his hands slid along the shaft, the guard turned it sideways and drove the butt against Maggot's temple, knocking him to the ground. Maggot heard his laughter, followed by the hard metal clunk of the door bolt.

aggot inhaled. The air was heavy with the residue of smoke and oil, the eunuch's perfume, and the meaty stink of the soldiers. Bran was kneeling on the floor beside him.

"Are you hurt?" he asked.

"No," Maggot said. He had managed to scrape the ropes briefly on the blade of the spear, but not enough to slice clean through. "And you?"

"Nothing important, only my pride. When you serve someone loyally, you expect that loyalty returned."

Maggot rolled back to his feet and crawled over to the nub of broken stone to resume his attack on the ropes.

"I misjudged her," said Bran. "Judging men has always been my virtue, one of the reasons I was made knight, then captain. But I misjudged the lot of them. I didn't expect Romy to follow Acrysy's orders over his loyalty to me."

Virtue, Virtue, loyalty-more unfamiliar words. "Why do they do that, Bran?"

"Do what?"

"Why do your people do what other people tell them? Giants"He used the word from Sinnglas's language-"do each as they see fit, or vote for the common good. Even Sinnglas's people reach agreement or follow different paths."

Bran paced, kicking the door. "The strong lead and the weak must follow; that is the way of the world. If they do not go willingly, they must be driven."

"What willingly is there if they are to be beaten or killed? It is not good, Bran. I do not like the ways of your people. I do not think I want to stay among you." The rope abraded quickly against the stone, his wrists pulling apart.

"You have not seen us at our best. Baron Culufre is a good, just man. He will set things right."

"You said the same thing of the eunuch." The first strand of rope severed, and the rest fell loose. Tingling pain flooded into Maggot's fingers. "Here, let me untie your hands."

"Give us a chance-What?"

Maggot rose and went to Bran, and began unknotting his bonds. "Can you hold your hands a little higher?"

"But how did you get free?" Bran asked, lifting his hands.

"I cut the ropes on the stone, the sharp edges."

"And said nothing?"

"You didn't seem interested."

"Al! I'm an awful judge of men!"

Maggot's fingers, though numb, worked out the knots by touch. He started unwinding the rope from Bran's wrists.

"By two gods, that hurts," said Bran. He shook his fingers, slapping his palms against his thighs. "But the hurt itself is a muchneeded balm. When Romy comes back with either our water or our rats-rats! do you believe that?-we'll jump him. You can stand over there on the far wall, where he can see you, and I'll hide in the corner there by the door."

Maggot's hand found the rawhide pouch at his throat. He had been saving it to give to the woman-to Portia-but she wasn't here, and if he didn't get free, he might never see her. He could find another gift to show his interest.

"Perhaps we need not wait so long," he said. "What will happen if I break the wizard's charm? Perhaps the walls will break if the earth shakes again."

"Again? Romy mentioned an earthquake-"

"I had two charms like this one. I broke the other in Damaqua's village when I wanted to take you away from Sinnglas. The earth shook, knocking us all to the ground."

Bran whistled in the dark. Then quietly, "The worst that could happen is nothing."

"And then we could still use your plan," Maggot said.

"Maybe you should save it. We'll have other chances to escape, if we are patient. If our hands weren't tied, we could have taken Sebius hostage and bargained our way out."

"No," Maggot said. His fingers shook as they unknotted the bag and withdrew the teardrop charm. He closed his fist on it, watching it glow through his skin. "I am tired of letting others choose the path I follow."

He held it up, needing to close both hands on it to make it snap. The big, wet pop sounded like a stalactite falling in an underground lake. The glass dissolved, flaring up in a bright green flash, lush like a hillside in spring, illuminating their little cell with a lightning's flash. Maggot saw Bran very clearly, for a split second, his face worried, rubbing feeling into his hands. And then nothing.

Neither man said anything for some time.

Bran cleared his throat. "Did you do it right?"

"I think so. How else should I have done it?"

"You're the wizard."