Cobweb Empire (11 page)

That they had been betrayed so unspeakably
by one of the own, none other than the blandly complacent
Ignacia—who, it must now be admitted, merely parroted them and
their wit and vivacity—was a shock that still lingered between
them. After Ignaica had made the revelation of her true nature and
purpose before that brute Duke Hoarfrost whose “hospitality” they
now enjoyed, they were forcibly separated from Amaryllis’s Curricle
of Doom and its team of splendid thoroughbreds. Amaryllis was
limping from her sprained ankle, and Nathan assisted her in his
best gentlemanly fashion, despite the gruesome undead soldiers
shoving them every few steps along the iced and slippery
cobblestones. They were led through a wintry sludge-covered
courtyard and then indoors, then through a winding hive of
corridors of the old Keep, directly up to the doors of this
solitary chamber. They were shoved inside, the door locked and
bolted, and then, in the twilight, they had lost all track of
time.

For the first hour, Amaryllis refused to
even touch her cot much less sit on it, or—God forbid—lie down,
calling it “unfit for humanity” and the faded wool blanket
“distasteful rags.” She stood stubbornly leaning against the wall,
pale and near-faint with exhaustion, yet expecting any moment to be
called forth and relocated to better quarters, or in the least,
expecting a personal visit from the Duke. However, no one came, and
moments turned to hours. Amaryllis had to sit and rest her injured
ankle, but only after Nathan first spread her burgundy winter cape
on top of the servant’s blanket, repeating the same with the other
cot upon which he spread his own dark and expensive winter
greatcoat.

Now they could at least sit, without
touching the squalor, and pretend that all was well. Eventually as
the room grew even colder and went fully dark with night, they lay
down and wrapped themselves in their outer clothing and slept
fitfully along each wall.

And now it has been at least a day and a
half, possibly two or even three. Who was counting? The night had
fallen at least twice and no one bothered to provide them with a
proper candle or even a decent hot meal. If one stared through the
miserly small window, there was only bleak sly, a few dingy roofs,
and perpetual winter haze. There were occasional hurried footfalls
in the corridor beyond their cell, and sometimes faintly heard
speech, as servants or guards moved around the Keep.

Twice a day their door was opened, and some
slovenly, harried maidservant accompanied by a silent guard would
bring them two small wooden plates with bread and possibly cheese,
and a pitcher of water. The food was surprisingly edible, so that
even Nathan did not complain, though he did consume his portion
ravenously, while Amaryllis pecked at hers and hardly ate at
all.

The maid also took their chamberpot to
empty, which was another horrid discomfort, since the room afforded
no privacy, and Amaryllis was understandably a highborn prude. She
insisted each of them turn to the wall and shut their eyes and ears
when the other made use of the unmentionable item.

And thus they slept or sat around or paced
the few steps, while hours ran forward without respite.

It made no difference that each time someone
came to their chamber they both expressed their outrage and
demanded to be let out and to see the Duke, and invoked the name of
the Emperor. The guard outside the door remained impassive, and the
poor maids—a different girl each time—merely curtsied painfully,
and hid their faces, shaking their heads in silence or mumbling
something sufficiently full of mortification.

“Really, why do you bother?” said Nathan,
after Amaryllis started to stomp her foot, then recalled she had a
sprained ankle, and instead nearly threw the empty plates at the
latest servant.

“Because I refuse to die here!” hissed
Amaryllis, turning her back to him and striding to the window with
only a minor limp (her ankle was healing reasonably well during
this enforced period of inactivity). Her slim shoulders, clad in
now-rumpled dark red velvet, shook in fury.

“The circumstances are a bit beyond anyone’s
control just now. Besides, if you recall, these days there is no
death, and thus neither you nor I may have the fortune to abscond
from this grandiose dull torment of a mortal coil. Be glad they are
feeding us at all. Think of the alternative!”

“Yes, but for how long will they continue to
feed us?”

“Who knows? Really now, what does anything
matter, darling girl? The world has all gone to hell and there’s no
chicken cutlet to be had. Soon, all that is edible will be gone and
done with. Might as well make merry while we still can.”

“This, in your opinion, is making merry? You
disappoint me, dearest boy.”

The young man yawned tiredly, mussing his
once perfectly groomed hair that he had worn, without a wig,
underneath a fur hat that he had long since removed and had been
using for a pillow.

“Oh, I am so infernally
bored . . .” he drawled. “Remind me why we bothered
to come on this Cobweb Bride adventure? Good lord, whatever were we
thinking?”

“If I recall, we were thinking of steak. Or
was it you or
she
that had been thinking of steak?” By “she”
Amaryllis of course meant Ignacia.

“Do you suppose that even then, this whole
thing was planned in advance? That is—did she orchestrate a clever
machination of sorts, to get us to come out here in the first
place? If it had been her intention to make contact with the Duke
Chidair all along, she likely used
us
, playing on our very
frivolous nature, to get us to drive her here! By God, what a nasty
little vixen she has turned out!”

“Well, yes, I dare say she has been playing
us for a very long time,” Amaryllis said softly. “I can never
forgive this.
Never.
She has made us into unspeakable
fools—”

“Now, why in all Heaven would you
want
to forgive her, dearest?” Nathan raised his hands up
nearer to the spot of faint day-glow from the window and fiddled
with his well-groomed fingernails that had in the last few days
acquired a bit of dirt.

“Oh, but I
don’t
want to forgive her
at all,” replied the dark beauty, standing before the window and
looking out. “What I want is to be placed in a position where I am
at my leisure to forgive her—or not. I want her to
beg
.”

“That would be highly unlikely now.”

“Yes, I am aware, Nathan. But you must allow
me to dream. While we languish in this dungeon, a lady must have
some dark passion to occupy her mind lest she lose all decorum and
begin to grow soft in the head and sing ditties, or worse, prance
around in a courtly dance with no partner but herself.”

“Good thing about your hurt ankle then, for
it prevents you from such a display.”

Amaryllis was about to retort something,
when there was a peculiar soft sound at their door. It was
different from the usual sequence of “pair of footsteps, servant
and guard,” then “dull thud of the bolt and the lock being turned.”
This sound was careful, secretive, and there had been no other
noise to signal anyone’s approach, only a tiny click of metal, and
then the door opened.

A messy, red-haired, freckled girl’s head
peeked inside. Then there was the striking of two flints together,
and a tiny candle bloomed with golden radiance.

Nathan and Amaryllis both squinted, their
vision overwhelmed after days away from direct light.

“Hello, Your Lordships!” sounded a vaguely
familiar voice, speaking in a loud whisper. “No need to be alarmed!
Tis me, Catrine! Remember me? I fixed your wheel!”

Amaryllis recognized the voice as belonging
to one of the girls on the road who had helped them with
reattaching the wheel of the wrecked curricle.

“Catrine, you say?” Nathan raised one brow
and stared, actively thinking.

“Oh, I do remember you,” Amaryllis said.
“Were you not a robber’s child? Something about your father robbing
carriages, and so you gave us a bit of a fright. Or at least Nathan
here had a bit of a fright, if I recall.”

“Why, yes that’s me and my sis Niosta! See,
I knew you’d remember, Your Ladyship! Not that we were gonna really
rob’ya or anything!” Catrine continued in the same whisper,
grinning widely with her little face of crooked and missing teeth.
And then she put one finger to her mouth in a “hush” gesture and
softly shut the door behind her and entered the room all the way,
holding the candle before her. The moving flame cast wildly
flickering shadows against the walls.

“Now, Your Lordships’re all probably
thinkin’, what is Catrine doing here?”

“Why yes, we are.” Nathan continued
observing her, far less bored than he had been a few moments ago.
“But what interests me most is how you managed to get in here
without being seen, and whether you have a key and a way to get us
out.”

“They grabbed me an’ the other Cobweb Brides
in the forest, same as you, I warrant. But they don’t keep the
likes of us locked up, only the fancy ladies and lords such as
Yourselfs. We—they got us workin’. I’m supposed to be carryin’
stuff.”

“Oh, is that so?” Amaryllis stepped forward,
favoring one foot. “Do they not think you can simply run away?”

Catrine snorted. “There’s nowhere to run.
Sure, it’s the forest out there, but to get to it you have to get
past them high walls, and there is no way to climb that far down.
The gates are guarded. And all the girls are too scared to try
anything.”

“But not you,” concluded Nathan.

“Hell, no, I’m scared too—beggin’ Your
Lordship and Ladyship’s pardon for the foul language an’ all—but I
know better. I ain’t no fool! I seen some girls try to run. Two or
three of ’em take off every day, after they give ’em work to do
around the Keep. But they all get caught, and the ones that do, get
thrown in the dungeon—the real dungeon they got down deep
below.”

“You mean
this
is not a dungeon? This
horrendous icy wine cellar we are being forced to endure?” said
Amaryllis, only partly in jest.

“Oh, hell, no! Beggin’ pardon again!”
Catrine whispered then rubbed her nose with the back of her hand,
while the candle in her other hand flickered lightly. “This here
you got is some fine quarters! Nuttin’ pretty of course, but at
least it’s got beds an’ a dry floor.”

Amaryllis shook her head.

“So how did you find us, girl?” Nathan
said.

“I heard the servants talkin’, and then they
told some of us to bring around dinner to all the fancy ’prisoned
ladies. We all know where each one of you is locked up! Cause the
crazy ole’ dead Duke an’ his men an’ his servants don’t have time
to feed the Cobweb Brides, so they make all of us do it.”

“So what does the Duke plan to do with all
of us?”

Catrine’s expression immediately reflected
fear. She shrugged, then after a pause, muttered, “I dunno, an’
nobody knows! He just keepin’ us back from Death’s Keep, they say,
an’ then, who knows? I don’t want to find out!”

“How many Cobweb Brides would you say are
there?” Amaryllis said.

“Dozens, ’undreds!” Catrine’s eyes widened.
“The fancy ones locked up are takin’ up most of this floor and
there’s them three more long corridors, and there’s two more
stories above, an’ one below!”

Nathan frowned.

“So anyway—” Catrine paused momentarily,
listening to the sounds outside, because there were footsteps in
the hallway, but then the sound receded. “Anyway, here I am, cause
I recognized they were talking about you and your fancy bit’o
carriage—”

“Curricle,” said Amaryllis.

“Yes, currey’cul, beggin’ pardon,” Catrine
amended. “So anyway, I got thinkin’ that I come by here an’ see
what is what, maybe even help.”

“A brave sentiment. But—why exactly might
you bother to help?” Nathan folded his arms together, watching the
little chit. “You do realize I no longer have gold coins on me,
since the villains confiscated my purse? Thus, there’s nothing to
pay you with.”

“And even if there were coins, how could you
help?” Amaryllis added. “Since you say that escape is
impossible.”

“Aha! But I didn’t say that, Your Ladyship!”
Catrine’s dark eyes glittered with energy, reflecting the light of
the candle. “I said there was nowhere to go, not with the high
walls and the guards everywhere, an’ the forest out there. But now
that I’ve been all over this Keep, carryin’ stuff, I know there’s a
way out. It ain’t easy. And I can’t go alone. So, I figure, I get
you out too, and we all run together. That is—both Your Lordships,
an’ me, an’ also them two Letheburg girls, Sybil an’ Regata who’re
down here too.”

“If you have other girls to run away with,
why do you need us?” Amaryllis pursued the thought. “Mind you, I am
pleased to be so generously included in this adventure, but you are
not telling us everything, are you?”

The candle flickered minutely in the girl’s
skinny, grubby hand. She wet her lips with her tongue, made a
smacking noise, as if it helped her think.

“Well?”

“All right,” Catrine said. “Tis true, I do
need Your Lordships to come along, in order for this to
work. . . .”

“For what to work?”

“The boat.”

“The
what?
” Amaryllis felt the need
to take a seat on her cot. “I think,” she said, “you need to start
from the beginning. Now, explain—and do it quickly, before someone
else comes and finds you here.”

“Oh, all right, I guess I must.” Catrine got
down in a crouch and placed the candle in its rusty metal holder on
the stone floor. She then sat down on the floor herself, crossing
her legs underneath her ragged skirts.

“There’s only one way to escape from Chidair
Keep,” she said, switching again to a whisper. “You have to go
directly down. And I mean,
down
. Around here, they say—they
say it’s down into the Underworld.”