Ken Hood - Demon Rider

"I didn't! I don't control the hob. Montserrat had it warded last night, and you have it warded now, don't you?" Absurdly, Toby was suddenly more frightened than he had been by anything that had happened yet. Oreste was far more dangerous than the Inquisition. Oreste could make him suffer forever.

"I will have the truth, Longdirk!" The baron bared his teeth in fury.

Or in fear? He had obtained the soul of Nevil at last and then lost it again, and Rhym the Fiend was going to be very, very mad about that.

"I will have the truth!" He raised his left hand to his mouth and turned in his dance. " Rigomage per nominem tuum igne et tempestate impero semper veritatem Tobias dicat. Now, Longdirk, tell me how you switched those stones!"

"I didn't."

"Did the hob? Can you control it, talk to it?"

Perhaps if he claimed... Before he could think of a likely lie, the truth spilled from his mouth. "I don't know if the hob did it. I can't control it. Only at Tortosa it seemed to follow my gestures. I talk to it, but I have never seen evidence that it hears me."

A friar stepped out from behind the closest pillar and spun around in a swirl of black robe, saying very rapidly: "Rigomage per nominem tuum igne et tempestate impero Orestes dormet." He took two quick steps to catch the falling baron, then lowered him gently to the floor, where he lay still and snored peacefully.

It had happened so fast that Toby just hung in his chains and gaped. He had apparently been saved from the baron and was now back in the power of the Inquisition, which was a very questionable improvement.

Or perhaps not, because the newcomer's all-black habit was that of a Benedictine monk, not a Dominican friar.

Certainly not, for then he straightened up and threw back his cowl, revealing not a tonsure but a mop of auburn locks. " Campeador ?"

Spirits! "You are a most welcome sight, senor!"

Hopefully he was. Their last meeting had involved Toby's hurling him ignominiously into the mud. Apparently that was not going to be mentioned, for he twirled up the points of his mustache and grinned smugly.

"There is always a sense of satisfaction in lifting a siege." The don stepped over the prostrate baron and peered up at the prisoner's manacles. "You don't have the keys to those rusty things, do you?"

"You could use the demon. My Latin is equally rusty."

"Ah! Of course!" He went through the ritual again, this time commanding, "Tobias liberetur!"

The locks on Toby's wrists and ankles sprang open. He flopped down on the straw to catch his breath. Things were moving very speedily. "Thank you!" He chafed his hands, wincing as they began to throb.

"Thank Rigomagus, not me," the don said cheerily. " 'By fire and storm?' It must be a very minor demon to have such a terse conjuration, don't you think? An odd-job demon? Fortunate, that! If the invocation had been longer and I'd got it wrong, we might have been in serious trouble." He chuckled, being understandably very pleased with himself.

"How did you get here?"

"Just walked in. Oh, from Montserrat, you mean? Well, when I learned what had happened, Francisco and I marched into the basilica and told the tutelary that its decision had been wrong and its actions were unacceptable. It agreed at once and begged us to come and rescue you. When we get back you will be granted sanctuary. It sends its apologies."

Alas! For a few dazzling moments Toby had seen rainbows of hope in the clouds, but obviously the spirit had done nothing to untangle the caballero's wits. His story was all moonshine and dragon turds, because one thing a major tutelary would never do was reverse itself like that, and Montserrat had flatly told Toby it was infallible. He was not even out of the frying pan, let alone the fire, and the addle headed don had jumped right in beside him—a moving gesture, but a suicidal one.

"Apologies? It sells me to the Inquisition and then says it's sorry? How very touching!" Without rising from the straw, Toby reached for his shirt and doublet. Apologies, indeed!

"My attitude entirely, Campeador !" The don turned away to scowl at the paraphernalia on the table. "But it made amends by providing this absurd garment and another one like it for you, which I brought. They are spelled to distract attention—I just walked in here and no one saw me."

Poor deluded fool! No one questioned clerics at the best of times, and besides, Toby had seen him, even if he had mistaken him for a Dominican friar, which was easy enough to do. Getting in and getting out would be unlikely twins, for it was not hard to imagine Captain Diaz's reaction should two Benedictines emerge from the crypt and try to walk past the guard without explaining how they had come to be in there in the first place.

"And of course it offered us horses and some food to eat on the—"

"Us? No! You didn't involve Doña Francisca in this?"

The don spun around, blue eyes glaring madness. "What name do you profane, varlet?" He reached inside his robe, and very obviously he had a sword in there—not his great broadsword but still a lethal weapon.

Toby was on the floor, half dressed, totally vulnerable. "I meant to say..." He was hexed and could not lie. "I should have said 'Senor Francisco,' of course, senor!"

"It sounded as if you named my sainted mother—a lady of paramount nobility and such immaculate reputation that, were you to speak but one idle word of her, I should be forced to cut out your tongue."

"Such was never my intention. I am mortified that my clumsiness distressed you, senor."

"You will receive no other warning." The maniac released his grip on his sword reluctantly.

"Do please continue your inspiring chronicle, which surpasses the ancient tales of chivalry."

Mollified, the don preened and twirled up his mustache. "As it happened, I decided that the journey would fatigue the old man unduly, so I came alone. There is nothing much else to tell. Josep gave me a letter to his steward, so I left Smeòrach at the House of Brusi on the Carrer Montcada and was promised fresh mounts for our return. I put on this absurd garment and walked in here."

He made it sound very easy, but probably no one ever tried to rescue prisoners from the Inquisition—most people would be as frightened of the captives as they were of the friars.

"I admit," Don Ramon said, "that I did not anticipate the baron. He was an unexpected complication, especially when I learned what he was planning."

"I am amazed. Your courage is exceeded only by your modesty, senor!"

"Of course. The first time he invoked the demon, I heard its name, but I did not see the actions. It was fortunate that he invoked it again."

Toby rose. "And how do you propose that we escape from here? There are armed men on the door." Oreste's orders to Captain Diaz had been very specific. "Can we really trust this gramarye of yours to that extent?"

"I no longer expect to escape." Don Ramon frowned down at the sleeping hexer. "By choice, I shall be struck down while battling my way out against overwhelming odds, but that is of little importance. You may take the other robe and depart, because you are only a serf. I am a hidalgo of Castile and must consider my honor. Since this unspeakable hexer has fallen into my power, I cannot refuse the opportunity to slay him. 'Twill be a valorous deed and well worth dying for, but of course I can't do it while he is unconscious. He must know he is going to perish, and at whose hand. As a churl you would not understand."

Toby considered the prostrate hexer and laughed ruefully. "Senor, for years my greatest ambition has been to choke the life out of this monster with my bare hands. Yet, churl though I am, I find I am as helpless as your noble self while he is in this condition."