Part 37 (1/2)

He obeyed, a thing that Aine might have found smugly pleasing under other circ.u.mstances. She focused her attention on the heavily barred door with its mechanical lock. She'd never tried to manipulate a lock before. In theory, it should be like manipulating any physical object. The only problem was, she had no idea what the inner mechanism of the lock looked like. She could not visualize the metal gears, or tumblers or whatever lay within. So, she prodded and poked with aislinn fingers, her tongue caught between her teeth, listening to Saefren's labored breathing in the darkness.

The lock defied her every attempt to open it. Finally, with her head pounding and sweat chilling her body, she gave up in complete frustration.

”I can't do this,” she admitted. ”The mechanism is too complicated.”

There was a moment of silence from within the cell, then Saefren's strangled voice said, ”Then you'll . . . have to . . . leave me here.”

Aine laid her forehead against the bars and fought a moment of impotent rage. First Iseabal, now Saefren. ”Never say you can't,” she murmured and got to her feet. ”If I can't open the door, then we need to get the gaoler to open it. And the collar as well.”

”How?”

”Cry out. Pretend you're choking.”

”I am choking,” he returned wryly.

”Feich doesn't want you dead. If the gaoler thinks you're choking . . .”

”Then . . . what?”

Aine grinned fiercely in the dark. ”You'll see . . . I hope. Just start yelling.”

He did as told, giving a convincing portrayal of a man on the verge of suffocating. So convincing was he that the cloaked Aine cringed and covered her ears.

In short order, torch light spilled onto the corridor floor and two men appeared, keys and torch in hand. Aine all but held her breath as they took quick stock of the prisoner's red face and heaving chest.

He's choking to death, Aine suggested, hoping it might help.

The chief gaoler, a Malcuim regular, slipped the key into the lock and opened the cell door. Inside, he moved to check the collar.

”Bring the torch in, Olery,” he demanded when his shadow fell across the clasp.

His partner did as commanded, squeezing into the narrow s.p.a.ce behind him and flattening himself against the wall to his mate's right, arm raised to throw torchlight onto the collar. Smoke from the fiery wand curled along the ceiling making both men wheeze.

The gaoler took up another key and fitted it to the collar's lock.

”You Claeg are a whiney lot,” he observed, giving the panting Saefren a cruel shake. ”I'd let you choke, if it was me calling the plan. You've caused the Malcuim House a d.a.m.n lot of grief over time, but you're worth something to Regent Feich, so I suppose I've got to let you out of this collar, eh?”

”Oh, just do it!” muttered the other guard-a Dearg. ”My arm's set to fall off.”

The key turned, the iron band sprang open, Saefren sagged dramatically to his knees and the torch went out. In the chaos after, Aine draped her Cloakweave over Saefren and silently begged him to recall which way the door was. There was a mad scramble, thuds, a yelp of pain and the sound of a body falling heavily to the straw-covered stone.

A moment later, Aine felt someone brush by her on hands and knees, saw the faint s.h.i.+mmer of aislinn energy, and reached out a hand to grasp Saefren's shoulder as he scurried by. With the other hand, she pulled the cell door to and was gratified to hear the lock spring shut. Wordlessly, she dragged Saefren to his feet and hurried him out of the corridor.

He stopped her as they were crossing the anteroom. ”What about the others?” he whispered, just making himself heard over the shouts of the captive gaolers. ”There are other Taminists here in the next corridor.”

”No time. When they find their keys-” The sharp clink of metal was followed by the feel of a ring and rods being pressed into her hand.

”I'm not entirely useless,” Saefren told her.

”If we free them, they may be killed trying to escape. I can't cloak them all.”

”Can't, Aine Red? Can't? I didn't think you knew the word. If we leave them here, they'll surely be killed.”

They freed every prisoner in the Mertuile gaol block. And Aine did cloak them through lamplit halls and dark, past guards and guests and gatekeepers. She did not think about those left behind until she and Saefren and their two dozen or so charges were safe on the dark wharves above Saltbridge.

Later, as they took secret pa.s.sage upriver in boats piloted by the father and brothers of a Carehouse Aelder Prentice, her mind and heart flew to them-Abbod Ladhar, whose secret dungeon they could not find, and Iseabal, whose own body now served as a prison. Sitting at the rail, staring sightlessly over the black flow of the Halig-tyne, Aine did not even realize tears were falling till a hand brushed them from her cheek. She blinked and looked up into Saefren Claeg's face.

”For Iseabal?” he asked and she nodded. He crouched next to her at the rail. ”She told you the Meri would take care of her, you said.”

Again, she nodded.

”Then it seems to me you must believe her.” He put a hand on her shoulder, its warmth melting through the fog-damp layers of her clothing. ”Have faith, Aine.”

He have the shoulder a squeeze, then turned his eyes out to the river.

She followed suit, wondering a little that he should be consoling her with advice on faith.

”Oh, and thank you,” he murmured, eyes still on the water.

”Welcome,” she whispered and laid her head wearily on the rail.

Sleep. Dear G.o.d, but he wanted sleep. Long ago he'd ceased to feel his legs and feet and the water had spread through his clothing like oil through a wick, chilling him to the marrow. What parts of him were not numb ached horribly.

When the water had risen to his chest he had been forced to stand. His legs had barely held him then; his sodden clothing freighted him down, the chains he wore tugged at him, there was no wall for him to lean against. It had been almost a relief when the water level reached his chest a second time-it had at least buoyed him up somewhat.

Now he sat as the icy liquid fled, knowing he could not survive another high tide. He had prayed much, wondered if the Taminists had had sufficient time to escape or hide, and strove to make his peace with G.o.d. He could now admit he did not understand all that had transpired since Taminy-a-Cuinn had been brought to Creiddylad. He now realized he had been swept along on the currents of events he could in no way control-like this insidious, freezing tide he was powerless to stop from sucking the life out of him. What a petty conceit to think he was master of his fate or anyone else's. He was not.

He pondered his own actions, realizing he had been at least in part responsible for Daimhin Feich's rise to power.

Responsible, too, perhaps, for Cyne Colfre's death. A death he now suspected had been at Feich's hand. He wondered if, in warning Fhada of Feich's intention to raid Carehouse, he had paid on his debt of sin or added to it.

”Do you doubt that choice, Ladhar?”

He looked up. The Osraed Bevol sat, not three feet away, perched, it seemed, on a jag of native rock-or perched above it in the ether. He s.h.i.+mmered within an Eibhilin veil, his Meri Kiss bright as the first evening star. And what surprised Ladhar most of all was his own lack of surprise at seeing him.

”Ah, Shade, so you now haunt this spot, do you?”

”No more than you do.”

”I'm chained here by these.” Ladhar raised his wrist manacles, rattling the chains that anch.o.r.ed him to the floor. ”What binds you here?” He glanced around, uneasily, certain the receding water would reveal Bevol's mouldering corpse.