All right, don’t panic, Ravagin ordered himself sternly. Let’s try thinking, instead.
For starters, unlike the more proletarian sky-plane, the bubble had clearly been designed to be functionable indoors. A quick experiment showed it had none of the sky-plane’s aversion to walls, either, which meant Ravagin should have no trouble getting it downstairs. But ramming doors and trolls without the force-field going wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind when he’d come up here. “Force-field on,” he said. Nothing. “Bubble on. Bubble activate. Be bubbled. Uh … shield on. Simrahi: bubble on. Damn it all—” He broke off, thinking furiously. All right: try changing perspective. How would a castle-lord refer to the force-field? As a shield? An aura? “Aura on.” Or might the command be keyed to the more visible aspects of the field? “Haze on. Sphere on. Golden on. Goldlight on.”
And abruptly the room around him was filled with orange haze.
“I have the very bad feeling,” Habri said tightly, “that your sorcerer friend has run out on us.”
“He’s not my friend,” Danae said dully, keeping her eyes on Habri’s feet. Habri’s feet, and the feet of the two huge men sitting on the step on either side of her. There wasn’t much to look at down there, but people who knew they were defeated seldom maintained eye contact with their conquerors. “He’s just an acquaintance—and not even much of that, it seems,” she added, letting a touch of bitterness seep into her voice.
Habri was silent a moment. All around them, she could sense that the growing nervousness in the men sitting on the stairway was dangerously close to the breaking point. How long would it be, she wondered, until Habri decided that Ravagin had indeed failed? And when that happened, what would they do?
They would retreat, of course, hoping to postpone their revolt to a more auspicious time. Retreat, taking her with them for Habri to vent his frustration and anger on.
And whatever had happened to Ravagin—whether he was dead or a prisoner—she couldn’t count on him to get her out of this one. Swallowing hard, she licked her lips and let her shoulders slump a bit more where she sat. Only by being a weak, helpless female could she have any hope of survival.
“Apparently he valued his own skin more than he did yours,” Habri said abruptly. “But I made a bargain—your help for your freedom—and if he has taken the freedom, you are still here to provide the help I want. Torlis, Carmum—bring her. Masmar, hold the men here until I give the signal.”
And before she knew what was happening, Danae found herself yanked to her feet and half led, half dragged up the stairs. “Are you crazy?” she hissed at Habri. “You’ll alert the trolls—”
“That is precisely what I intend to do,” the other said grimly. He had his sword in his hand now; beside Danae, the guard he’d called Carmum had released her arm and similarly drawn his blade. “And I, not you, will do all the talking,” Habri added, waving the tip of his sword near her throat. “Is that understood? Not a word, or Carmum and Torlis will vie for the privilege of killing you.”
She managed to nod. He’s gone totally insane, she thought desperately, heart pounding in her throat. Good God, what do I do?
Habri topped the stairs and headed straight across the room toward the trolls, Danae and Torlis close behind him as Carmum dropped back a pace. Habri made no attempt to be silent, and Danae saw with a sinking feeling that all four trolls had their crossbow pistols pointed before the intruders had taken their third step. “Ho, trolls of the Castle-Lord Simrahi,” Habri called across. “I bring news to the castle-lord that cannot wait until morning.” He half gestured back to Danae and Torlis. “I have uncovered a traitorous plot to usurp the castle-lord’s throne, with this sorcerous woman and this guard at the head.”
Danae gasped in shock, shock that quickly turned to pain as Torlis squeezed her arm warningly. “The castle-lord is not to be disturbed until morning,” one of the trolls called back, its flat voice sending a violent shiver up Danae’s spine. Flashback to the confrontation outside the Tunnel … except that this time the trolls’ electromechanical reflexes wouldn’t be hampered by spirit meddling. Habri would get them to open the door—would attempt to gain entry to Simrahi’s chambers—and the trolls would fight back.
And they would all die.
She clenched her teeth, then forced herself to relax them. With only one option left, the agony of decision making was gone, leaving an almost morbid peace in its place. It’s now or never, girl, she told herself. At least this way they won’t get the door open. Who knows?—if you’re fast enough, the trolls might even let whatever’s left of you surrender to them. Taking a deep breath, she eyed Torlis, choosing the best spot to hit him—
And behind the trolls, the doors exploded outward in an explosion of golden light.
The thunderous clamor as the heavy wood slammed the trolls to the floor almost but not quite drowned out Habri’s startled expletive. But the traitor recovered fast. Danae’s mind had barely had time to register the fact that the orange explosion was actually a chair and human figure encased in a glowing sphere when Habri gave a loud shout and charged toward the stairway now laid wide open before him. The grip on Danae’s arm tightened as Torlis broke into a run behind his leader, forcing her to do likewise. Behind her, Carmum came past them on her other side, while a quick glance showed the rest of Habri’s army streaming up into the room with swords drawn. Ahead, the orange sphere was slowing from its high-speed impact; the trolls were still struggling to get out from under the rubble of the shattered doors—
And planting one foot, Danae pulled sharply on her arm, yanking Torlis off balance, and drove her free fist hard into his armpit.
The other bellowed, letting go of her arm as if he’d been scalded. He spun around, his expression a mixture of pain and utter astonishment. That’s right, you scum, Danae thought toward him with grim satisfaction. The weak, helpless female is gone. As a matter of fact, she was never really here.
His astonishment lasted only a second before he bellowed again and swung his sword in a vicious horizontal arc … but that one second was all she needed. Even as the sword slashed toward her side, she dropped to her left forearm and hip and kicked out with both feet directly at his knees.
The double crack was audible even over the war cries from behind and the troll alarms from ahead. Torlis toppled over backwards, screaming in agony, and Danae was free. Tucking her legs back under her, she rolled back to her feet—
Just in time to duck as a second sword whistled past her nose. Carmum, come back to help his comrade.
He’d caught her off guard, but the sword was already past her, and until he could stop its motion and bring it back around she would have the advantage. Giving a gut-tightening shriek, as Hart and her combat instructors had long ago taught her to do, she swung her empty hand up as if to throw something in Carmum’s eyes. Empty or not, the other’s blink reflex still cut in, and for a split second he was blind. Leaping toward him, Danae lowered one hand to block any backswing of the sword and swung the edge of the other toward his throat—
And dropped to the floor as, out of nowhere, the orange sphere rammed full into her opponent.
“Damn,” she breathed, scrambling to her feet. The sphere came tightly around and abruptly the orange glow vanished. She took a long step, leaped upward to grab Ravagin’s outstretched hand, and a second later was wedged beside him in the crystalline throne.
“Goldlight on” he snapped. The orange sphere reappeared, and suddenly his arms were around her, holding her tightly to him.
She hugged back with equal strength, feeling her arms beginning to tremble with reaction. “You okay?” he asked anxiously into her ear.
“I’m fine,” she gasped back. “I was afraid you’d been captured. Where did you get this—my God, is this a bubble?”
“Sure is.” Ravagin twisted partly away from her, freeing one hand while leaving the other still around her. “Throne: follow my mark; mark.”
Danae turned her head to find they we
re moving toward the doorway Ravagin had just shattered. Beyond the golden glow, she could see some of Habri’s men were already on the stairs and heading up. “Ravagin! Habri’s past the trolls—”
“I know,” he said grimly. “Throne: more speed; continual mark. Goldlight off.”
And before she realized just what he was doing, the chair abruptly darted forward to follow his pointing hand through the doorway and up the stairs.
She inhaled sharply, stomach twisting with the sudden upward movement even as a spasm of claustrophobia tried to tie knots into it. “Ravagin!—the bubble—”
“Not enough room in here to use it,” he barked. He was right on that count; between walls, ceiling, and running people, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of room in the stairway. “I don’t want to run anybody down.”
“You don’t want to run down traitors?”
“Nope—I want to save them for Simrahi.”
They shot past the last of the climbers—Habri himself—reached the top of the stairs—
“Goldlight, on; throne, stop,” Ravagin snapped; and with a hard deceleration that nearly threw Danae off the chair the orange glow reappeared and the throne came to a dead halt.
Neatly blocking the stairs.
Ravagin took a shuddering breath. “I’ll be damned,” he said, something midway between awe and disbelief in his voice. “It actually worked. Well … Throne: rotate one-half turn.” Smoothly, the chair turned to face back down the stairs.
“You carhrat!” Habri spat at them, waving his sword impotently at the golden haze. “You spineless, lying bastard of a carhrat! I offered you your freedom and you repay me with treachery—”
Danae glanced at Ravagin, half expecting him to respond with invective of his own. But he just sat there, listening coolly as Habri continued to rave. A motion from the bottom of the stairs caught Danae’s eye …
She barely had time to clamp her teeth before the troll fired its crossbow, and Habri’s tirade was cut off in mid-word.
Closing her eyes, she let a shiver run up through her body. “Is it over now?” she asked, a sudden weariness washing over her. “Can we please get out of here now?”
“Not quite yet,” a calm voice from behind them answered before Ravagin could speak. “Goldlight: off.”
The golden glow vanished … and Danae turned to see Castle-Lord Simrahi standing by the archway.
Flanked by six armed trolls.
Chapter 41
“IF YOU HAVE AN explanation,” Simrahi said calmly, “I will listen to it now.”
Beside Danae, Ravagin slid forward and dropped off the chair onto the floor in front of the castle-lord. “I’d be happy to give you one,” he said wearily, turning to offer Danae a hand. She came down beside him, keeping hold of his hand. “But I’m not sure what it would prove,” he added, turning back to Simrahi. “As of yesterday you had already made up your mind about us. I doubt the events downstairs have changed that opinion any.”
Simrahi simply cocked an eyebrow. “You may be surprised,” he said, eyes flicking to the scorpion glove on Ravagin’s hand. “Tell me, Ravagin, why did you join my treasonous guard master in his attempt to usurp my rule?”
Ravagin held his hands out, palms upward. “You had virtually condemned us to death, my lord, with no hope offered of reprieve. When one is offered freedom under such circumstances, one has no choice but to take it.”
“Indeed. Then why did you turn against him at the end?”
It seemed to Danae that Ravagin stiffened slightly. “That question should need no answer.”
“Why not? Neither of you are citizens of Numant Protectorate—you owe me neither loyalty nor love. For that matter, from what little I can learn about you it is unclear that you owe loyalty to anyone on Shamsheer.”
“Perhaps one from whom no loyalty is demanded is more able to give it of his own free will,” Ravagin said quietly.
“Perhaps.” Simrahi’s eyes flicked to Danae. “And you, Danae? Where does your loyalty lie?”
“With Ravagin, my lord,” she said automatically. The words suddenly registered in her fatigued brain—“That is, in the way Ravagin has already said,” she corrected, feeling blood rushing to her cheeks.
A touch of a smile flickered across the castle-lord’s face. “I think perhaps you were correct the first time.” His gaze returned to Ravagin and he sobered. “You entered my private tower through sorcerous means, yet did me no harm. You took my bubble unlawfully, yet used it in my defense. You allied yourself with treason, yet in the end used that alliance to expose and destroy it. Is this a fair summary of events?”
A shiver went up Danae’s back as she realized what Simrahi’s words and phrasing meant. They were on trial again; an informal trial, but no less real for that.
And it was clear that Ravagin recognized that, as well. “Only that our intentions remain as I stated them at my hearing yesterday, my lord,” he said, matching the castle-lord’s formal tone. “We wish merely to pass peacefully through Numant Protectorate and continue our journey.”
“To where?”
“I am not permitted to say, my lord.”
For a long moment Simrahi gazed at them in silence. Then, raising one hand, he tapped the nearest troll on its side. “You will escort Ravagin and Danae to the sky-plane landing area,” he ordered it. “They are to be allowed to leave Castle Numanteal. They are not permitted to return. Ever.”
“Acknowledged,” the troll said, taking a step forward.
Ravagin bowed his head briefly. “Thank you, my lord. We will not betray your trust.”
“No thanks needed,” the other said. “And less trust than you may imagine. I need not rely totally on your statements; though you were apparently unaware of it, I have been following the events of this night ever since you entered my sky room and learned to command my bubble.”
Ravagin’s hand, gripping Danae’s, suddenly tightened. “You—? But no trolls came to attack.”
“I sent none. Like the trolls, the bubble is mine to take command of at any time.” Simrahi’s eyes bored into Ravagin’s. “I confess that I felt a certain amount of curiosity as to your purposes, as well as your means of entry. And I was not disappointed. There is a great deal more to you than one would first imagine, Ravagin. To both of you,” he amended, nodding courteously to Danae. “Someday I hope to discover just where it is people like you come from.”
Danae held her breath … but Ravagin merely shrugged slightly. “It is not in my power to satisfy your curiosity, my lord.”
“I thought not.” The castle-lord took a deep breath. “At any rate … day will soon be here. If you wish your departure to be at all secretive, you had best take it quickly.”
Ravagin again bowed his head. “Again we thank you, my lord.” He hesitated a fraction of a second. “And we leave you with a warning: Habri’s treason may not be the last such attempt on your rule. You had best be on your guard.”
Simrahi’s expression turned to flint. “I do not need outlanders to tell me how to defend the Numant Protectorate,” he bit out. “Depart—now—and do not forget you are barred from ever returning to this castle. Do not forget; for the trolls will certainly not.” Turning his back, he strode away from them, all but one of the trolls falling into a loose defensive pattern around him.
“You will go to the sky-plane landing area,” the remaining troll said, taking another step forward.
“No argument,” Ravagin sighed. Letting go of Danae’s hand, he stepped closer to slip his arm around her waist, holding her tightly to him as they headed down the bloodstained stairway.
Fifteen minutes later they were seated on a sky-plane, soaring over the castle wall and heading southwest toward the Tunnel. Ten kilometers as the birdine flew, Danae remembered; perhaps ten or fifteen minutes by sky-plane. We’re going to make it, she thought. This time we’re really going to make it.
Five minutes later, Ravagin brought them down in the middle of the Harrian Hills.
“All
I know,” Danae growled as he sent the carpet away, “is that you’d better have one damn good reason for this.”
“I hope I don’t, actually,” he said, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “I hope like hell I’m being overcautious. But after everything that’s happened, I’d rather err that way than the other. Come on—the Tunnel’s this direction. We should be there in an hour or so.”
“We’d better be,” she said, setting off with a sigh. “In case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t had a lot of sleep in the past few days. I’m about dead on my feet—and we might get that way permanently if Simrahi catches us out here.”
“He only told us not to come back to the castle,” Ravagin reminded her.
“I somehow doubt he’s going to be worried about the strict letter of the law,” she shot back. “And we were getting along so well with him there at the end—why did you have to go out of your way to irritate him, anyway?”
“I didn’t ‘go out of my way,’ ” he growled, “and I don’t think a little irritation really stacks up against life and death, do you?”
“Life and—?” She broke off. “You mean … the spirits?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “It’s one of the things I had in mind,” he said. “What better place for them to take control of than the protectorate containing the Tunnel to Threshold?”
“Oh, God,” she murmured. “You think Simrahi will be able to keep them back? He doesn’t even know what it is he’s up against.”
“He can’t stop them,” he admitted. “Not for long, anyway. It’s going to be up to us, Danae—us and whatever the Twenty Worlds can gather together to throw at the problem.”
“Great.” Something he’d said a minute ago … “Were there any other reasons you gave Simrahi that warning?”
“Yes. One.”
“Care to enlighten me?”
“No. Not now, anyway. Suffice it to say that if what I was trying to do works, we’ll hopefully never know it.” She had to be content with that.