Robert Adams - The Patrimony

Iktis pulled Neeka by main force along with him. “Snap out of it, girl! It will be far better for us both not to be on the street when those armored barbarians get here. True, we could flee toward the docks, but we’d be seen by these, certainly, and possibly run into another patrol down there, as well. But just let me get into the cellars and they’ll never find us.”

Leaving Neeka on the stairs for a moment, he turned back to Djoy. Planting a foot to steady her, he drew the hanger out, draw-cutting downward, his face twisted with the disgust and rage which had so long seethed within him.

Inside the foyer, Iktis slammed the heavy, iron-banded oak door and dropped the three hinged bars in place, after shooting home the thick iron bolts. “Lucky for us,” he mindspoke, “that these ancient buildings are constructed like little fortresses. It’ll take those guards a considerable time to knock down this door, and there’re no windows on the front or the sides, so neither Neel nor Hohp Leebos will have any idea what happened out there. Come on, the quicker we get downstairs, the better.”

But it was not to be so easily accomplished. Neeka had but barely gotten out of sight under the front stairs when Hohp appeared at the head of them, her hair disheveled and her eyes heavy and swollen with sleep. But those eyes popped open wide when she saw Iktis, who had caught the fringes of the initial spray of Stoo’s blood, had had more rub off on him as he manhandled Neeka into the house and was gripping the gory hanger just pulled out of his former employer.

“ Neel !” The tall redhead screamed in alarm. Then, “What happened, Iktis? Whatall’s going on out there?”

“Go to the head of the cellar stairs, child,” Iktis quickly mindspoke. “Shut the door behind you and stay there until I join you.”

Neel had come up behind Hohp, stark naked, but with a lead-filled leather cosh in one hand and a wide-bladed dirk in the other. “What’n shit’s goin’ awn, Iktis? Soun’s like they skinnin’ some bastid out there.” He referred to Pawl Froh’s screams, hoarser now, but still audible even through the stone walls and thick door.

“Guardthmen and tholdierth!” lisped Iktis, excitedly. “They theemed to think we all had thomething to do with the murder of Komeeth Pehtroth. They’ve already cut down Thtoo and Alik and that hunchback. Before Lady Djoy fell, the thaid to bar the front door and get everybody out through the thtable tunnel. If the can talk or buy her way out of it, the’ll join uth at her warehouth. Hohp, you get the girlth up and drethed and out Neel, you get the thtrongbokth out of Lady Djoy’th bedroom. I’m going down and thlit that new-bought girl’th gullet, then I’ll meet you there.”

There might have been questions, save that fists and sword pommels bad already begun to hammer at the barred and bolted door, and, rising above the tumult, an authoritative voice could be heard shouting for a timber suitable for use as a battering ram. Hohp whirled about and began to open doors and scream orders to the sleepy whores.

After hurriedly wiping his blood-dripping blade on the rich samite draping the entrance to the front parlor, Iktis sheathed it and raced down the hall to the cellar door. He and Neeka descended the broad steps, their way lit by another of those large, chain-hung brass lamps that Neeka remembered had lit the cellar room to which she had been confined during her brief stay here, years back. All the rank of doors facing them at the foot of the steps were identical—thick, iron-studded and ironbound, and each wide enough to allow, when opened, the passage of a rolling wine tun or a barrel of pickled turnips or cabbage.

Without hesitation, Iktis strode to the third door from the right and inserted an iron key into the big padlock, then waved Neeka through the opened door. Immediately, Neeka became aware that they were not alone down here, for she could hear the whimpering sobs of a woman somewhere ahead. The passage, for all its darkness, seemed vaguely familiar, and, when they emerged into the stone-paved room full of huge, age-darkened wine casks, kegs and shelves of jugs and bottles, she knew where she was. Iktis had lingered to secure the door behind them; now he strode past her to the high, open-topped cell built into the corner, jerked back the bar and flung wide the door.

At the first sound of the bolt, the occupant of the cell began to scream. Iktis stood for a moment, then turned and beckoned to Neeka. “I’d thought to take her out of here with us, but she’s hysterical, and with cause. Stoo and Neel and Alik were at her early this morning so I haven’t the heart to hit her.” He mindspoke. “She’s an Ahrmehnee girl, but she speaks both Ehleeneekos and Mehrikan, as well. See if you can calm her down while I open the passage.”

The naked girl who had flattened herself against the stone wall in the farthest corner of the cell was as tall as Neeka, though she seemed barely pubescent. Both her long-lashed eyes were blackened and her face was swollen and discolored, while her olive-skinned body was one mass of welts, bruises, abrasions and scratches from neck to knees. Neeka felt ill; this poor child could have been her, but for brave Iktis.

She tried in vain to establish mindspeak communication with the girl. If the Ahrmehnee was a mindspeaker, she was too upset to use the talent; nonetheless, Neeka continued to beam a meaningless but soothing reassurance which did have its effect. By the time Iktis beamed that the passage was clear, the girl, trembling like a foundering horse, sat beside Neeka on the narrow bed, enfolded in her arms and sobbing on her breast.

There was nothing whatsoever in the cell, save its furnishings and a pair of felt boots, so Neeka wrapped her own blood-sticky cloak around the girl’s abused body, gently laid her back on the bed, then tried the boots on her. They fitted perfectly. Supporting the stumbling girl, she led her out of the cell to where Iktis had removed the center of what had looked to be a solid brick hearth to disclose a trapdoor of rust-pitted iron.

The Ahrmehnee had come that far quietly enough, but when her eyes lit upon Iktis, she began to whimper again and weakly resist Neeka’s efforts to lead her forward. The closer Neeka’s efforts brought her to the impatiently waiting bravo, the louder became her wordless cries and the more violent her struggles. Finally, Iktis shook his head.

Silently, he beamed, “There’s no hope for it, child. Turn her around, I don’t want to hit her face.”

Neeka obeyed him, watching over her shoulder, but saw only a blur of movement of his hand and arm. She felt the shock of the blow through the girl’s body, heard Iktis’ low grunt, then was forced to release her hold lest the cloaked body pull her down too.

The pock-faced little man shook his head once more. “I’d like to leave her here, but those damned lustful guardsmen would likely take her for a whore and gang-rape her. Besides, she’s seen that trapdoor, and the fewer folk know of these ways, the better.”

Above their heads, the hanging lamps swayed and the flames danced to the regular, heavy thumps of a timber being hard-swung against the street door of the bordello. There were no other sounds; apparently the occupants had all made good their escape.

Each carrying a smoky torch, Iktis burdened as well with the unconscious girl, he and Neeka shivered in the chill of the dank, slippery passage. “Aye, it’s cold and damp enough at any season. Still I’d rather be here in fall or winter, for there’re no snakes now.”

“What is this tunnel?” queried Neeka silently to save breath. “A smugglers’ way?”

“Yes, smugglers and such often make use of some of them, child,” he answered, “but they didn’t build them. Parts of these ways, the round, dirt-floored parts, are so ancient that no one knows just who did build them. They were here when the first Ehleenee came and raised the city that stood before Esmithpolisport and were discovered by the men excavating foundations for the city walls and for houses. In those days, many tons of iron, brass, copper and lead were brought up from them, but there’s little of it left now. Only a few of those curious round iron trapdoors remain unscavenged.”