Sanctuary - Lynn Abbey [215]
Very reluctantly—Cauvin descended the ten-rung ladder. Once at the bottom, he felt his way along a dripping, absolutely dark and unbraced tunnel until it split into two branches. Each of the branches branched again within ten paces. The left-side branches had kneedeep trip-pits, as well. If they marked the path Leorin had followed, then she knew it very well because there was no trace of her in the tunnel, not even the scent of smoke from her torch.
He returned to the temple and found a place where he could see or hear anything rising out of the pit but where—he hoped—torchlight wouldn’t find him.
She’s gone to tell them that she’s got me drugged asleep in her room at the Unicorn. She’ll come back this way, because if there were an easier way, she’d have taken it. And she’ll come back soon, ’cause she can’t know how long I’ll stay asleep—
And then, what? And then, what?
The question pursued Cauvin as he sat with his cloak pulled tight. Would he confront Leorin? Demand that she take him to Bec? Could he hurt her? Leave her bleeding or disfigured? What if she truly didn’t know where Bec was? What if she wasn’t alone when she emerged from the pit? What if there was another way out of the bolt-hole?
Cauvin pounded his head against the temple wall. He was sheep-shite stupid, not meant for thinking, and his little brother was paying the price. Three times, he convinced himself he was wasting precious time. Three times Cauvin stood up, determined to leave, and three times he sat down again because he couldn’t think of any place better to be. He was almost ready to stand up a fourth time when ghostly light arose from the pit.
Leorin emerged with a torch, but before Cauvin could decide to confront her, three other figures—men, by their size and movement—rose behind her. Confrontation was no longer a possibility, so Cauvin tailed them from a safe distance, straight back to the Maze. The Unicorn was busy, which was more of a problem for Leorin and her three companions than it was for Cauvin who, staying in the shadows, retraced his path to the roof outside Leorin’s window. He had his ear against the shutter when the latch clicked.
“He’s all yours,” Leorin advised, as lamplight flickered through the slats.
Cauvin squeezed his fist so hard around the brass he wore at his throat that he almost missed what the men had to say.
“Where is he?” Cauvin didn’t recognize the voice, nor could he easily distinguish it from the others who said, with increasing anger. “The bed is empty.” “There’s no one here.” “This is a poor jest, Leorin.” And, finally, in the threatening tone that was the Hand’s natural voice: “You brought us here for nothing.” “You’ve risked everything for nothing.”
Leorin quickly replied, “I gave him a doubled dose. He was—”
Her explanation stopped, cut short by a sound Cauvin did recognize: a well-made fist striking an unprotected gut. Leorin tried to scream for help, but they covered her mouth before anyone other than Cauvin could have heard her plea. It hadn’t been many moments ago that Cauvin had been asking himself if he could hurt Leorin. He had his answer—he couldn’t, but he wouldn’t risk his life to save her, either.
Cauvin waited until the three men had left before climbing into the room. By the light of the lamp the three men had left behind, Cauvin found his wife alive, but unconscious, on the floor beside her bed. They’d beaten her carefully—no blood, no blows to her face, nothing that wasn’t meant to heal without scars. Which meant, in the Hand’s brutal language, that they hadn’t cast her out.
He could have stayed with Leorin until she regained consciousness, but then he’d have to say something to her, and there wasn’t anything he could say that would change anything. He could have gone downstairs and told Mimise that Leorin needed help, but then he’d get the blame for her injuries—assuming, of course, that Mimise or any of the other Unicorn wenches would lift a finger on Leorin’s behalf. He could have