Faith of the Fallen (64 page)

“Just be sure to bring the fee.”

The door slammed shut.

Kamil raced down the steps and seized her arm, his big eyes brimming with tears. “What are we going to do? That’s two more days they will have him. Two more days!”

He was starting to choke on his panic. He hadn’t said it, but she knew what he meant. That was two more days to torture a confession out of him. Then they would bury Richard in the sky.

Nicci took a firm grip on the boy’s arm and walked him away. “Kamil, listen to me. Richard is strong. He will be all right. He’s been through a lot before. He’s strong. You know he’s strong?”

Kamil was nodding as he bit his lower lip and wept, reduced to a child by his fear for his friend.

Nicci stared at the ceiling the entire night. The next day, she went to stand in line for bread. She realized, as she stood with the other women, that she must have the same hollow look as they. She was in a daze. She didn’t know what to do. Everything seemed to be disintegrating.

That night, she slept only a few hours. She was in a state of restless anxiety, counting the minutes until the sun would come up. When it did, she sat at the table, clutching the loaf of bread she would take to Richard, waiting the eternity it took for the day to drag by. The neighbor lady, Mrs. Sha’Rim, brought Nicci a bowl of cabbage soup. She stood over Nicci, smiling sympathetically, while she waited to make sure Nicci ate the soup. Nicci thanked Mrs. Sha’Rim, and said the soup was delicious. She had no idea what the soup tasted like.

In the early afternoon, Nicci decided to go wait at the stronghold until she was allowed in. She didn’t want to be late. Kamil was sitting on the steps, waiting for her. A small crowd of people milled about.

Kamil shot to his feet. “I have the silver mark.”

Nicci wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to pay it, that she would, but she didn’t have a silver mark. She had only a few silver pennies.

“Thank you, Kamil. I will find the money to pay you back.”

“I don’t want it back. It is for Richard. It is what I choose to do for Richard. It is worth it to me.”

Nicci nodded. She knew she would rot before anyone came up with a penny for her, yet she had devoted her entire life to helping others. Her mother told her once that it was wrong to expect thanks, that she owed help to those people because she was able to give it.

As Nicci walked down the steps, people came up and offered their best wishes. They asked her to tell Richard to be strong, and not to give in. They asked her to tell them if there was anything they could do, or if she needed money.

They’d had Richard for days. Nicci didn’t even know if he was still alive. The silent walk to the prison stronghold was terror. She feared to find he had been put to death, or to see him, and know he would die a lingering, suffering agony from his questioning. Nicci knew very well how the Order questioned people.

At the side door, a half-dozen other women along with a few older men stood in the sweltering sun. All the women had sacks of food. None of the people spoke. They were all bent under the weight of the same dread.

Nicci stared at the door as the sun slowly sank. In the gathering dusk, Kamil hung his waterskin on Nicci’s shoulder.

“Richard will probably want something to drink with his bread and chicken.”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The ironbound door squeaked open. Everyone looked up at the guard standing in the door, signaling for everyone to approach. He glanced down at a piece of paper. As the first woman raced up the stairs, he stopped her and asked her name. When she told him, he checked it against his list, then let her pass. The second woman he turned away. She cried out, saying she had paid for the visit. He told her that her husband had confessed to crimes of treason and was allowed no visitors.

She wailed as she fell to the ground. Everyone else watched in horror, fearing the same fate. Another woman gave her name and was sent in. Another went in, then the next was told that her husband had died.

Nicci, in a daze, started up the stairs. Kamil grabbed her arm. He put a coin in her hand.

“Thank you, Kamil.”

He nodded. “Tell Richard I said… Just tell him to come home.”

“Richard Cypher,” she answered the guard, her heart hammering.

He looked at the paper briefly, then waved her in. “That man will take you to him.”

Relief flooded through her. He was still alive.

Inside the dark hall, another soldier waited. He tilted his head in command. “Follow me.” He moved into the darkness, a lamp swinging from each hand. She stayed close behind as he descended two long flights of narrow stairs into the damp dark underground.

In a small room with a hissing torch, People’s Protector Muksin sat on a bench, sweating, as he talked to two men—minor officials, judging by their deferential treatment of the rotund Protector.

The Protector stood after briefly inspecting the paper the guard handed him. “You have the fee?”

“Yes, Protector Muksin.” Nicci handed over the coin.

He glanced at it before pocketing the silver. “Fines for civil violations are steep,” he said cryptically as his dark eyes halted to measure her reaction.

Nicci licked her lips, her hopes suddenly buoyant. She had passed the first test by paying the fee. The greedy bastard was now demanding money for Richard’s life.

Nicci spoke cautiously, fearing to make a mistake. “If I knew the fine, Protector, I believe I could raise the money.”

The Protector peered at her with an intensity that made sweat break out across her brow. “A man needs to prove his repentance. A fine that cuts to the bone is a sure way to show remorse for a civil infraction. Less, and we will know the penance insincere. Day after tomorrow, at this time, those who have confessed to such infractions and have someone who can pay the price of the fine, are brought before me for disposition.”

He had named the price: everything. He had told her what Richard had to do. She wanted to tear out the man’s fat throat.

“Thank you for your kind understanding of my husband’s civil indiscretion. If I could see him, I will see that he hurts to the bone in remorse.”

He smiled a thin sweaty smile. “See that you do, young lady. Men left too long down here with their guilt end up confessing to the most terrible things.”

Nicci swallowed. “I understand, Protector Muksin.”

The torture would not stop until the man had the price.

The guard seized her arm abruptly and yanked her off down a pitch-black corridor, holding his two lanterns in his other hand. They went down another flight of stairs, down to the very bottom of the stronghold. The narrow passageway burrowed its crooked way through the stone of the foundation, past rooms purpose-built to hold criminals. Being not far from the river, water seeped into the place, leaving it forever slimy, wet, and reeking of rot. She saw things skitter away into the blackness.

The sound of their feet splashing through ankle-deep water echoed back from the distance. Decomposing carcasses of huge rats bobbed on the waves caused by their passing footsteps. The place reminded Nicci of her childhood nightmares of the underworld, a fate her mother had promised awaited all those who failed in their duty to their fellow man.

The short doors to the sides each had a small opening about the size of a hand—so that the guards could look in, she supposed. There was no light at all but what the guards brought, so there was nothing for those inside to look out at. In several of those doors, fingers gripped the edge of the opening. As the lamplight passed, Nicci saw wide eyes peering out from the black holes. From many of the openings came weeping of anguish, or agony.

The guard stopped. “Here it is.”

Her heart beating wildly, Nicci waited. Instead of opening the door, the guard turned to her and grabbed her breasts. She stood motionless, fearing to move. He fondled her, as if he were testing melons in the market. She was too afraid to say anything, lest he not let her see Richard. He pressed closer to her and pushed his meaty hand down inside the top of her dress, fingering her nipples.

Nicci knew that men like this were necessary if the Order was to bring their teachings to all. You had to accept that the nature of mankind was perverted. There had to be sacrifices. Brutes were necessary to enforce morality on the masses. She stifled a yelp as he pinched her tender flesh.

The guard chuckled, pleased with his grope, and turned to the door. After some difficulty with the rusty lock, he finally got the key to turn. He grasped the door through the opening and gave a mighty tug. The door slowly grated open just enough to get by. The guard hung a lantern just inside on the wall.

“After I’ve seen to some other matters, I’ll be back and your visit will be over.” He chortled again. “Don’t waste any time getting your skirts up for him—if he’s in any condition for it.”

He shoved her in the room. “Here you go, Cypher. I got her nice and randy for you.” The door shut with a clang that echoed up and down the crooked passageway. Nicci heard the key turn and the guard’s sloshing footsteps as he departed.

The square room was so tiny she could have stretched her arms and touched the walls to each side at the same time. The ceiling brushed the top of her head. She was overwhelmed by the terrifying closeness of it. She wanted out.

She feared the body crumpled at her feet was dead.

“Richard?”

She heard a little groan. His arms were behind his back, locked in some kind of wooden binders. She feared he might drown.

Tears stung her eyes. She sank to her knees. The slimy water that had sloshed into her boots now soaked up through her dress.

“Richard?”

She pulled at his shoulder to turn him over. He cried out and shrank away from her hand.

When she saw him, she covered her mouth with both hands to stifle her scream. She felt the tears flooding down her face as she gasped to get her breath.

“Oh, Richard.”

Nicci stood and tore off a strip of her shift from under her dress. Kneeling once more, she used the cloth to gently wipe the blood from his face.

“Richard, can you hear me? It’s Nicci.”

He nodded. “Nicci.”

One eye was swollen shut. His hair was matted with mud and slime from the water he lay in. His clothes were torn open. In the harsh light from the small lamp, she could see puffy red wounds crisscrossing his flesh.

He saw her staring at his wounds. “I’m afraid you’ll never be able to patch this shirt.”

She offered a feeble smile at his grim humor. Her fingers trembled as she wiped his face. She didn’t know why she would react this way. She had seen worse than this.

Richard pulled his head back away from her ministrations.

“Am I hurting you?”

“Yes.”

“Sorry. I have some water.”

He nodded eagerly. Nicci poured water into his mouth from the waterskin. He drank greedily.

While he caught his breath, she said, “Kamil came up with the money for the fee to get me in to see you.”

Richard only smiled.

“Kamil wants you out of here.”

“I want me out of here.” He didn’t sound like himself. His voice was hoarse and almost gone.

“Richard, the Protector—”

“Who?”

“The official in charge of this, this prison. He told me that there is a way to get you out. He said you must plead guilty to a civil infraction, and pay a fine.”

Richard was nodding. “I figured as much. He asked if I had money. I told him I did.”

“You do? You’ve saved money?”

He nodded. “I have money.”

Nicci’s fingers desperately gathered his collar into her fist. “Richard, I can’t pay the fine to get you out for two more days. Can you hold on? Please, can you hold on until then?”

He smiled in the dim lamplight. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Nicci remembered then, and pulled the bread out of the sack. “I brought food. Bread, and some roasted chicken.”

“Chicken. Bread won’t sustain me long. They don’t feed me.”

She tore at the chicken with her fingers. She held a piece up to his mouth for him. She couldn’t stand to see Richard helpless. It angered her. It made her sick.

“Eat, Richard,” she urged when his head sank forward. He shook his head, as if to banish sleep. “Here, have some more.”

She watched him chew. “Can you sleep in this water?”

“They don’t let you sleep. They—”

She pushed a long chunk of chicken in his mouth. She knew too many of the details of the Order’s methods. She didn’t want to know which technique they had chosen for him.

“I’ll get you out, Richard. Don’t give up. I’ll get you out.”

He shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter.

“Why? Covetous of your prisoner? Jealous to see others abuse me in your place? Fear they might destroy me before you can?”

“Richard, that’s not—”

“I am just a man. Only the greater good matters. That I’m innocent is immaterial, because no one man’s life has value. If I must suffer and die this way to help drive others to the ways of your Creator and your Order, who are you to deny them that virtuous end? What do your wishes matter? How can you put your life, or mine, above the good of others?”