Brooks, Terry - High Druid's Blade - The Defenders of Shannara (9780345540713)

She felt a chill sweep through her, but managed to keep from showing what she was feeling. “You made that threat before. This is probably the best someone like you can do. A girl chained to the bed is the only way you’ll ever get close to any woman.”

He pursed his lips, a sneer forming. “Or in your case, any girl. But don’t worry. I won’t do anything to you. I won’t make you work in the pleasure stalls or scrub the floors or service my guards. That’s not for you. I want you in perfect shape for when your brother comes to trade for you.”

She stared at him, the pieces suddenly coming together. “You want his sword. That’s what you were after before, but you didn’t get it. So you are still trying, aren’t you? Me for the sword—that’s the bargain you’re hoping to make.”

The hawkish features tightened. “The bargain I will make, Chrysallin. Your brother will give anything to get you back in one piece. Only this time I won’t be caught off guard by his promises. And you won’t be taken away quite so easily. This time things will be a little different.”

She gave him a look, her resolve tightening. “Can you hurry it up? Or can you at least give me some clothes and take off these chains? How much trouble do you think a fifteen-year-old girl can be?”

“I’m not sure I want to find out. Chained to this bed and stripped of clothes, I don’t think you can be much trouble at all. Dressed and let loose, perhaps a whole lot.”

She searched her mind for an argument. “I have to eat and bathe and use the chamber pot or things will get really unpleasant. What if I give you my word I won’t try to escape? What if I promise to wait until Paxon has a chance to come get me?”

Arcannen gave her a long, searching look and shrugged. “Not that I think you would keep your word for one minute, but you have a point about personal hygiene. Maybe we can reach a compromise.”

He agreed to give her back her clothes and release all the chains but one clamped about her ankle, which would allow her to move about without leaving the room. Food and drink and water with which to bathe would be supplied. Guards would stand watch, but only come in to bring what she needed to eat and wash. She would give her word to stay put until he heard something from her brother.

She agreed readily—although he was right in supposing she didn’t for one minute intend to keep her word about not trying to escape. He knew it, and she knew it. That wasn’t how this game was played. If he wasn’t putting her into the pleasure stalls or otherwise misusing her, he must consider her well-being important enough not to risk causing her harm.

“Of course, if you misbehave after enjoying my generosity of spirit, I will have to change the way I do things. Your living conditions could take a change for the worse rather quickly.”

“What is it about that old sword?” she asked, ignoring him as he waited for her response to his threat. “Why is it so important to you?”

He shook his head. “Didn’t your brother tell you? He didn’t, I see. So why should I? Ask him when you see him. Ask him why he thinks I have gone to all this trouble to get hold of it. There’s a mystery for you to solve, Chrysallin-of-the-many-questions. Why didn’t I just steal it from you in the first place and have done with it? You don’t have the faintest idea, do you?”

“No,” she admitted.

He grinned wickedly. “If you change your mind about working here, just let the guards know. One of them will be in shortly to bring you clean clothes and release you from your chains. Behave yourself when he does.”

Then he patted her arm, rose from the bed, and went out the door, locking it behind him.

He did not go far. Just down the hall and around the corner. Mischa was waiting in the shadows of an alcove leading to an outside balcony, eyes glittering with anticipation. “Is it done?”

He nodded. “I will tell the guard to bring her clothes and release her chains. All but the one that secures her ankle. Not that it will hold her for long. She will be out of it inside an hour. That girl is smart and determined. Are you sure this will work?”

“She is a better subject with those qualities than if she were slow-witted. She will be molded as you intend. She will become what you wish. A week’s time, no more. Do you leave for Arishaig?”

“Tonight. Make sure you intercept her. Take her where you wish, but take her quickly.” He paused. “And Mischa. Don’t underestimate her.”

The smile Mischa gave him was chilling. “She is no match for me, Arcannen. And you should know that I never underestimate anyone. So don’t forget the terms of our agreement. I would be sad if you did, but you would be even sadder.”

He stared at her a moment. “Threats now, is it? Just be certain you keep your end of the bargain.”

Then he turned from her and continued on his way.

Arcannen had barely finished closing the door before Chrysallin was thinking of ways to escape. A single ankle chain and a lock on the door: Free herself of those and she was on her way home. The sorcerer was so smug, so convinced of his superiority over a fifteen-year-old girl that he believed her cowed. Or at least, he was convinced she would be unable to outwit him. Well, he was in for a surprise. She had no intention of waiting around for Paxon to come get her. She would be out of here and off to find him long before coming for her was necessary.

She lay back, thinking of Arcannen’s face when he found her gone, imagining his rage. It made her want to laugh. It was too bad she couldn’t be there to see it. But she brushed these images aside, reminding herself she wasn’t free yet and that there were still obstacles to be overcome before she could take time to enjoy fantasies of Arcannen’s unhappiness.

It wasn’t long before the door opened again and a guard appeared with her clothes. He dumped them at the foot of her bed, released the locks and chains that bound her wrists—leaving the ankle chain in place—and departed without a word. She sat up and spent several minutes massaging her wrists, then slipped out from under the sheets and started to dress. Right away, she faced a problem. With a chain and cuff still fastened about her ankle, she couldn’t put on her pants. Instead, she had to settle for slipping into her tunic and tying the sheet about her waist to use as a makeshift skirt.

Then she sat back down on the bed and felt carefully along the waistband of her pants until she found the tiny metal pick. Long and straight except where it curved at one end, it was a tool she always carried with her. Picking locks of one sort or another had become something of a specialty, although in this case it was more important than usual. Arcannen had left the lights on, so boosting her ankle and chain onto the bed provided her with enough light to pick the lock. It took her less than five minutes to free herself. Discarding the sheet, she pulled on her pants and boots, tucked the pick back into her waistband, and walked over to the door.

She stood there listening for a time, then carefully tried the handle.

Locked.

She looked around the room. What she needed was a weapon, but there wasn’t anything at hand that would serve the purpose. She thought momentarily about the chain that had secured her ankle, but it was linked to a ring in the floor—and besides, it was too heavy for her to wield effectively. What she needed was some sort of club.

She looked around. There was not a stick of furniture in the room save for the bed, and the frame was metal.

Her jaw tightened.

She was not giving up.

Walking back to the door, she put her ear against the frame and listened through the crack. Nothing. She waited a moment, and then she knocked and called out, “Hey, can you come here a minute? I need help!”