The First Confessor (47 page)

“No,” the first repeated. “We have no better suggestion. You misunderstood. Lothain will of course make an excellent First Wizard.”

“And husband,” she said in cold correction. “Like I said, we’re soon to be married. He will be First Wizard and as such he wants me to serve beside him as his wife.” Again she leaned toward them. “Unless, of course, you two gentlemen have an objection?”

The second man leaned in a little around the first. “Congratulations, Lady Searus. He could have chosen no better woman for his wife. Everyone will be delighted by the news.”

She bowed her head once, acknowledging the proffered praise with a brief, deliberately insincere smile.

“Now, gentlemen, when my betrothed sends me to question one of his prisoners, he fully expects me to return with what he sent me for. Don’t you suppose?”

“Well . . .”

“If you would like, I will wait right here for one of you two to trot on up to his office, interrupt his important work, and question him. Or better yet, we can have him dragged down here just for you two, so that you both can question his wishes and intentions. I’m sure he would be only to happy to explain it to you.” She grinned wickedly as she glanced back over her shoulder at Merritt. “I think that would prove quite entertaining, don’t you suppose?”

Merritt chuckled. “Indeed it would.”

Both guards shared another look. “I don’t think that will be necessary, Lady Searus, as long as—”

“Then open the door!”

They both flinched.

“Of course, Lady Searus,” the first said as he nodded vigorously even as the second was pulling out a big key as he turned to the door.

As Magda started for the door, the first man held up a finger. “Ah, if I might inquire, Lady Searus? I can understand Prosecutor Lothain sending you to see the prisoner, but . . .” He gestured to Merritt. “. . . what would be the purpose of this fellow you have with you?”

Magda glared at the man as if she were having difficulty believing how stupid he was. “Do you really expect me to torture the prisoner for information myself?”

He straightened in relief at the explanation. “Oh, I see what you mean.” He glanced at Merritt’s stony expression and then bowed quickly. “Of course, Lady Searus. I mean, no, of course not.”

The man with the key in his beefy fingers fumbled at getting it into the keyhole. The first man backhanded the side of his meaty arm and told him to hurry. Once the man got the key into the lock, his mouth twisted with the effort of turning it. He strained to turn the key, and it finally threw the bolt back with a loud clang. Both men seized the iron handles. Together, they pulled and tugged. The door appeared to be too heavy to be opened by one man alone. Rusty hinges protested as, inch by inch, the door was jerked open.

When they finally had an opening wide enough to pass through, the first man gestured to the second and under his breath ordered him to get a torch and take the two visitors in to see the prisoner they were interested in. It was obvious that he was eager to be out of Magda’s sight and away from her sharp tongue.

The second man nodded at the instructions and snatched up a torch from a pile at the side against the wall. He bent over the table to quickly light a splinter in the lantern and then set flame to the torch. As soon as he had the torch lit, he gestured for Magda and Merritt to follow as he ducked under the low opening and stepped through the doorway.

Magda hiked up her skirts and stepped over the high threshold. She and Merritt followed the hunched guard into a twisting maze of narrow tunnels that in places were no more than what looked like cracks in the bedrock. They took the second passageway to the left, down a split in the rock that was so narrow they had to turn sideways to pass through it. In places they had to walk through ankle-deep, stinking, stagnant water. To the sides, at intervals, were small iron doors set into places carved out of the solid rock. The fist-sized openings in the doors were all dark.

“Here it is,” the guard said, lifting a finger to the door.

When Magda only stared at him he jumped to stab the key into the lock and turn it. As the bolt clanged back the sound echoed through the cavelike tunnels. Holding the torch in one hand, he used his other to tug the heavy door open. Neither Magda nor Merritt made any move to help him with the difficult task.

When the door was opened enough to pass, Merritt cut in front of the guard and stepped through the doorway first. Magda followed close on his heels. The guard followed them in.

She could see by the light of the glass sphere Merritt was holding that there was a second iron door. The outer room they were in had a ceiling so low that she and Merritt had to stoop over lest they hit their heads. She knew that the cells for the gifted had double doors with an outer room as an extra layer of protection. Besides the iron doors, the small outer room, as well as the inner room, would be heavily shielded.

“Give me the key,” Merritt said to the guard. “You can wait for us back at the entrance.”

The squat, burly guard hesitated. Merritt snapped his fingers and held out a hand, palm up, wiggling his fingers impatiently. The guard reluctantly placed the key in his palm. Seeing the two of them silently waiting for him to leave, he fidgeted a moment, scratched a hairy shoulder, and then stepped back out the first doorway.

He ducked his head back in. “If you need anything, yell. Sound echoes down here, so we’ll hear you.”

“Well, if you hear the woman screaming, that doesn’t mean we need you,” Merritt snapped as he gestured a curt dismissal. “It only means we’re questioning her.”

As Magda watched the torchlight disappear into the distance outside the first door, Merritt unlocked the second. As she waited anxiously, he put his weight into pulling open the inner door. It was so cold down in the dungeon that she could see her own breath rise slowly in the still air.

Finally, the greenish light penetrated into the inner darkness.

There hanging by chains from manacles attached to the wrists of her spread arms, was a bloody, naked woman.

The woman in the center of the inner room hanging by her wrists appeared to be nearly unconscious. She barely slitted her eyelids to see in the dim greenish light from the light sphere who was entering her cell. Only her eyes moved to take in Magda and Merritt.

She wasn’t older, as expected, but instead looked closer to Magda’s age. Her disheveled, straight, jet black hair was shoulder length with bangs that came to just above her eyes. She was so beautiful, even with strings of blood across her face, that Magda found herself pausing for an instant to stare.

Magda’s heart ached at the sight of what had been done to this poor creature.

The woman, even though she was only half conscious, still managed to level a black look at the two people entering her cell. She obviously expected more torture. Even though she was chained and helpless, Magda sensed that this was not a woman to be trifled with.

Magda reached out and gently touched the woman’s cheek. “We’re not here to hurt you. I promise.”

“She tells the truth,” Merritt said in a compassionate voice as he looked around, trying to see if there was a simple way to get her down.

The woman watched Magda’s eyes but didn’t answer.

Magda turned to Merritt. “Get her down, will you?”

“The chains are pinned into the rock. The key is the only way.” Merritt stretched up, fitting the key into the lock in the manacles. Despite how he tried, the key wouldn’t turn. “It doesn’t work,” he said.

“It’s probably rusty,” Magda said. “Try harder.”

“No, it’s the wrong key. I can feel that it doesn’t fit the lock properly. If I try any harder it will just break it off in the lock and then we’ll never be able to get them open.”

Magda started to turn away. “I’ll go get the right key from the guards.”

Merritt caught her arm, stopping her. “I have the right key.”

Magda frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

As the Sword of Truth came out of its scabbard, the blade sent a clear, distinctive ring through the small prison chamber that had been hollowed out of solid bedrock. The steel looked as menacing as the greenish light flared off it as it sounded.

The woman’s eyes widened, expecting the worst.

“They’re heavy iron,” Magda said. “You can’t cut iron with a sword.”

Merritt flashed her a private, one-sided smile before turning to the woman hanging before them. As he lifted her a bit by her forearm and held her steady, he carefully slid the blade of the sword under the iron manacle around her wrist.

“Don’t move,” he told the woman. “I’m going to get these off you. The blade won’t cut you. But just to be sure, don’t move.”

It appeared to be too much effort for the woman to turn her head to see what he was doing. Instead, only her eyes turned to look at his face as he cautiously worked the sword under the iron band. She seemed puzzled; her smooth brow twitched slightly.

“Hold still, now,” Merritt said.

With a mighty effort, the muscles in his neck straining, Merritt pulled the sword.

A loud crack rang out as the metal band shattered. As the blade of the Sword of Truth erupted from under the iron manacle, bits of metal ricocheted off the stone walls and clattered across the floor.

With one arm suddenly freed, the woman’s weight dropped. Her bare feet were finally able to touch the ground, but she was unable to hold her weight and her knees buckled. She hung limp by her other wrist.

Magda could see that her weight hanging in the manacles had cut up her wrists. With the sudden added weight on just one wrist, fresh blood started flowing and running down her arm. Magda swept an arm around the woman’s middle to try to take some of the weight off the bleeding wrist. The woman let out a small moan.

Magda pulled off her cloak and wrapped it around the woman, covering her as best she could even though the woman still had one arm trapped and hanging from the chain pinned in the ceiling. The woman’s lips moved as she whispered her thanks. It was a voice as gracefully feminine as the rest of her.

Merritt tried to work the sword in under the other manacle, but it wouldn’t go. “Can you lift her any? Her weight is pulling her hand into the top of the shackle and I can’t get the sword through.”

Magda nodded and strained to lift the dead weight. “Can you help at all?” she asked the limp woman. “Can you use your legs to lift just a little? For just a moment?”

The woman strained to put weight on her legs. It was just enough of a help for Merritt to start to get the sword through. Magda could feel the woman shaking with the effort.

As soon as Merritt was able to get the blade fully under the manacle, he immediately gave the sword a mighty yank. The iron band shattered with a loud bang. Pieces of iron clanged against the stone walls. One piece hit Magda’s arm. The metal felt hot when it hit her skin and bounced off, but fortunately it didn’t cut her.

The woman collapsed into Magda’s arms. Controlling the descent, Magda went to the ground with the weight of the woman, keeping her from falling hard and hurting herself. Once safely down on the ground, Magda hugged the woman close and pulled the cloak around her, trying to cover her and begin to warm her icy flesh.

“Who did this to you?” Magda asked, unable to contain her anger. “Who put you in here and ordered this done?”

The woman looked up and shook her head. “I don’t know them. Men. Some men.” She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment in a stitch of pain. “I came to help. They wouldn’t let me. They hurt me instead. They said they were going to send me back in pieces to show others what would happen to them as well if they tried to do the same as me.”

“I’m so sorry,” Magda whispered.

Looking rather mystified, the woman frowned as she reached up and touched her finger to a tear rolling down Magda’s cheek.

Magda quickly wiped her cheek. “We’re going to get you out of here,” she told the woman.

The woman laid a hand on Magda’s shoulder. “Thank you, but you can’t help me.”

“Yes, we can,” Magda insisted. “Do you think you can stand?”

“You don’t understand. You must not help me. I am lost. You must leave me. You don’t know what you’re dealing with. The dream walkers will tell their contacts here and then they will do this to you as well.”

Magda shared a look with Merritt.

“We have a way to stop dream walkers from doing that,” Magda said.

“Dream walkers are powerful.” The woman turned her eyes up. “Are you so sure?”

“We’re sure,” Magda said. “Now, can you stand, just until we can get you out of here?”

The woman nodded. “If it kills me I want to walk out of this place.”

Magda had to smile at that. She could easily understand the sentiment.

“I’m Magda, by the way. This is Merritt. He’s gifted. As soon as we get you out of here we’ll protect you from the dream walkers so that they can’t enter your mind, and then when you’re safe, Merritt can heal you.”

The woman reached out and squeezed his hand.

With a finger, Magda lifted some of the jet black hair back off the woman’s face. “What’s your name?”

“Naja Moon.”

It was a name as exotic as the woman’s looks.

“Well, Naja, can you tell me why you came here, to the Keep?”

Naja looked up at Merritt and then back to Magda. “I came because Emperor Sulachan must be stopped or he will destroy the world of life.”

Magda straightened a little as she glanced up at Merritt standing over them with the light sphere. She leaned in again toward Naja.

“How do you know this, Naja?”

“I was his spiritist.”

Before Magda could ask anything else, Naja’s eyes winced closed as she endured a shudder of pain. When the stitch of agony eased up, she struggled to catch her breath as she rested, huddled in Magda’s warm embrace.

Steam from her labored breathing rose into the still air of the small stone cell. Instead of asking anything else for the moment, Magda rubbed the woman’s hands, letting her rest while working some warmth into her icy fingers. The chill of being deep underground was an insidious killer, over time sapping a person’s energy and eventually their life.