Malediction (Scars of the Sundering Book 1) (15 page)

"Pancras?
Are you awake?" Kale's whispered voice cut through his thoughts.

The minotaur
considered not answering.
Maybe if they think I'm sleeping, they'll be
quiet.

"Pancras?
Hey!"

"Yes,
Kale?"

"Deli
and I have been talking."

"I
know. It's keeping me awake." Pancras rolled over so he faced the wall.
By
what foul sorcery do they still have enough energy for this?

"We
have a plan to get us out of this place. We'll have to leave Edric behind, but
we think he'd do the same in our place anyway."

Pancras
couldn't disagree with that sentiment, but he still thought they would be
better off not trying to escape.

"When
they come to feed us, Deli will pretend she’s dead, because she hit her head,
right? They'll collect her body and when they take her outside to dump her, she
can go back to the inn, get our stuff, and break us out with her magic."

He didn't
want to say it was a stupid idea. Portions of it had merit. He rolled over. The
draks' eyes glowed in the darkness of their cells, reflecting the dim light of
the lanterns.

"There
are a lot of things that can go wrong with that plan. What if they dismember
and burn the corpses of their prisoners, to keep them from being raised by a
necromancer?"

"Oh…"

"We
can't just sit here, Pancras!" Delilah's voice was a hiss, dripping with
anger and frustration.

"Go to
sleep." Pancras didn't think they would listen to him, but he wanted to
sleep. "Things will be clearer in the morning."

"They'll
come to take us to our executioner in the morning!" Delilah banged on the
bars of her cell. The sound cut through to the base of Pancras's spine.

"Shut
up for a minute and think!" Pancras clenched his teeth. "If minotaurs
and draks are treated as poorly as everyone here has said, then do you really
think they'll care that much about one ill-tempered minotaur being killed in a
bar brawl?"

"You
know, he's got a point, Deli."

"Kale—"

"Yes, I
have a point. Now be quiet. It's bad enough I'll have to face the magistrate
without my clothes. I don't want to face him exhausted as well."

Pancras
heard nothing more from the draks after that, but neither did he get his wish
for even the most minimal sleep. With dawn's light came the sounds of the city
through the jail walls, and the jailers followed soon after.

"Minotaur!
Sit up." The mustachioed guard who arrested them entered the holding area
with two guards wielding pikes. They brandished them through the bars of his
cell. Pancras complied with the guard's order. Another guard entered holding
shackles and leather straps.

"You're
coming with us this morning. Someone wants to talk to you." The guard
opened Pancras's cell. The man holding the shackles and straps entered. Kale
and Delilah rolled out of their cots. Before they made it halfway across their
cells, the guard yelled at them to return to their cots.

He pointed
at Pancras. "Muzzle him."

* * *

"See? I
told you!" Delilah threw her waste bucket across her cell as the guards
led Pancras away, shackled and muzzled. It splintered and broke against the
stone.
Glad that was empty.

"What
do you think they're going to do to him, Deli?" Kale slipped down from his
cot and paced the floor.

"They'll
probably skin him for a rug. We'll be next!" Delilah clenched her fists.
She considered sending a message to Edric. She concentrated on the wisps of
magical aether permeating the world. Without her staff, her focus, grasping
them with her mind was difficult, like trying to hold smoke in one's hand.

Kale
inhaled, puffing up his chest. He closed his eyes and exhaled. A jet of flame
shot across his cell and into the next. With a yelp, he clamped his mouth shut
with his hands. Eyes wide, he trembled and turned toward his sister.

"You
can do that whenever you want now?"

Lowering his
trembling hands, Kale gulped and nodded. "I guess I can. What's happening
to me, Deli?"

As much as
she wanted to feel excited for her brother's new and interesting ability, she
knew it was not a normal thing. She also knew she could not be fully truthful
with him. She realized he was frightened, and she didn't want to risk upsetting
him further. "Maybe it has something to do with that chaos rift? You
haven't been quite right since that."

Kale sat
down on his cot. "Should we try to bust out of here or wait for Pancras to
come back?"

"I
guess we should wait. The guards said someone wanted to talk to him. If they're
going to execute him, hopefully they'll bring him back here first."
Delilah sat on the floor, cross-legged.
I wish I had my lexicon, or my
grimoire. This is too boring.
If I had my staff, we'd already be on our
way out of the city.

A guard
entered the holding area, interrupting Delilah's thoughts. He carried two
steaming bowls. Wooden spoons stood in the paste-like gruel. "Stay on your
cots." He sat the bowls down in front of Delilah's cell, unlocked the
door, and then slid a bowl into her cell with his foot. He locked up and then
did the same at Kale's cell.

"Eat
up. Next meal will be at dusk."

As he turned
to leave, Delilah hopped off her cot and approached the bowl of gruel. It
looked like wet horse feed. "Hey, what did you humans do with
Pancras?"

"The
minotaur? Took him away. Didn't tell me where. Eat." He locked the holding
area door behind him.

Kale
crouched in front of his bowl and stirred it. "What is this slop?"

Tasting it,
Delilah pursed her lips. She expected a foul flavor and instead discovered the
slop had no flavor at all. "Prison food. Yum, yum."

Chapter 8

"Leave
him here. Remove his muzzle."

The guard
removed the muzzle from Pancras's snout, shoved him into the room, and shut the
door behind him. Pancras stumbled forward, tripping over his shackles, but
managed to remain upright. Hand-cut rugs covered the floor in front of a
crackling fireplace. Candles burned in sconces on the wall, casting scant
light. A window on the far side of the room provided illumination from the
rising sun, and Pancras smelled herbal incense smoldering. A small table sat in
the center of the room, the sort of table at which two people would sit to
share a drink and conversation.

A man sat at
a writing desk, scribbling something onto parchment. He set down his quill and
arched his back, working out the kinks in his knotted up muscles. He turned and
regarded Pancras. From his gold-trimmed purple robes, Pancras assumed he was
someone of authority in Almeria. The robes were not unlike those Pancras
favored, and he appreciated the human's fashion sense.

"Ah,
the minotaur." He stood and bowed. "I am Prince Gavril."

Pancras
returned the bow.
The Prince of Etrunia himself? What is this about?

"You
may have heard that I am a man of little patience. I will not waste your time
with false pleasantries. Your loud drak companion says you are a
necromancer." He paced the floor in front of Pancras, staring at him as he
walked.

Pancras ran
his hands down his chest, wincing as fur caught in his shackles.
How did he
find out about that so quickly?
He sighed. "I was once, yes."

"Once?"
Prince Gavril stopped and regarded Pancras. "Have you forgotten all your
skills?"

"No, I
simply have not practiced them recently."

"Very
well. What is your purpose here in Almeria? As you may have surmised by now,
your kind is not welcome here."

Pancras
licked his lips. "When we arrived, I was not aware Almeria's stance toward
my people and draks had changed. We only wished to winter here. We are on our
way to Muncifer, and I know you know how deadly the cold and snow can be in the
dark of winter's night."

Prince
Gavril resumed pacing. "I speak of necromancers, not minotaurs and draks.
Even now, I have councilors who are incredulous I have not put you all to
death. Your existence is a crime to them."

Opening his
mouth to retort, Pancras held his tongue at a gesture from the prince.

"I did
not say I agree, but a man in my position can ill afford to anger all of his
councilors. What is your name, Necromancer?"

"Pancras,
First Wizard of Drak-Anor."

"First
Wizard?" Prince Gavril cocked an eyebrow. "A political title. I have
heard of Drak-Anor but know little of it." He gestured at the table in the
center of the room. "Please, sit. I have a proposition."

Pancras
could not imagine what the Prince of Etrunia wanted with him, but if it meant a
chance to free Kale and Delilah and find Edric so they could be on their way,
Pancras was obliged to listen. He would take his chances in the wilderness only
if it meant avoiding the headsman's axe. Pancras sat at the table and wished he
had clothes. He felt exposed, vulnerable. The prince poured a brown liquid into
two glasses and handed one to Pancras. The minotaur sniffed the glass. It
smelled of oak and alcohol.

"I
don't trust men who don't drink. Our spirits are strong and will keep you warm
on cold nights." The prince drank his glass down in one gulp. Pancras did
the same, grimacing as the liquid burned its way down into his stomach.

"I want
you to work a spell to make my wife barren."

Pancras
blinked and almost dropped the glass from his hand. He set it on the table. He
knew of hexes that could have such effects, but he had not ever performed such
spells.

"I can
see you are confused. My wife shuns me every night unless she wants to conceive
a child. Then, and only then, am I welcome in her bed. I mount her and deliver
my seed. If she does not conceive, we try again. If she does, she has nothing
to do with me until the next time she wants a child. As it would be improper
for me to take a mistress, I find myself lacking when it comes to companionship
at night, and believe me, even these halls grow cold in winter."

"I am
not sure…" Pancras stalled. He didn't know what to say. He gave up
necromancy for a reason, and he thought it heinous to render a woman infertile.

"I
don't need you to understand, but I will explain further. When two people are
wed in Etrunia, the man's possessions become his wife's. If I demand a divorce
now, without cause, I will lose everything. My lands, my titles, my money.
However, if I have cause, say, because my wife is barren, well, that's another
matter. She will be cared for, of course, as will the children we have, but I
cannot be obligated to stay with a barren woman. As prince, I have a duty to
spread my seed as widely as I can, provided it is with my wife."

"In
exchange"—the prince offered more whiskey to Pancras, who declined with a
shake of his head—"I will provide accommodations here in the palace for
you and your companions until the snows thaw and you can resume your
journey."

Pancras
looked at the table, furrowing his brow in thought. "It is a difficult
ritual, dangerous and time consuming. There is a risk to her."

"If she
dies, I will be free to find a new wife." The prince smiled. "Of
course, I could not allow the death of my wife to go unpunished."

There's the
rub.
Pancras rubbed his chin. So far, Almerian hospitality left much
to be desired.
But should I trade this woman's fertility for our comfort?
He
realized there was much more than their comfort at stake. The authorities meant
to jail them indefinitely or have them executed, and the Slayers would have an
easy time of it if the archmage sent them after Pancras and Delilah while they
rotted in a jail cell.

"Consider
this, today, in your jail cell, Pancras." Prince Gavril leaned forward and
grinned. "You all will likely hang from the gibbets if you don't perform
this service for me. See what your companions think of that." The prince
lowered his voice, eyes darting from side to side, as if looking for
eavesdroppers. "But speak not of the request I made of you. No one must know.
If anyone asks why you're here, claim to be ambassadors from… Drak-Anor, is it?
I can guarantee you a slow and painful death if my wife or anyone else finds
out."

* * *

After
choking down what the prison classified as food, Kale returned to his cot.
Counting knots in the wood beams that crossed the ceiling wasn't the most
exciting activity in which to immerse himself, but it was the only
entertainment available to him at present. Delilah wanted to work out an escape
scheme, but Kale was not sure if the guards could hear them talking, and he
didn't want to spend all his time sitting on a hard floor so they would be
close enough to whisper.

All things
considered, he felt good. His insides didn't burn anymore, although his back
still ached where the two lumps had formed. Kale dozed, although the creak of
the holding area door awakened him as it opened. He looked up to see Pancras
escorted in. The guards opened a cell for him, removed his shackles, and
exited.

"Hey,
you're back." Delilah traced symbols in the floor of her cell with a
finger. "They took the muzzle off."

Pancras
rubbed his snout. "It was an odd meeting. Not with a magistrate."

"Oh?"

Kale sat up
and cocked his head. "Well, who then?"

"The
prince propositioned me."

"He's
into minotaurs? Huh." Kale shrugged. "Can you tolerate humans enough
to put up with him?"

Pancras
snorted. "Not that kind of proposition, Kale! He wants a favor from me,
from a necromancer. In exchange, he's offered to let us stay the winter in the
palace."

Kale hopped
off his cot and ran to the bars. "That's great! Let's get out of this
place, then!"

Delilah
stood up and nodded her agreement. "Yeah, whatever it is that you have to
do, do it. The palace beats jail and that dumpy inn, too."

"I was
afraid you would feel that way." Pancras flopped onto his cot and covered
his face with his hands. "I don't want to do what he wants."

"Well,
what is it?" Kale couldn't imagine Pancras would risk their freedom just
to avoid creating a few skeletons or zombies for the local ruler.

"I
cannot tell you, but I don't want to do it."

Delilah
rattled her cell door. "Hey, look at me. Don't get all worried about being
proper. They'll keep us locked up and throw away the keys if they can. You need
to do what he wants or at least make him think you've done what he wants, and
get us out of here. What happens if they keep us locked up long enough that we
don't get to Muncifer on time?"

"They'll
send the Slayers after us, and we'll be sitting ducks here in jail."
Pancras rolled of his cot and paced. "Maybe I can find an alternative
solution. I have time. I told him what he wants is complicated and
time-consuming. It's going to take a month, at least, to pull everything
together anyway."

The thought
of living in the palace until spring made Kale want to jump around and cheer.
"Come on, Pancras, you have to at least say yes, even if you don't mean
it. Once we get out of this jail, we can figure out what we're going to do
after that."

"All
right, all right. I'll agree to the terms. Maybe there's something more going
on, something to which I am not privy, something we can use to our advantage
once we are free from this place." Pancras rattled his cell door.
"Guards! Guards!"

The holding
area door opened. "Quiet! One more outburst, and you'll go hungry
tonight!"

Kale shared
a grin with his sister as Pancras shook his head and sighed.

"Tell
Prince Gavril I agree to his terms."

* * *

The guards
brought all their possessions into the holding cell and dumped them all in a
pile. As they sorted through it, the guards brought two battered and bruised
humans in, shoving them into the cells Kale and Delilah previously occupied.

The
mustachioed guard banged his cudgel against one of the cells. "All right,
you lot. I've orders to take you to the palace straight away."

"No
way. We still have stuff at our inn." Delilah put her hands on her hips.
"You're going to take us there, first. I'm not leaving my staff and books
with that brute one minute longer."

He raised
his cudgel to strike. Pancras stepped forward, pushing Delilah out of the way.
"We all have valuables at The Sleeping Viper. The prince would be very
displeased if we arrive unable to work because you refused to let us retrieve
our possessions."

The guard
lowered his cudgel and considered Pancras's words. "We'll send someone
'round to collect your things. We have orders to deliver you"—he pointed
at Pancras—"right away."

Pancras
looked down at Kale. "Kale, go with the guards. Make sure they don't
forget or miss anything at the inn. All my things are in my pack." He
looked back at the guard. "Acceptable?"

"Maybe
I should go with them." Delilah watched her brother and the guards leave.

Shaking his
head, Pancras followed their escort out of the holding area and up the stairs
leading out of the jail. "Together, you two might come up with a scheme
that would cause us more trouble. This way, Kale will return to us with the
guards."

Delilah made
a face behind Pancras's back.
He's right. We'd give those guards the slip
and figure out a way to bust us all out of this mess.
At least they
didn't damage my new cloak.
She adjusted the sash at her waist and ran her
claws over her belly. Delilah wasn't accustomed to wearing clothing that
covered this much of her body since draks didn't need to cover themselves the
way softer-skinned people did. Thankful she chose her new garment carefully,
she was determined to look the part of a civilized wizard.

Pedestrians
on the streets of Almeria gave their escorts a wide berth. Delilah was happy
for the reprieve from being crowded by relative giants. Dodging people
oblivious to her presence tired her. A rumbling knot in her stomach reminded
her she had not eaten since the morning's gruel.

She tugged
at Pancras's sleeve. The minotaur shuffled behind the guards, towering over his
escorts. "Hey, do you think the fare at the palace will be good?"

"It
should be. Nobility often eat better than the common folk. We may have to eat
with the servants, but I'd wager it will still be better that what the average
citizen eats." They turned a corner onto a wide, tree-lined avenue. Leaves
of red, yellow, and brown swirled along the street, dancing on gusts of wind.
The spires of the palace jutted above the surrounding wall and obscured the
rest of the palace grounds from Delilah's sight.