Darkness Weaves (13 page)

The riders paused within a few yards of him, and Cassi listened carefully to hear their conversation while he idly looked over the shop's assortment fruits.

"Seems to be coming along as fast as feasible, anyway," Imel was saying. "I still don't quite see how going to be very practical, though. I mean how much accuracy can you get on any target over maybe a quarter of a mile?"

"They'll do the job they're made for," Kane asserted. "I've seen it done a few times. True, their use is rather limited--but they're devastating when you can utilize them. Anyway, catapults are essential to any siege, so we'd have had to construct them eventually. And if we can just get the time to drill them properly, their crews can get pretty damned accurate with the things. With a fireball you don't need to be too accurate, so long as you get it to any target where it can splatter."
He shrugged. "I think we've got time to check on Alremas before dark yet. He ought to have some thoughts on how his group did during battle maneuvers at sea today. Getting hungry myself. Arbas, are those apples any good yet?"

The dark-haired man grunted. "Not much. All I've seen so far have been on the green side. But then if you like green apples, it doesn't matter. Had some orange wedges that were pretty good."

"Well, it was a thought," Kane muttered as they rode away.

As they left, Cassi selected a bunch of grapes and paid for them. The proprietor had been watching too closely this time. He wandered off in the direction of his barracks, spitting seeds as he walked.

The water was cold and as black as the basalt of Dan-Legeh's walls. Kane stuck his foot in it and cursed.

"Sure you know what you're doing?" Arbas inquired.

Kane declined comment. The night was starless beneath a heavy blanket of sea mist, and a cold wind made a scattering of whitecaps across the inky water. The tide was out, and the surf made a sobbing moan against the rocks where they stood. The mist was sour with the scents of kelp and stale sea. Blacker in the blackness, the towers of Dan-Legeh stabbed through the fog into the night above them.

"Just don't let some bastard swipe my stuff--and save some of that brandy for me," Kane growled, gingerly wading out into the ebbing surf. His boots and clothing lay piled upon his cloak, along the kelp-wreathed rocks of the headland. Kane's sword and scabbard waited there as well, but the hulking man kept his heavy-bladed dagger strapped to his naked waist.

Arbas watched him with a dubious expression. Shaking his head, the assassin took a long pull from the brandy flask. He was used to Kane's mad schemes, and used to seeing Kane pull them off. If this time were different, well then, he'd wait until the tide turned or the brandy gave out.

Swimming out across the mist-shrouded surf, Kane made his way toward the cliffs below Dan-Legeh. He was confident no human eye could pick him out on a night like this, though Kane found his own course through the darkness without apparent difficulty.

When Kane reached the base of the cliffs, he dived. Salt water stung his eyes, and the cold numbed his flesh. Strands of kelp clutched at him, entangled his thrashing limbs--and it took all of his strength to swim against the sucking undercurrents. Kane was a powerful swimmer, but he knew better than to dare for long the treacherous undertow here. If he faltered, the current would drag him down to the bottomless depths of the Sorn-Ellyn--and Kane had an idea of what would welcome him there.

He dived as deeply beneath the moaning surf as he dared--swimming down until the pressure lanced his skull with intolerable agony, until the undertow sucked at his aching limbs with a current almost beyond his power to resist, until his chest shuddered with pent-up breath. There was nothing to indicate he had neared the bottom of the sea beneath the cliffs there.

Kane sensed movement far below his deepest dive.

He returned to the surface, gulping air in great gasps. His hand gripped his knife. A chill touch enwrapped his leg. It was only a trailing strand of kelp.

Again Kane sensed movement from below. Quickly he swam for the kelp-strewn rocks--scrambling onto a slimy knob to catch his breath. Behind him, the sea convulsed for an instant. Kane drew back into the cover of the seaweed and broken rocks, watching.

A head broke through the surface and stared about. Kane pressed closer to the clammy rock. Against the choppy whitecaps and the boiling surf, the face was a pale blotch. The waves about the other swimmer swirled from the passage of other shapes. The swimmer dived again, and did not return, although Kane watched a long time.

He swam back closer to the shoreline. Because he did so, Kane found the body that was wedged in the rocks.

It was a man's body, naked, looking dead or drowned in that pale, bloated manner that dead and drowned things have. The crabs had not been at their work so well yet that Kane could not examine the wounds that scored the man's bloodless flesh. Kane had once seen a man enwrapped with chains that had been heated white-hot. These wounds called that vision to mind, although closer examination showed they were not burns, but puckered gouges.

Kane left the crabs to their meal. He was chilled from more than the icy surf when he clambered back to where Arbas waited.

The assassin tossed Kane the flask, grinning as Kane turned it up. Kane's teeth chattered as he towelled himself with his cloak and struggled to drag clothes over his still-damp flesh.

"If you've had enough skinny-dipping for one night, let's go find a warm fire and a keg of that same brandy," Arbas prescribed. "I've been fighting off hungry crabs for a good hour, waiting for you to get back. What did you do--run into a pretty mermaid?"

Kane looked at him strangely for a moment; then he wrestled some more with his boots. "I did see another swimmer out there," he commented in a low voice. "I don't think she saw me."

Arbas suspected a jest. "Was she a sea sprite?" "It was Efrel."

The next day Cassi bribed a sergeant to put him on sick call. Once on his own, the Emperor's spy hurried to Tolsyt's wineshop, where he exchanged his soldier's harness for a dirty smock and wine-stained apron. Tolsyt received him glumly and told him that he had picked up a wagonload of choice Lartroxian wine to take to the fortress. His breath indicated that he had sampled the vintage thoroughly. The two climbed onto the wagon seat and drove slowly through the crowded streets to Dan-Legeh, Tolsyt wearing the mien of a man driving his own funeral coach.

Still, he played his part well enough when they reached the fortress. The guards passed them through the gates with little argument and called for the chief steward, who presently came to inspect their wares. It was a good vintage. Tolsyt was a better vintner than spy, although he was too worried to haggle well, and the steward purchased the wine at a bargain price. They took their time unloading the barrels, then loaded the wagon with empty kegs--dawdling until mealtime, whereupon they received permission to eat with the kitchen servants.

Having more or less established their presence within Dan-Legeh, Cassi and Tolsyt casually took an after-dinner stroll through the fortress, talking with the servants and listening to the conversations of the soldiers. The very multitudes of people who thronged the sprawling citadel formed a cover for them. To anyone who gave them notice, they appeared to be merely a pair of loafers gawking at the sights.

Cassi beckoned his companion aside. "We'll split off now," he told him. "I want to do some snooping around the north wing and see what we can hear from the servants in the living quarters of the Pellin lords. It might get ticklish if we're spotted hanging around there, but any names or scraps of information we can dig up will be worth plenty. So keep your eyes and ears open. I'd still like to know something definite about Efrel. All we've heard so far doesn't prove a thing."

"Damn it, Cassi! Let's get out of here now!" Tolsyt begged. "We've found out enough for Maril already. All the servants swear that Efrel is alive and keeps to the northern wing of the fortress. Come on, we know enough. They'll kill us if they find us wandering around any farther."

But Cassi silenced his protests with threatening curses and ordered the panic-stricken vintner to do as he was told. Tolsyt left him with dragging steps at an intersection of the labyrinthian corridors. The man was close to breaking, Cassi realized. But he would have to risk him and Cassi was quite willing to sacrifice Tolsyt if necessity demanded.

Cautiously he strode along the hallways, casting a curious eye into whatever open doorways he passed. His steps were bold, and he assumed the appearance of a man who was going about his accustomed business. Now and again he stepped behind tapestries or into open doorways, choosing to avoid confrontation with those whom he heard approaching.

He began to sense an oppressive tension as he approached the northern wing of Dan-Legeh. There were fewer people in evidence now, which only made it all the more difficult to, account for his own presence. Still he pressed on, determined to earn Maril's richest bounty by bringing him the first-hand information the Emperor would demand with regard to the conspiracy's leaders.

He rounded a corner and found himself facing two lounging guardsmen. Cassi felt the chill of their suspicious stares.

"Where the hell do you think you're headed, buddy?" one of them growled.

The small of his back was cold with sweat, but Cassi smiled ingratiatingly. "Gosh, am I glad to see you guys!" he blurted in his best yokel accent. "How does a guy get out of this place? I been walking pretty near for an hour, and I just keep getting lost. Wow, this place sure gives me the creeps! How do you guys stand it being in here all day?"

"What were you doing in the first place, buddy?" the guard continued suspiciously.

Cassi hitched his belt awkwardly. "Well, you see I was delivering a load of wine with the boss. Ten hogs-heads of that real quality Lartroxian stuff--man, it's the best you can get, too. Well, after that we ate us a bite, and the boss he sort of dozed off for a bit like he does. So I decided to take me a look at this huge palace folks is always talking about back home--so I could tell them all about it, you know. Thought maybe I'd even see some of that elegant indoor plumbing these bluebloods put in even for the servants to use, so they say."

He paused, smiling amiably--wondering whether he were laying it on too thick. He hadn't been able to bring a weapon with him in his role of a vintner's flunky--but even if he could lay hands on a sword, he knew he could never cut his way out of the fortress.

The other guardsman looked him over contemptuously, noting the wine stains that blotched his clothing. "Hell, let him go, Joren," he yawned. "Kane would skin our asses if we bothered him about this hayseed."

He glowered at the spy. "Turn around and go back, boy. This is off limits, get it? Keep left when you get to the main corridor, go straight past three cross passages, right on the fourth, then straight toward the kitchen smells. Hell, find somebody else down at that end and ask them. Now beat it, boy--and you better plan on crapping in your britches before you come looking for plumbing around the north wing again!"

Cassi thanked them profusely and slunk off. The secret pleasure of making fools of the guards compensated for their bullying treatment, he told himself. But he had been marked and warned off. Now he would have to try another avenue of approach to learn anything here. Wondering how Tolsyt fared, Cassi cut across the route the guard had directed and turned into a hallway that felt dank and disused. He hoped he might catch up with Tolsyt before the other man encountered the same pair of guards. He was uncertain as to the exact course his companion might have taken--or even how far Tolsyt might have gone before his courage failed. When Cassi had last seen him, Tolsyt was headed down a flight of stairs, evidently intending to work his way to the north wing through the lower levels of the fortress. With this in mind, Cassi descended the precipitous stairways into the colossal citadel's foundations--marveling yet again at the immensity of this legendary structure.

Skillfully he picked his way through the maze of murky chambers and dusty corridors. Stealth was imperative in these seldom-frequented nether reaches, so that Cassi stepped into concealment to avoid meeting chance intruders. Thus, when he caught the faint scuff of furtive footsteps, Cassi was quick to slip behind an ancient tapestry.

Cassi cautiously looked down the gloomy corridor, wondering whether he was being cut off by suspicious guards. After a moment he caught sight of the intruder. It was only Tolsyt, creeping down the torch-lit passage toward him. The vintner was maybe a hundred feet from his own hiding place--but Cassi easily recognized his portly silhouette, even though the light was too poor to reveal his features. Cassi started to call out to the wine merchant--he would learn how Tolsyt had done, then decide if they dared risk further snooping. But instead of hailing Tolsyt, Cassi could only gape in terror.

As Cassi stared, Tolsyt's movements suddenly were becoming stiff and slow-paced. The vintner moved his plump limbs as if they were weighted with stone--he struggled like a man seized in quicksand, dragging himself to an uncanny standstill. Tolsyt's face was frozen in a grimace of stark terror. A hoarse bleat of fear started from his lips, became a groaning rattle as even his tongue failed him. All voluntary motion ceased. He stood paralyzed in a stance of terrified flight--trapped into helpless immobility. It was as if Cassi watched a scene from a common nightmare.

For an instant Cassi fought back headlong panic. Then there came to his ears the shivery squeal of stone and oiled metal sliding together. The torches flared brightly as a faint breeze caught their flame. A section of the musty tapestries billowed outward, disclosing a concealed door that swung open from the stones of the corridor wall.

Two figures stepped out from the darkness beyond the doorway. One, Cassi recognized as Kane, for the man carried a torch that threw light on his features and cast a hulking shadow about him. Beside him hobbled a creature who looked only remotely human. She limped along on a grotesquely carved wooden leg, most of her body swathed in clinging folds of silk. The silhouette of her body against the torchlight was vaguely feminine, but strangely deformed. When she turned her face toward where he crouched, Cassi had to stifle a cry. Cassi knew beyond all doubt that Efrel the sorceress yet lived. There was one eye to remind him of the beautiful Efrel he had seen at the court of Thovnosten, but the hideously disfigured, face was beyond the most depraved imagination. He only felt relief that the torchlight shone no more brightly.