Part 3 (1/2)

Chapter8.

Evil Walks.

-n blind darkness, the first of Daenara's senses to return was her sense of smell. The poignant scent of leather hung heavy in the air. When her vision cleared and the shadow dispersed, she found herself sitting a chair. Luseph stood over her as though he had only just placed her there. She recognised she was in a study. It was a comfortable room yet for all its furnis.h.i.+ngs still felt hollow and stark. To the left of a writing table was a secretive-looking door; to the right was a small series of stone steps leading up into his bedchambers.

”This establishment,” Luseph said, going over to an impressive bookcase, ”is dedicated to the collection and preservation of all necromantic knowledge.” He ran his hand affectionately across the leather spines. ”It's important that you understand why I'm doing this.” He turned his eyes, which gleamed like ice, toward her. ”I have spent my nights and days in darkness, because I believe I can make things right.”

He spoke pa.s.sionately, but his face was inanimate, set cold with a single purpose and determination. Thought, suffering, and perseverance had all been at work upon his features so that the gaunt face could scarcely be recognised as her own husband.

”Where is Deacon?” she asked, rising unsteadily.

”He is safe and well,” said Luseph, simply and unaffected.

”For how long will he be?”

The sting of accusation in her voice, along with knowledge of what was to come, caused Luseph to turn his back, resting his hand on the bookcase, his dark brows knitted. ”Do not lose faith in me, Daenara,” he said and showed evident signs of suffering. Seeing him thus distressed Daenara restrained the words of scorn that burned on her lips. Her face suddenly waned.

”How can I not?” she asked. ”I don't know who you are anymore.”

”Yes, you do,” he answered quickly, his voice low and tense. ”I am the same.”

”No, you are not!” she said in almost a cry. ”I never saw a person so changed in all my life!”

There was a heavy weight in the air before he answered. ”I am only doing what I must.”

”Will you let me go to him?” she asked without any hope of him granting her request. He did not answer. His neck was stiffened-set stubbornly against the misery of his position. At length he turned round, with a look almost mournful. He went to her, and as he drew very near, she held her place with faltering courage. He raised his hand to touch her, but with such heavy constraint on himself that his hand trembled, and catching himself up, he clenched his fist and placed it to his lips. He held her gaze with unspoken words, searching the depths of her being with the cold, blue flame in his gleaming eyes. She turned from him with sudden aversion, looking downward.

His iron will still holding its required position, the purpose which dominated his mind still unbroken, he could not soften to her, but nor could he inflict violence. ”Would you like to sit by the fire?” he asked, tentatively.

”If you wish it,” she said, as if against her will.

For a moment or two Luseph held back before following after her. His heart was beating fast. There was a great deal of sorrow in his pleasure of having her with him. Presently, he seated himself opposite. He did not look at her but stared into the flame. He had become slighter, more spectral. An indefinable alteration had come over him and his entire manner. Something in him, inhuman and immovable, disturbed her.

”He shudders when I touch him,” Luseph said at last.

”Because he fears you,” she answered, her voice like a whip in the soundless room. ”Because you would use him in your game against Travon, who has done nothing but-”

”Travon is a fool,” Luseph muttered between clenched teeth and rose sharply to his feet. ”He limits man of his potential and condemns him to a life of subordination. His dictatorial arrogance will have us all prostrated before a single master.” Luseph had considerable command over his countenance, but the control cost him, the strain evident in his features. He shook his head with incredulous bitterness. ”At what a tremendous height above the rest of us does Travon place himself. In time he will bring suffering upon the land.”

After a moment he regained composure and looked long and hard at Daenara. She sat rigid in her chair, panting, with eyes set on him as though she would destroy him.

”Do you honestly believe,” said Luseph, dispa.s.sionately, ”that those men would deliver Deacon from evil, when Travon would have every last Riven annihilated? He hates them. Fears them.”

Daenara blinked, uncertain. An attempt had been made on her life. She could not, however, believe that Aeoden or eomus had any part in it. ”Travon would kill you and Deacon with his own hands if he were less of a coward. Life has little meaning to him beyond his own gain.”

”And what of you?” Daenara asked. ”What is your fascination with death?”

”Life is where my fascination lies; to understand life you must also understand the mysteries of death.”

”You are not so very different from him,” she said. ”You show to perfection how easily idealism can twist into cruelty that you would use your own son-”

”I would not hurt him!” Luseph broke in pa.s.sionately.

”I do not believe you!”

”I would not. Not more than is necessary to achieve what must be achieved.” Then, suddenly careworn, his expression waned. ”Come.” He beckoned in a wearied way. ”Be not far from me. Come nearer to me.”

When Daenara made no move, he crouched down before her and clasped affectionately the inert hands that rested in her lap. His features had softened, but always was this underlying ma.s.s of cold, unliving darkness beneath the surface.

”At the end you will see that this was all necessary,” he said, officiously.

”The end never justifies the means,” she said, hating him for his cold blood. Then, low and trembling, ”I despise you.” Yet even as she spoke her heart was breaking. Not a muscle in his body moved, not one whisper of breath showed that he was living, only he stared with an intensity that was menacing. She was shuddering slightly and looked back at him with dark eyes.

”Take care,” he said, with a coolness that from any other man might have been anger. He left Daenara to sit dazed and alone, disappearing behind the secretive door. The instant it was shut behind him, Daenara was on her feet and at the door to the study, which she was surprised to find not fastened, and slipped out. Luseph evidently cared little that she wandered the building and had taken no pains to fasten the lock.

Without a thought of where she was going Daenara went purely by feeling. Torches lining the walls were barely sufficient to bring luminance to the terrible place, and she had not yet come across any living person. Black forms-shapeless and mute-glided past every now and then: ghostly shapes that drifted without purpose. Each time one pa.s.sed, Daenara closed her eyes. She was loath to consider what other night-wonders inhabited this abominable place. Most of the doors were locked, and from behind some she could hear the inhuman wails and mournful bellows of tormented creatures. They drew the deepest pity from Daenara and made her all the more desperate to find Deacon.

She came across a majestic archway with strange and frightful carvings. Beyond the archway was an enclosed garden. Odd things grew here that filled the air with the pungent, earthy scent of resin and plant life. Several people clad in black and purple robes gathered herbs, performing the task devotedly. She left quickly again, unnoticed. Walking down a hallway Daenara observed two men slumped on a stone bench. At first she thought them dead, for their bloated bodies were limp and partially decayed, their clothes tattered and torn. She was horrified to discover they were not.

She checked a scream that leapt to her throat, as the bodies rose to their feet in a dozy, ungainly manner. To see corpses endowed with life made Daenara's abhorrence of the place become all the greater. They slowly started toward her. Their brains seemed stupefied, like men walking in their sleep. The ankle of one of them rolled gruesomely under itself in a dreadful limp, as though the bone itself was broken, but there showed no signs of pain in the lackl.u.s.tre eyes, which stared forward apparently without sight. Deep droning moans issued from their gaping mouths without articulation or any sign of comprehension.

As they advanced down the hall in their gruesome fas.h.i.+on, Daenara stood aside, pressing against the wall. As they pa.s.sed, the odour of decay and damp earth was oppressive. She quickly moved on round the corner. There, leaning next to some door, was Preston. He was talking casually to a young woman when he looked up and saw Daenara. Pus.h.i.+ng himself off the wall, he dismissed the girl and addressed the newcomer with a touch of patronization.

”Are you lost?” he asked. ”Perhaps I can help you find your way back.”

That he had been the only one to notice her gave Daenara the impression that the youth knew something. She confronted him and demanded what they had done with her child. Preston remained pa.s.sive and smug. She pushed past him, frantically grasped the door handle, and shook it impatiently.

”Open it,” she demanded.

Unhurriedly, Preston unlocked the door for her. He barely stood aside as she pushed through and tumbled into a dark room. Her heart sank to find it empty. Preston stepped into the room behind her.

”It is perhaps wise,” he said, ”that you do not bring my master's anger down upon yourself. Allow me to return you to him.”

The arrogance of the youth's composure infuriated Daenara. ”What have you done with him?” she demanded. The outburst of pa.s.sionate feeling struck Preston with an intense force, and he was hurled against the wall out in the hallway. Slumping down, he was a moment stunned. He soon recovered, and with his hands splayed across the wall for support, slowly drew himself up. Daenara was doubtful now, startled by her own outburst. Preston advanced with a tense walk and clenched fist. She stumbled back from him. He caught her arm roughly. He had meant to strike her, but in the same instant compelled himself to regain control over his temper.

”Do not anger me,” he said, jerking her toward him. In no gentle fas.h.i.+on he escorted her back to Luseph's study, and shoving her over the threshold, closed the door, leaving her alone.

Luseph was still shut up in the strange room. She could hear hideous and convoluted speech and Luseph conversing in some black tongue to whatever made such tortured intonations. She started when the door suddenly opened and Luseph emerged. He looked strange and abstracted, as though dwelling in the nether regions between life and death.

He sat wearily at his writing table, in silence, eyes drawn under dark brows. Presently, he raised an open palm to indicate the door behind her. Daenara turned and saw it open. Preston entered and held the door open briefly for another. Daenara's heart leaped when she saw the little treasure she cherished so dearly wander into the room. She uttered a sob, and in an instant was on her knees, smothering him with kisses and frantic caresses, in between searching his body to see if he was still intact.