The Born Queen - J. Gregory Keyes [107]
Of course, it might be days. He wished he could have gone.
He found a window facing east and watched the Donau flow toward the sea.
Night came, and he reluctantly took to his bed.
As the door burst open, Neil was already on his feet and reaching for Battlehound. He shook back the Queryen webs from his eyes, trying to remember where he was and who might be coming at him with blinding lanterns.
“Lay your arms down,” a voice commanded. “In the name of Marcomir, king of Hansa, give up that sword.”
Neil hesitated. There were a lot of them. He had slept in his gambeson, which would afford a little protection, but he couldn’t see how they were armored.
“I am Queen Muriele’s man,” he said. “I am here on embassy and claim the rights that come with that.”
“You’ve no such rights, not anymore,” the man behind the lanterns said. “Give up that weapon and come with us.”
“I will see my queen first.”
“She isn’t here,” the man replied.
Neil charged.
Something heavy came from behind the light and smacked him on the side of the head. He stumbled, and hands gripped his sword arm. He swung his left fist and connected with someone and was rewarded by a grunt. Then they were all over him, punching, pummeling, kicking. His hands were lashed behind his back, a blindfold was tied on his face, and they dragged him from the room and through the castle for what seemed like an infinity. Then they were out of doors for a while, then back inside, in a place where the air felt very heavy. He was finally pushed roughly to the ground and heard the slamming of a metal gate. The floor smelled like urine.
He lay there for a bit and then started working at the bonds. It didn’t take much. They had gone on quickly and sloppily, and he’d kept tense as possible while they had tied them. Once they were off, he removed the blindfold.
It didn’t help much. It was still utterly dark.
By feel he discovered that he was in a stone cell barely large enough to lie down in and not quite tall enough to stand in.
His heart picked up a bit. He’d grown up on the moors and mountains and open sea. Even spacious rooms with no windows made him feel trapped.
This—this would drive him mad right quickly.
He lay back down so that he couldn’t feel any of the walls and tried to imagine he was on the deck of a ship, with the clouds rolling overhead.
He wasn’t sure how long it was before he heard footsteps. He both fastened on them and tried not to hope. What hope was there? That Alis had followed, killed whatever guards there were, and was ready to spirit him to safety?
Then he heard a feminine voice, and the ridiculous hope suddenly found roots.
It wasn’t Alis, of course, but a large gray-haired woman dressed in a peculiar black robe. Four other women in similar habit and a large man who stank as much as the floor accompanied her.
“I am Walzamerka Gautisdautar, the king’s inquisitor,” she said. “You will not struggle. You will answer my questions. If you want any answers at all, if you want to live until tomorrow, you will hang on my every word, as if I were the mother who gave you life, for I am surely the one who can take it away.”
“I’m at your mercy,” Neil said. “Only tell me how my queen is.”
“Your queen has been kidnapped,” the woman said. “We are searching for her now.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Yes, by Prince Berimund, if you can believe it.”
“They were going hunting—”
“Indeed. Instead he abducted her. Do you have any idea why?”
“None. It makes no sense to me.”
“To me, either.” She paused. “You should know we’ve captured your little coven-trained spy, as well.”
Neil didn’t say anything to that.
“Very well,” Walzamerka said. “Come along and mind your manners.”
The inquisitor led him down past a line of cells like his, up some stairs, and into a long, narrow hallway. Then they went up two minor staircases and finally ascended a long winding one, so he reckoned he was in one of the towers.
They emerged at last into a room lit with gentle candlelight. He blinked, and for a moment he felt a strange movement of time, as if he had gone back months and was