From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [62]
Shung stood and stomped one foot. “As you wish, Little Cham.” He bounded to the door and opened it so fast he almost ripped it off its hinges.
Kurtz, who’d been on guard in the hall, swung around to look inside the door, one hand on the hilt of his sword. He met Achan’s gaze through the open doorway. “Hello, Pacey.”
Achan grinned at Kurtz’s use of the nickname he’d given him on their visit to a tavern in Tsaftown. They had pretended to be sailors just into port. Achan had been an oarsman. “Hello, Kurtz.”
Shung darted past Kurtz. The floor shook lightly as his footsteps pounded down the hall at a run.
Kurtz turned to watch Shung. “Where are you going, eh?”
Achan stood and stretched. “I’ve sent him on an errand, Kurtz. I’m afraid you’ll have to guard the door a bit longer. For Lady Gali awaits.”
10
A whip cracked. A man screamed.
“It weren’t me. I swear! Ask Murgon. Ask him, I say!”
Vrell pushed her fingertips into her ears and squeezed her eyes shut. Her hands trembled, creating a hum that only agitated her distress. Closing her eyes could not stifle the stench of urine, dirt, and moldy bread.
Reggio Levy had no right to put her here. A noblewoman should not be kept in a dungeon. Reggio’s audacity had always been borderline insane. But to take her from the Corner at Sitna Manor and throw her here? Had the man no sense of propriety? More importantly: did he really plan to give her to Esek? Could Esek truly be alive?
The muted screaming stopped. Vrell released her ears and opened her eyes. The torchlight from the corridor painted stripes of light across the dirt floor of her cell. Her skirt had fallen to the ground again, and she wrapped the rough fabric around her knees as if bundling something precious. Or keeping something hideous out. That fear had kept her from sleep. Was it morning yet?
Her cell was dark and, thankfully, vacant, though a cot, stool, or some kind of blanket would have been nice. The front of her cell consisted of a half wall of stone with iron bars running from the top of the wall to the ceiling. She sat against the stone, knees to her chest, just to the left of the barred door. Full walls of iron bars divided her cell from others. Hers looked to be in the middle of a dozen or more along this row, for she could see men at various distances on both sides, trapped behind the bars like the teeth on a comb.
Vrell tried not to look at the back wall, but her gaze continually flitted to the iron rings hanging from the stone. She shuddered at the memory of Achan hanging from such rings in his cell in Mahanaim while Lord Nathak’s guard whipped him. She prayed she would not meet the same fate.
If she had followed her own instincts instead of caving to Gren, she would be in Allowntown by now. But what was done was done, and fuming would not change her circumstances. She should contact Mother, she supposed.
Mother would be furious.
She prolonged the inevitable tongue-lashing by focusing on Bran’s mind instead. She found him in an even darker room than her dungeon cell. The hairs on Vrell’s arms tingled. Something was wrong.
Bran’s wrists stung. What did Prince Oren say, Sir Jax?
That he can do nothing for us at present. Jax’s voice boomed from the darkness on Bran’s left. Promised to inform Sir Caleb of our plight, but I told him I can manage that. He’s got enough to worry about.
Quite right. Sir Rigil’s voice came from Bran’s right. Do take care, Jax. Lord Agros is Sir Caleb’s brother.
I had forgotten, Jax said. Do you think I should message Sir Gavin instead?
No, Sir Rigil said. Sir Caleb is Prince Achan’s closest advisor, and we were returning to Prince Oren on the prince’s orders. I’m afraid you must message Sir Caleb.
Jax did not answer again, and Vrell suspected his message to Sir Caleb was being sent. What could have happened? Were they in a dungeon too?
We were too lax, Sir Rigil said. I should have had Jax bloodvoice Lord Agros before we approached the gate.
That conniving old blackguard!