The Angel's Command (36 page)

Ned bumped a big goat aside. “It's my paw she's fixing, not yours. Anyhow, you've got little hooves, bet they never get cut on the rocks. Listen, mate, if I give you a message, could you communicate it to Arnela?”

The goat's jaws were working furiously around a mouthful of dried grass. It bleated dumbly at the dog:
“Maaaahahaaa!”

Ned sniffed disdainfully. “If that's the best you can do, then don't bother. Oh, and mind your manners, keep your mouth closed when you're eating, disgusting beast!”

Arnela cleaned grit out of the wound with warm water, talking in a comforting voice to Ned as she worked. “Don't worry, boy, I won't hurt ye. Stand still now. There, it's nice and clean now. I'll put some balm on it. This is good stuff for healing wounds. I make it myself with herbs and white ashes from the pinewood I've burned. Feels good and soothing, doesn't it?”

The goatherd did not expect an answer, though Ned replied thoughtfully, “It feels wonderful, you kind, clever lady!”

Arnela caught hold of a young billy goat with long, silken hair as he tried to skip by her. “Hold still a moment, Narcissus, I need to borrow a tuft or two from your coat.”

With a small pair of shears she clipped a portion from where the goat hair grew longest. Narcissus bleated pitifully. The goatherd sent him on his way with a pat. “Go on, you great baby. That didn't hurt you a bit, stop whinging!”

As Ned watched her separating the hair, he thought, “What are you going to do with that, my friend?”

Arnela continued talking as she ministered to him. “Hair from a young billy is better than any bandage. I wind it around your paw like this, and it protects the wound nicely. By the time your paw's better, it'll have dropped off!”

Ned gazed trustingly at the goatherd. “It feels very good, thank you, marm. I'll trust your word as to its dropping off eventually. I mean, it'd look a bit foolish, wouldn't it—a black dog with a white goat-hair paw? Pretty odd, I'd say.”

Arnela fed him a bowl of soup and one of fresh goat milk. Ned took them gratefully. She watched until he was finished, then took his front paws in her lap. “Now, where are the children?”

Ned could only gaze at her beseechingly.

She continued, “Have they found Adamo?”

A sudden brain wave struck the dog. He shook his head slowly.

Arnela was astonished. “You shook your head! Does that mean you can understand me, Ned?” The dog nodded solemnly.

Arnela's eyes lit up with wonderment. “You can! You can understand me. Oh, you clever dog!”

Ned licked her hand, thinking to himself, “I could listen to your compliments all night, my friend, but there isn't time. Go on, ask me another question!”

Arnela stared deep into Ned's eyes. “So, what's happened to our friends? Sorry, let me put it another way. Did you get lost from them? Are they still searching?”

Ned shook his head emphatically.

Arnela looked anxious. “Are they lying injured someplace? I heard the avalanche.”

Ned shook his head, waiting on her next words.

“Have they been taken by the Razan?”

The dog nodded vigorously several times.

“They're prisoners—do you know where they are?”

Ned held his head still a moment, then nodded twice.

Arnela shooed away an inquisitive goat before she spoke. “Ned, can you lead me to them?”

Again he nodded in the affirmative.

 
Arnela arose, put on her heavy cloak and picked up her rope and ice axe. Then, from a hiding place among the goat fodder, she drew out a pistol that she had captured from the robber clan. It was loaded and primed. Thrusting it into her belt, she patted the dog's head. “Come on then, Ned!”

The big woman halted at the cave entrance. She spoke to her goats as though they were children. “Now there's no need for you lot to go wandering willy-nilly around the mountains. There's food in here, 'tis nice and dry, and water up to our very doorstep. I shouldn't be too long away.

Pantyro, I'm leaving you in charge, be firm with them, but no bullying. Clovis, you'd better keep an eye on Pantyro. You're all on your best behaviour, so don't let me down!”

Ned cast an eye over the goats as he and Arnela left the cave. They gazed dumbly at him as he left them with the thought, “I'd hate to be you lot if the place isn't neat and tidy when your mistress gets back!”

A little billy goat bleated at the dog:
“Maaaah!”

Ned eyed him frostily. “Don't argue with your elders and betters, young fellow!”

With the black Labrador leading the way, Arnela began the long uphill trudge.

Now that he had set his rescue mission under way, Ned concentrated his thoughts upon Ben, sending out messages of hope and comfort. “Ben, can you hear me, mate? It's your old pal Ned. I've got Arnela with me, we're coming to help you, wherever you are. Speak to me, Ben, let me know you're alright!”

As they pressed onward and upward, the faithful dog began to feel anxious and worried. Ben was not responding.

24

A TAPPING NOISE WAKENED KARAY. SHE lay quite still, watching the barred entrance through half-closed eyes. It was Gizal, the blind crone. Behind her came a man carrying a pail and a cauldron with a ladle protruding from it. He placed them where Gizal indicated with her stick, close to the bars. The hag held a finger to her lips, cautioning the man to be quiet. After a moment they both crept silently off. Steam was emanating from the cauldron, a not unpleasant aroma.

The movement of Karay rising woke Ben and Dominic. Dominic yawned cavernously. “Can't you keep still, Karay? I was in a nice sleep there.”

Ben sniffed the air. “Smells like food, who brought it?”

The girl reached through the bars and dipped a ladleful. “It's porridge of some sort. The old blind woman and a guard left it here not a moment ago. Hmmm, I'm starving!”

Ben leapt upright. “Don't touch it, Karay! There may be something wrong with the stuff!”

However, Karay was hungry and tasted some on her fingertip. “It is porridge—oatmeal with milk and honey in it. Tastes pretty good to me. If they wanted to poison us, they could have done that long since. We're prisoners, aren't we? Even prisoners have to be fed. There's fresh water in the pail, too!”

Ben hesitated, then consulted the facemaker. “What d'you think, Dom, is it safe?”

Dominic smiled mischievously. “Well, let Karay eat some. If she doesn't scream and keel over, it should be alright.”

His remark did not seem to disconcert the girl. Blowing on the porridge to cool it, she ate with relish, wrinkling her nose at the two watchers. “It's delicious. I'll finish the pot if you two are afraid of porridge. Mmm, great stuff!”

Dominic hurried to her side. “You little hog, give me some!”

Forgetting his earlier doubts, Ben joined him. “Steady on there, mates, I'm famished too!”

It was good food, hot and sweet. Between them they devoured three ladles each. Licking the ladle clean, Karay rinsed it in the pail. The friends drank some water to quench their thirst.

All three felt much better with food and drink inside them. They seated themselves against the rock walls, staring at the glow of the lanterns outside.

Ben thrust his hands inside his cloak to keep them warm. “What d'you suppose they're planning to do with us?”

Karay giggled. “Send us some more nice porridge when we get hungry, I suppose.”

Ben did not know why he suddenly started laughing. “Hahaha, tell 'em to bring three pans next time, one each!”

Dominic smiled foolishly. “Aye, and we'd like a table, too, with some nice napkins, like the ones the comte has in his big house. Hahaha, lots of napkins, hoho . . . Oh, hahahaaaar!” The three of them held their sides and laughed uproariously, not knowing or caring about the cause of such merriment. After a while their laughter subsided into amused chuckles. Then they fell silent, eyelids drooping. Ben yawned and stretched flat out on the floor, Karay and Dominic listed crazily toward each other as they sat with their backs against the rock. In an incredibly short time they were sleeping deeply. Then the effects of Maguda's potion really took over their minds.

 
Karay felt she was once again chained to the wheel of Cutpurse's wagon, unable to move her wrists. The fat clown-thief crouched in front of her, grinning maliciously. She was helpless in his presence. At his side he had the steaming porridge cauldron. Cutpurse tipped it gently, allowing her to view the contents. It was not porridge, it was spiders! The one thing in life of which Karay had an unreasoning terror—spiders! Big ones, small ones, hairy ones, smooth ones, some red, others golden, but most of them an iridescent purply black. Scrambling and wriggling over one another, the mass of arachnids strove to get out of the pail. Karay was overcome with frozen horror, her mouth forming an anguished scream that stuck in her throat. Cutpurse dipped the ladle into the pail, and spiders began crawling into it. He lifted the ladle clear, and some of the spiders clinging to the sides of the handle fell to the floor.

Sniggering with delight, the fat robber winked ominously at Karay and teased her wickedly. “Look, pretty one, spiders. Lots of spiders, and all for you!”

 
Dominic could not even abide the thought of snakes. Loathsome slippery reptiles, cold and slimy, with questing forked tongues and fangs that dripped poison. He had once seen a rabbit that had been bitten by an adder. It lay quivering, eyes glazed, but still alive as the snake coiled about its legs, the blunt nose questing at its victim's neck as its scales slithered over the victim's warm body. Dominic looked up and from his distorted angle of view saw Maguda Razan.

She was standing just outside the cell bars, glaring hate-fully at him. Slowly her clawed hands reached for the opening of the voluminous cloak that enveloped her, and she croaked at him, “Am I so hideous that you would not make a picture of my face?” Then she opened the cloak a fraction, and snakes began sliding sinuously out onto the floor. Lots of snakes! One with a dirty grey body and barred yellow markings on its underside wrapped itself around the bars. A hooded cobra with spectacle signs reared up and hissed viciously. Pythons, pit vipers and banded coral snakes coiled and uncoiled around Maguda's feet, swaying, hissing, baring their fangs and constantly being joined by others tumbling out from the cloak. Dominic stared in dread fascination at the jumble of writhing bodies, which had begun moving toward him. He could not close his eyes to block out the awful sight. He sat there leaning askew against the rock, aware of every beady set of eyes centred on him, too petrified to make a single move or sound.

The snakes were coming for him!

 
Ben's breath caught in his throat suddenly. The entire crew of the
Flying Dutchman,
both the living and the dead, came shuffling up to the bars and stared through them at him. Pale, bloated faces of those who had drowned mingled with the fierce scarred and coarse-whiskered features of those whom he had known and detested for their greed and cruelty. They leered and grinned knowingly at the former crew lad. Suddenly they were wrenched aside, and he found himself looking into the face of Captain Vanderdecken, leader of them all.

His face was as white as parchment, the thin lips blue from the cold, bared over yellowed teeth like crooked gravestones. His salt-bleached hair, crusted with ice, stood out from his head like an unholy halo. From under their black-pouched lids, Vanderdecken's wild eyes shone insanely, boring into the boy's very heart.

The Dutchman poked a frostbitten, black-nailed finger at Ben. “So this is where ye've been hiding, wretch! I'll always find ye, no matter where you hide! I'll soon have ye back aboard my ship, and we'll spend eternity together, lad. Eternity!”

 
A litter drew up in front of the cell, borne by six burly Razan robbers, who stood stoically with it on their shoulders. Maguda sat on the litter, watching the faces of the three drugged captives. She took satisfaction at the sight. Each one's eyes were wide open, but unconscious to anybody outside of their potion-induced nightmares. They stared straight ahead, seeing everything that was locked into their personal fears and loathings.

Gizal came hobbling along, her stick tap-tapping the rock walls. She halted by the litter. “Is thy magic working, O mother of spells and charms?”

Maguda nodded. “Aye, 'tis indeed, they are like butterflies pinned on thorns, seeing nought else but that which they cannot stand. Methinks a few weeks of keeping them thus will bend them to my will. They will sing, dance, sketch and plead to please me, 'tis always so.”

Gizal bowed. “Truly thou art the greatest of all the Razan!”