The Ritual (27 page)

“I’ve come to negotiate the release of your prisoner!” I called as loudly as I could, and from the periphery of my vision I saw Zash’s head snap up.

There was a moment’s silence, then one of the guards called back, “You are in no position to negotiate. Allow yourself to be captured without struggle and we may be lenient in your punishment.”

This we had expected, so I raised the bottle I held in my right hand. “Approach me and I’ll destroy your bridge,” I called.

That caused a bit of a stir. There was some agitated discussion, then the spokesman shouted, “How?”

I raised the bottle higher, showing them the burning rag stuffed in its neck. “This is full of oil. One step too close and I’ll throw it, and your bridge will go up in flames. You know the oil will cling to everything; you won’t be able to put it out in time.”

At that moment the door opened and several people spilled out, but the guard called down so they stopped in their tracks. I warily took a step back, ready to run, but raised my arm even higher in threat, knowing that this part was critical.

“How will it help you to destroy the bridge? You won’t get your friend back that way,” the guard pointed out.

“This is why I’ve come to negotiate,” I replied. “I offer myself in return for him.”

A stunned silence met my words, followed by more frantic discussion. Three more people had joined the guards on the wall, and a different man took over the conversation – a man in what looked like a more elaborate robe, though it was hard to see from my vantage point.

“Why would we give him up?” the new man shouted. “What makes you think our guards will not find you and catch you anyway?”

“Would this be the guards you were expecting back this morning?” I called back, my heart now beating so fast that I could hear it drumming in my ears. It was almost drowning out all other noise, so I forced my breathing to steady, forced my fear and nerves to the back of my mind.

“If you killed them you’ll pay!” the man raged. “We’ll come for you, and we’ll never give you a moment’s rest!”

“Will you? You’ve not found us in four days, but we know where you are. You can try and catch us, but we will harass you. We’ll kill your visitors, pick your guards off one by one as they come searching for us.” I paused to let that sink in, then said, “Or you can accept my offer and take me in exchange for him. If you do, we will leave you in peace.”

“And why would we believe that? Why would you be willing to give yourself up for him?”

This was the crucial point, the point that everything balanced on. If they didn’t believe this, everything would be lost. “Because I love him,” I replied, and heard my voice break on the word ‘love’.

In the breathless silence I waited, wanting them to believe that I was a foolish woman willing to give up everything for her lover. To an extent it was true, but that didn’t matter – I was counting on them to underestimate me because of what seemed to be silly, overemotional actions. I wanted them to see only a puny woman, blinded by love, and mostly harmless because of it. I dared not look at Zash, but was intensely aware of his gaze, and I hoped he would cooperate as well.

Finally the man called again. “You will come voluntarily?”

“Voluntarily, and unarmed.”

“And the water you stole?”

I shook my head. “Me for him, nothing else.”

“We could just kill him,” the man spat at me, and I took a deep, shaking breath.

“If you do, we will destroy you,” I shouted, my voice unsteady. “We’ll burn your bridge, starve you out. Give him back!” I ended in a shriek.

I waited as they discussed, then saw to my infinite relief that the gibbet containing Zash was pulled inside. “Will you heal him?” I called, but I got no reply.

Time dragged by, and it seemed an eternity later when the door opened again and Zash was pushed out, with two men holding him by his shoulders and one more holding his good arm. They hadn’t healed him, but then I hadn’t expected them to. He still limped a little, but he held his head high and his gaze was fixed on me. Then he wriggled his fingers to catch my attention, and when I looked down he signalled, ‘What are you doing, Little Hair-on-Fire?’

I wanted to laugh, that he would call me that even now, would translate it into thieves’ cant like that. ‘Saving you,’ I covertly signalled back. ‘Trust me.’

“Stop!” I called when they were just shy of halfway down the bridge. “Let him continue alone.”

The men holding him hesitated, and one of them looked behind him for guidance. “Why would we trust you?” the man in charge asked.

“Because I gave you my word that I’ll come, and because you have no choice. I can still destroy the bridge from here.”

After a moment the man gestured curtly, and Zash was shoved towards me. I swallowed as he walked closer, then stopped in front of me, his eyes full of questions and dismay. “I can’t run,” he whispered. “They’ll catch us both now.”

“No they won’t,” I assured him with a sad smile. “I’m coming with them, aren’t I?”

He blinked in surprise. “You’re actually going to do it? Rin, are you crazy?”

“Trust me, Black Eyes. And kiss me like you love me.”

His breath hitched, then he pressed his mouth on mine and kissed me with such passion that I moaned and nearly drew him down to the ground there and then. I could taste the blood in his mouth and wanted to cry when I felt two of his teeth missing, but for a short, timeless moment I knew he was here and would be safe, and I lost myself in the bliss of feeling his lips against mine.

Then reality returned, and time rushed back. “Don’t just stand there, you idiots!” the man on the wall screamed. “Get them!”

“Go!” I breathed to Zash, shoving him past me. I surprised the monks who had guarded him by sprinting towards them, and when I was a good few paces onto the bridge I turned around and tossed the bottle I still held behind me on the planks, where it shattered.

Shani was perfectly on cue: a small fireball exploded at its impact point, and I dived and knocked two of the three men to the planks. The third scrabbled for purchase and only just managed to stop himself from dropping over the side. For myself I tightly held on to one of the ropes and turned around to watch the scene behind me.

This had been my bluff, and the cover for it. We had no oil, of course; we had been lucky to even have the bottle. The rag had continued to burn because Shani had kept it burning, but although she could set the bridge on fire, it was a fire that could be put out easily enough – it took inordinate amounts of energy to keep a fire burning, and she had only been able to keep up the little rag fire without draining herself. Only oil would give a fire that would cling, that would destroy the bridge before it could be quenched, and it had been a more potent threat than a fireball would have been, even a fireball like Shani could produce.

Above me I heard a screech, and I saw two of the tuft-tailed vultures circle overhead. I wondered what had drawn them out, but had no time to think about it much. Already I could see the fire starting to burn lower, but its only purpose now was to give Zash enough time to get away and for Shani and Mior to get him into hiding.

I could see glimpses of them now as they came to fetch him, but only because I knew where to look, so I scrambled upright to continue my distraction. I took one of the men down again, fighting and kicking, but then a hand fisted into my hair and yanked my head up with it so I hissed in pain. I stumbled along as whoever it was pulled me towards the monastery, and heard shouted commands for buckets of water to put out the fire.

As they dragged me inside I knew my part was done – now I had to hope that it had been enough, and that Zash was safe.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The door slammed shut behind me and I was inside, alone but for the men escorting me in.

“You’re g
oing to pay for that, you fucking bitch,” the man holding my hair hissed into my ear, but I kept my eyes low and my body limp, as if despondency had taken hold of me. I could not try to escape, not yet – I needed the others, and they would still be taking care of Zash. I had to bide my time.

Several men rushed past me carrying buckets and I pretended to stumble, tripping one of them up. One less load of water to put out that fire, to hold off pursuit. It earned me another yank at my hair, but although it made my eyes water I did not cry out.

They dragged me further down the corridor, in the opposite direction from where we had gone to steal the water, but before we had reached the first corner of the hexagon I saw a man striding purposefully towards us. He wore a similar robe to the men escorting me, but it was hemmed and bordered with embroidered ribbon, and I presumed that it indicated a higher rank.

“Take her for interrogation,” he snapped as soon as he reached us, “and after that she’s to go to the pillow room.”

“What?” the man holding me flared. “You’re gonna treat this bitch like the others? I say we stick her in the gibbet like that bastard whoreson lover of hers, or chuck her to the vultures. Nearly tipped me over the edge, she did. I want to see her suffer!” He shook me again, and I hissed in pain.

“Nice… religious bunch of… fuckers, aren’t you?” I panted. “I’m sure the Gods are very… pleased with you.”

“Shut up, bitch,” hair-puller spat at me, but then the ranking man spoke over him.

“The abbot says she’s to go to the pillow room, and that’s the end of it. He says that if she’s here for love, she’d better learn about ours.”

Something in the tone of his voice chilled me to the bone, so I reined in my defiance and dropped to my knees as if in defeat. “Let go of me,” I wheedled. “I said I’d come voluntarily, let go of me.”

To my surprise the man complied, though I suspected it had been at the command of the higher-ranking monk. I got up with slow, halting movements and peered at ribbon-robe through my hair, hugging myself protectively. He took a step closer, then took my chin between his fingers and turned my head this way and that as he studied me.

“Quite lovely,” he murmured. “The abbot might not be so displeased after all.” He let my head drop again and gestured to the others. “Come, let’s get this over with.”

I stared at ribbon-robe over my shoulder as two of the men took my arms, a little more gently this time, and led me further down the corridor. The small smile on his face as he followed us made me uneasy, but I pushed it out of my mind as I glanced ahead again, wondering what they were hoping to get out of me by interrogating me, and what in Eternity the pillow room was.

This side of the monastery was as much of a maze as the other side had been. They led me through several corridors, then pushed me into a small room holding two chairs. Ribbon-robe gestured for me to sit down on one of them, and I complied warily as my escort took up positions on either side of the door.

“My name is Tialev, and I’m the prior of this monastery,” he said as he seated himself in the other chair. “We just need some information from you before you go to your new home.” He sounded pleasant now, as if he was merely inquiring after my health, but the warmth in his voice didn’t reach his eyes and I waited for him to get to the point. For his part he seemed to expect some response from me, but since he hadn’t actually asked a question I just sat and peered at him, keeping my head bent in a posture of submission.

Finally he sighed and said, “Let’s start easy, shall we? What is your name?”

I saw no reason to withhold it, so replied, “Chiarin.”

“Chiarin. Good!” he said as if praising a clever puppy. “Now, Chiarin, tell me why you and your friends stole our healing water.”

I blinked at him, then wanted to laugh, though I managed to keep my expression blank. I wondered whether he suspected a reason more complicated than needing to heal someone without paying the fee, but then supposed that since all four of us had been obviously healthy, it wasn’t such a strange assumption to make. The question also told me that they had got nothing out of Zash, which cheered me up considerably.

“I can’t,” I replied.

That earned me a frown. “Can’t? Or won’t?”

“Can’t.”

He sighed again. “Look, I don’t want to have to hurt you.” I nearly snorted at that, but stopped myself just in time, and he continued, “The sooner you tell us, the better it will be for you. Come on, you won’t get punished if you tell me now.”

He was still talking to me like I was a slightly dim-witted child, but although it was annoying it suited my purposes. Still, this conversation wasn’t getting me anywhere, so I played my trump card.

‘We stole the water for it to be used in a ritual,’ I tried to say, and felt my tongue twist the words into a string of unintelligible syllables. The sensation was as unpleasant as Mior had hinted it would be, but it was worth it for the look of sheer astonishment on Tialev’s face.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, clearly thinking that I actually
was
dim-witted, or maybe even crazy.

“Binding Oath,” I clarified, then couldn’t stop myself from adding, just a tad reproachfully, “I did say that I couldn’t tell you.”

“A binding
what?
” Tialev asked, but then one of the guards by the door, the one who had pulled my hair, stepped forward and coughed.

“Prior Tialev, I’ve heard of those,” he said. He bent closer and whispered a few sentences in the man’s ear, then stepped back again while Tialev eyed me thoughtfully.

“Right,” he said, stroking his chin. “Let’s try this a different way then. Did you steal the water for yourself?”

I was about to say ‘no’, then hesitated. Hair-puller was glaring at me still, but with a triumphant little twinkle in his eyes, and I wondered if they were trying to be smart by asking me simple yes or no questions to circumvent the Oath. Yet another thing I could use to my advantage – it was much easier to lie when all you had to say were those two small words. Still, it would not do to let my guard down.

“Yes,” I said, deciding that the lie would serve me better here.

“Just for you, or for you and your friends?”

I bit back a smile. “Yes.”

“Well, which of the two is it?”

‘We stole the water for a ritual,’ I tried to say again, and produced more gibberish.

Tialev cursed, and I could see that he was already losing his temper. “Who wants the water?” he snapped, and I supplied yet another string of random sounds.

I had to admire him for his tenacity, even though I was thoroughly bored with the proceedings before a quarter measure had passed. He continued for a full measure beyond that, trying to trick me and trip me up, but never seemed to realise that I didn’t even need to give him the answer he was asking for. It served my purpose to reply with nothing but gibberish, so whatever question he asked me, I simply gave him a variation of something I couldn’t physically say, and he accepted that I had been trying to tell him the answer. For those questions which I could answer with ‘yes’ or ‘no’ I picked my replies carefully, giving him half lies and half truths which never got him any further either. All throughout I made sure to appear as exasperated as he, as if I was trying to cooperate and couldn’t, and I breathed a covert sigh of relief when he finally gave up.

“Just take her to the pillow room,” he snapped, all pretence of congeniality gone, and stalked out of the room. Hair-puller stepped forward and grabbed my arm, and I quickly stood up to prevent further bruising.

They took me further inside, and although I had tried to engrave the path in my memory, I was by no means sure that I could make my way back to the entrance without getting lost. After a while they stopped at a door guarded by two men, and at a gesture from my escort one of them unlocked it.

When they pushed me through I blinked in startled surprise, for the entire room was filled with women.

A quick glance around showed me that most of them – maybe even all – were half-elves, and between them all they wore less fabric than I did on my own. I also understood why this room was called the pillow room, because the floor was covered in them. The women lounged or slept on them, or sat talking to each other in subdued voices, and from behind floaty gauze drapes at various intervals along the walls came sounds of moaning, grunting and heavy breathing.

“So
this
is what you spend your money on? Your own private whorehouse?” I said incredulously. This many half-elves represented a fortune – as slaves we were expensive, which was why in general only elves could afford us.

“Shut up, bitch,” hair-puller snapped at me. He raised his hand as if to strike me, but the other man stopped him.

“Don’t mark her, Belder, she needs to stay whole,” he warned. I grinned, but he turned to me with a nasty gleam in his eyes and added, “For now.” Then he turned to the room and called, “Tiziel!”

A woman stood up from the corner and hastened towards us. “Master?” she said, her eyes cast downward and her posture radiating servility.

“New girl for you,” he snapped. “Wash her and find her a bunk, we’ll send a sleeper. Sort her out for the usual tomorrow.”

“Yes, master,” Tiziel whispered, sending a glance in my direction which looked equal parts awed and afraid. I wondered what they meant with a sleeper, but when Tiziel began to pull at my hand I resisted and turned to the hair-puller.

“Belder, is it?” I said quietly, studying him closely. “I’ll remember your name, and your face.”

He laughed. “Of course you will, you ginger bitch, you’ll be seeing it every day from now on when I come to fuck you.” He turned and pointed at one of the girls on the floor, seemingly at random. “You! Come here.”

She did as she was told, and I saw that she was probably a little younger than me. When she stopped in front of him Belder casually squeezed her breasts, then groped her between her thighs. “See that?” he sneered at me. “That’s all she is: a pair of tits and a cunt. That’s all you’ll be as well, just remember that.”

I knew he was goading me – and succeeding at it – but my seething anger pushed away any fear I might still have felt. It took all I had not to smash my fist into that smug face and claw his eyes out, but I knew that I still had to bide my time, still had to wait for the right moment. That the right moment might be
after
one of these bastards tried to have their way with me was something I refused to dwell on.

“Oh, I’ll remember,” I replied icily, then finally gave in to Tiziel’s incessant tugging at my arm. As I walked away Belder dragged the girl to one of the gauzy curtains, and I wanted to scream at my current impotence. I had never truly felt that I wanted to kill anyone in my life, but right here and now I could have killed Belder without a shred of remorse.

I felt another tug at my sleeve. “You mustn’t look, come,” Tiziel whispered, and I turned to see her eyeing me fearfully. To appease her frightened eyes I went with her, trying to push Belder out of my mind.

She took me to the only other proper door in the room, opposite the one I had come in through, and I saw that it was a dormitory, filled from end to end with triple bunk beds. “Gods, how many of you live here?” I asked, but she hushed me and didn’t answer, taking me through the dormitory and into a bathroom behind it, locking the door and taking out the key.

I continued to be surprised. The bathtub was spacious and sunk into the floor, and when Tiziel opened a tap I saw that the water that came out was steaming hot. She added cold water from another tap, testing the temperature now and then, and when she seemed satisfied she switched off the taps and took a stack of towels out of a cupboard. In the meantime I had sauntered around the room, studying the walls, but there was only one door, and Tiziel was clasping the key as if it was a lifeline.

When she walked over to a shelf containing glass bottles with strange, colourful contents I walked up behind her in curiosity, and saw that they appeared to hold some sort of fine gravel.

“What’s that?” I asked, and Tiziel turned around, startled. She said nothing though, and I sighed in exasperation. “Look, will you please talk to me? We’re alone and you’ve locked the door, so who would know?”

She glanced over her shoulder, then back at me. “But the masters…” she whispered.

“Fuck the masters!” I exclaimed, then winced. “Ehh, I suspect that you do. Bad choice of words, sorry.”

She gave a small, involuntary giggle, and I felt encouraged at last. “Hi,” I said patiently, “my name is Chiarin, and you’re obviously Tiziel. Now will you please answer my questions? I have no idea what you’re planning to do with me, what I’m being prepared for, and I don’t like not knowing things. We’re alone for now, and I guess if that worried them they’d have sent someone with us. Since they haven’t, we’re
good for now, right?”

She glanced over her shoulder again, but then she finally nodded. “I’ll talk,” she said, though her voice was so quiet that I had to strain to hear her. “But you mustn’t talk back to the masters, mustn’t provoke them. They will punish you if you do.”