David Drake - The Gods Return

Mostly she judged people to be weak, treacherous and stupid, of course, but Usun was an exception. The little man gave a muted screech and fell silent, though he continued to spin the loop of sinew.

Shadows swelled across the crystal, blotting out first the background and then Brincisa herself in the center. "Now, Ilna," Usun said. He was drawing in deep breaths. "It's prepared. Step through the Eye." It looks like a slab of polished stone… Ilna strode into the crystal. Many handfuls of candles made Brincisa's workroom a flood of light to eyes adapted to the blue dimness of the cave. Ilna raised her pattern. Brincisa threw her left arm in front of her face; her baggy lace sleeve distorted the knotted fabric that was meant to paralyze her. Something swished behind Ilna. Snap!/thunk! A pebble bounced from Brincisa's scalp. She flung her arms wide and toppled backward. The stone that'd felled her ricocheted off the far wall, breaking a divot from the fresco. It left a spot of blood against the sudden whiteness.

Ilna tucked the pattern into her sleeve and bent over Brincisa, jerking off her belt of braided leather. The strands were dyed black and each had a separate golden nib; despite the ornamentation, it seemed sturdy enough. Ilna flopped the wizard on her belly and tied her wrists securely behind her back with the belt. Usun hopped onto a table with a top of polished cedar, carried on three bronze legs cast into the form of elongated demons. "My, look at the artifacts of power," he said, surveying the room. "She and Hutton had ages to gather them, of course. Though there's nothing-" He tittered as he wrapped the sinew he'd used as a sling around his waist again. It didn't have a pocket, so he must balance each missile on the heart of the loop. "-nearly as wonderful as I myself am. Which is why Brincisa sent you to fetch me, you see." Ilna grimaced at the boasting, though it might well be true. Certainly she would've had a more difficult-and probably fatal-time in the cave if it weren't for the little man's help and guidance. Ingens stood between an upright mummy case and a black stone carved to look like a leering human with breasts and a prominent male member. It had once been a pillar, but it wasn't supporting anything here. Ilna's lip curled in disgust as she walked over to Ingens. His eyes were open but lifeless, and his cheek felt cold to her fingertips. Usun hopped down from the table. He grabbed Brincisa's big toe through her openwork sandals and twisted hard. She yelped in surprise and jerked her foot away. By throwing her torso forward, she managed to sit upright and curl her feet under her. The little man put his hands on his hips. His posturing should've looked silly, but Ilna got the impression of a much larger figure standing in Usun's place. "You thought you'd use me like you do that statue of Thrasaidon, did you, Mistress Brincisa?" he said, nodding to the black pillar. "Because Hutton used me, you thought you could?" He laughed like an angry wren. "Hutton would've made a mistake one day too, you know," he said. "He's meat in the belly of a dead ghoul now, but he's better off than he would've been if it'd been me who repaid him. And you thought to use Mistress Ilna as well!" "What do you want from me?"

Brincisa asked. Ilna couldn't hear any emotion in the words-not even resignation. It was like hearing the statue speak. "I'd as lief have put that stone through your head, you know," the little man said. "If I'd had a proper lead bullet, that's what I'd have done. You're lucky it was only a pebble from a stream." "What do you want?" Brincisa repeated in the same calm, empty voice. "Release Ingens," Ilna said.

She was reducing the pattern to lengths of yarn, now that she had leisure to do so. "You can do that, can't you?" "Yes," said Brincisa, glancing toward Usun. "But you'll have to untie my hands. I won't make trouble for you." "No," said Ilna, squatting behind the other woman.

Her fingers pulled and twisted, a deceptively simple movement which loosed the knot that a strong man couldn't have broken. "You certainly won't." Brincisa stood up carefully, then touched fingertips to her head. Her hair was matted with blood, but it'd begun to clot into a mass that was probably as good as a lint bandage. Either the wizard agreed with Ilna's dismissive judgment on the injury or she rightly assumed that her wishes didn't matter, because she turned to Ingens without commenting about her head. She touched the secretary's forehead with the fingers which had explored her scalp and said,

"Cmouch arou rou!" Ingens cried, "Wah!" and threw up his hands to ward off something that only existed in his memory. Brincisa folded her arms and turned to Ilna. "Are you all right, Master Ingens?" Ilna said. He certainly looked all right. Ingens patted his cheeks in wonder. The wizard's touch had left two dabs of blood on his forehead.

"How did I get back here?" he said. "I was-weren't we on top of the mountain? Or did I dream that?" "Mistress Ilna," Brincisa said calmly.

"I told you I would send you and your companion here-" She nodded toward Ingens with a look of distaste. "-to the place where the man you're seeking disappeared. Let me do that now." "I don't trust you, mistress," Ilna said. She stared at Brincisa. The wizard's lips tightened but she didn't flinch. "I didn't trust you even before you betrayed me." "All I want now," Brincisa said, "is to send you on your way. I'll help you go anywhere you wish, just to have you away from here. I'll save you weeks in your search for Master Hervir." "There's a way," Usun said. He twirled the coil of fine hair that had bound the box to Hutton's torso. They looked at him. "Now, I wouldn't mind stretching my legs," the little man said. "I've spent a long time in that casket, a very long time. Cutting Brincisa's throat and hiking north to this village would be fine with me. But-" He caught the coil and held it up. The candles waked not only gold but rainbows from the heart of each strand. "-if you tie one end of this around Brincisa's neck and hold the other, then you'll be able to pull her into the place she's sent us. And if that's a bad place, so much the worse for her." Ingens frowned. "Can't she just untie it herself?" he said. Ilna gave him a cold glance. "No," she said. "Not if I've tied it."

Brincisa shrugged; her face was still as wax. "I'm in your power," she said. "If getting free of you means wearing a hair of the Lady around my neck for the rest of my life, then I'll do that." A flash of fiercer emotion transformed her face, but only for an instant. "I'm not trying to bargain," she said. "I know I have nothing to bargain with. I'll help you in any way you wish. To keep you from killing me, which would gain you nothing." "Nothing?" said Usun. He cocked a tiny eyebrow. "Well, there'd be satisfaction in killing you, mistress." "I don't take any particular satisfaction in killing things," Ilna said, making up her mind as she spoke. "Give me the line, Master Usun." The little man tossed her the coil. "No satisfaction?" he said. "Perhaps.

But you've never hesitated to kill when you needed to, have you?"

Brincisa lifted her chin for Ilna to loop the shining filament around her neck. Ilna's fingers danced in a pattern that dazzled her even as she created it. "I've never hesitated to do anything that I needed to," she said quietly. "Anything at all." *** Sharina shot upright in bed. She'd been sleeping dreamlessly, as she had every night since Burne took up his patrolling, but these screams- Another scream ripped the heart out of the night. It reminded her of the day a rabbit had leapt onto a sharp stake and spitted itself in the kitchen garden of the inn, but this was much louder. -would wake the dead. She drew the Pewle knife and started for the door. She didn't bother to put on slippers-in Barca's Hamlet she'd gone barefoot every year till the ground froze-nor with any garment beyond her sleeping tunic. It was modest enough in cut, and propriety didn't count for much when someone was being disemboweled nearby. Diora stood by the door, holding the lamp that burned in her sleeping alcove through the night. "Mistress?" she said, her voice rising. "Stay here," Sharina said, taking the lamp out of the maid's hand. "I'll be back." Burne was perched on an unlighted sconce. He dropped onto her shoulder, saying, "Some clod will trample me if I'm running about on the floor." "Let's go," Sharina snapped to the under-captain commanding the guards in the corridor. "And Burne, a little warning before you jump on me might help us both live longer lives." "Your highness?" said the officer as Sharina trotted down the corridor in the middle of a cocoon of black-armored guards. "Do you know what's going on? Ah, just so that we can be prepared for, ah, whatever it is." "I don't," said Sharina. "I think it's on the floor below." They started down the west staircase. It was narrow and unembellished, meant for servants. The Blood Eagles wore plain soles instead of hobnails while they were on duty in the palace, but their boots slapped and banged on the wooden treads. "The cells are in the cellars on this end," said one of the troopers. "The ones Lady Liane's people use. They're convincing somebody who didn't want to talk, I'll wager." "They'd better not be!" said Sharina. She wasn't squeamish, but she'd given orders that Platt was to be transported to Tenoctris.