The Invisible Chains - Part 2: Bonds of Fear (70 page)

Doos?” she asked. “Very well, let’s see if I can remedy some of your

objections.”

She turned to the boys.

“Strip,” she ordered.

“What?” Gerri said, although he had understood all too well.

“Strip,” Emelasuntha repeated.

“I will not,” Gerri said. “You can’t make me.”

“Can’t I? Out of your clothes. And quick. Or do you need help?”

She made a sign to two Tribesmen who stood in the back.

“Strip them,” she ordered.

Warri let himself be handled easily, but Gerri tried initially to put

up a fight. He soon understood that the result would be only a small

delay at the cost of much pain.

Warri didn’t seem too bothered by his nakedness. Gerri, on the

other hand, blushed heavily and covered himself with his hands.

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“And, master Doos,” the queen said, “do they still seem special to

you?”

The trader hesitated and tried to weigh the risk against the

potential profit.

“Cut of their hair,” Emelasuntha ordered calmly. “I want only

stubbles to remain.”

The Tribesmen went to work on the boys with their daggers.

Neither of them was a barber and cutting hair with a dagger was a

haphazard business at best. The result was uneven and ragged.

Warri didn’t understand, but Gerri was crying. This sort of

treatment was definitely not what he was used to. Young nobles

weren’t manhandled like this. The only conclusion he could come to

was that, somehow, he had lost his nobility. What his new status was

he didn’t know, but it made him terrified.

“Oh, my lady,” Xwartan Doos yammered, “it will take months

before they are presentable again.”

“Of course not, master Doos. A month at most and a little visit

to a good barber. Meanwhile, don’t they look exactly like peasant’s

sons?”

She looked the boys over.

“They’re too clean,” she said. “Take them to that empty stall and

roll them around in the muck a bit. See that their faces are smeared

as well.”

When the men returned with the boys it looked as if they hadn’t

washed in several weeks.

“I will have to feed them at least two months longer, my lady. In

this condition, I can only give you three rioghal for them.”

“Six,” the queen said.

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“Four,” was the master trader’s counteroffer.

“Five.”

“Four.”

“Five and you get to live,” the queen said impatiently.

Doos gulped.

“I will need the cart. I can’t put them—”

“And we’re back at six rioghals.” Emelasuntha smiled.

“A rioghal for that cart?” Doos exclaimed.

“And your life, master Doos, don’t forget your precious life. Don’t

whine, man, this is a brilliant deal. You stand to make a large profit.”

“You drive a hard bargain, lady.”

Somewhat reluctantly the master trader retrieved six gold pieces

out of the leather pouch at his belt and counted them out in Sobrathi’s

open hand. Then he nodded curtly at his assistant, who produced

shackles out of his black bag.

When he fitted them around Gerri’s ankles, the boy let go of all

pretense and cried bitterly. Standing there naked, filthy, with ragged

hair, he knew his old life as an honored and pampered scion of a

noble House belonged definitely to the past.

“A few words of advice, master Doos” Emelasuntha said. “The

boys are a bit simple and they suffer from delusions. Give them new

names. The youngest is still malleable enough to get used to a new

identity and forget his made up old one. Just be firm and consequent

with him, so that he knows he should never tell his lies about his so

called high birth again. The older one might pose a problem. If need

be, you’ll just have to cut his tongue out. I’m sure there is a market

for mute companions.”

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When he had fastened the shackles around Warri’s ankles as

well, Doos’s assistant grabbed both boys by the arm and dragged

them to the back of the cart.

“Well, I suppose you were merciful,” Sobrathi sighed when they

were gone. “At least you didn’t kill them.”

“Their fate is in the hand of the Goddess. At least, this way, they

have a chance at some kind of life,” the queen answered.

“Yes, but what kind of life?”

“What would you have me do, Sobrathi? Remember they have

fathers, the sons of the Bloody Baron, no less. Would you rather have

they put their energy in finding out what happened to their sire?

And maybe come after us? Or after Anaxantis? Isn’t it better that

they go looking for their sons? You gave me an idea, by the way. In

a roundabout way we will let them know that the boys are in the

hands of a slaver.”

“That will be the end of Master Doos,” Sobrathi said.

“Oh, we will not let them know immediately.”

She pointed at the clothes of the boys, still laying on the ground.

“In a few weeks we will have a few items delivered to them,

together with an anonymous note that they were found near the

eastern border, on the side of a road used by traders. You’ve got

to love the vanity of the nobility to embroider their escutcheon on

nearly every major piece of clothing. It will be just enough to send

them on a wild goose chase, but too little to find out easily what

exactly happened to them.”

“Still, they might find them,” Sobrathi said, trying to disguise the

hope in her voice.

Emelasuntha smiled.

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“Yes, my dear, with any luck they might.”

“Isn’t that dangerous? For us, I mean?”

“What are they going to tell their fathers? They don’t know our

names, nor where they have been, nor who took them. They know

nothing tangible.”

“And now?”

“Now? We let the men rest for a day. We can use some sleep

ourselves as well. There are letters to be written and arrangements

to be made for the retrieval of the bodies of the men we lost. Then

we go back to the Ormidon Chapter House. There’s a traitor in the

immediate circle of my son, and come hell or high water, I will find

out who it is. We’re not done yet.”

Lethoras had ridden almost for two days straight in western

direction, only occasionally resting when he was about to fall from

his horse from sheer exhaustion. The body of the baron lay behind

him, rolled in a piece of tent canvas, the bundle tied to his saddle. The

weather had been mild and the corpse was beginning to decompose.

Added to the fact that Damydas had soiled himself, the stench was

almost unbearable.

Finally he estimated he was far enough from Elmshill. It had been

hours since he had passed, from a great distance, the last village

when he saw a forest. It was slow going but he managed to ride deep

into it until he came to a ravine. He dismounted and for a while he

stood motionless, listening. A strange mood came over him, as if he

was the last man in the world, all alone in the wilderness. Suddenly

he wanted the job to be over.

He pulled the corpse from his horse and let it fall to the ground.

Tugging at one side of the canvas he unwrapped Damydas’s naked

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557

body. A horribly foul, sickening smell made him recoil, and he only

kept upright by leaning against a nearby tree. He pulled himself

together, and breathing through his mouth, he drew his sword and

started hacking off the right arm. He was grateful he had already

stripped the corpse and removed the rings, a bracelet and the dagger,

so he didn’t have to touch the malodorous thing that had once been

a human being.

When the arm was cut loose, he gingerly kicked it with the tip of

his boot over the edge of the ravine. When all the limbs were thus

disposed of he cut open the belly of the rump, and gagging, let it

tumble down as well.

As he had expected carrion birds flew over the ravine within a

quarter of an hour. He thought he saw a lone wolf, probably a sick or

old animal, chased from the pack. It hadn’t been a harsh winter, but

even so food must have been scarce, and it was not all that unusual

for wolves to turn to carrion in times of need. Lethoras was satisfied:

within a day at most only bones would remain of the baron.

He rode for hours until he came at a little stream. There he made

a fire and burned Damydas’s clothes and the reeking piece of canvas.

While the fire was still raging, he stripped completely and washed

thoroughly in the ice-cold water. He threw the jewelry in the middle

of the river.

After having buried the remains of the fire, he sought his way out

of the forest. At the nearest town he booked a room in a hostelry, and

after a hastily wolfed down dinner slept for a solid eleven hours

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He held his breath and listened nervously. No, he hadn’t been

wrong. He heard footsteps on the stairs. Was he back? Or was it

somebody else? Somebody coming to get him? He hid behind the big

chair, crouching down, anxiously watching the door.

When it finally opened and Anaxantis entered the room, he

couldn’t stop himself. Running to him, he fell in his arms, pressing

his naked body against him, clasping his arms around him, burying

his face in the long, golden hair. He inhaled deeply. The strange mix-

ture of smells of sweat, horses and dust almost intoxicated him.

“Has he grown? We’re almost of a height now. Maybe it’s just the

heavy boots.”

He felt calloused hands on his buttocks, but he didn’t mind. He

held his brother even tighter, nuzzling his face in his neck.

“His hands used to be so soft.”

“You left me alone for so long,” he said, trying not to cry. “I didn’t

know what was happening to you. I missed you so much. It was so

lonely without you here.”

He shivered when he felt a rough hand caressing his back, and he

clasped on to his lord even more firmly.

“Easy, easy, boy, you’re suffocating me.” Anaxantis laughed. “I

missed you too, you know. Calm down. I’m happy to see you as well.”

But he couldn’t let go, afraid as he was that his lord might go

away again.

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559

“Down, boy, down. Let me take off my mantle and sword, and get

out of this tunic. It’s warm here” His brother smiled.

He let go and helped him eagerly divest himself of his outer gar-

ments.

“Let me look at you,” Anaxantis said, taking him by the shoul-

ders and holding him at arms length. “Oh, I see you’re really glad I’m

back,” he added, noticing the effect the affectionate hugging and rub-

bing had produced on his brother’s member.

He colored red, and bowed his head, trying to hide his shame. By

now he was used to not wearing clothes, but being gazed at like this,

suddenly made him embarrassingly aware of his nakedness. It also

reminded him acutely of his status. He felt himself be drawn nearer,

and again one hand possessively came to rest on his naked buttocks,

caressing them. There had been a time he would have felt that ges-

ture as humiliating. He didn’t care anymore. Not that much anyway.

It felt good to be touched again. Even in this manner.

“I see you’ve kept the place tidy,” his lord said, satisfied. “Very

tidy, in fact.”

Anaxantis walked around the big room, looking about him. He

followed him, keeping a few steps behind, hoping he hadn’t over-

looked anything or forgotten to clean something.

“I haven’t slept in your bed, my lord, honestly, I haven’t,” he said

when he saw his brother looking at it.

“I know, Tarno, I know,” Anaxantis, who had seen the unobtru-

sive, almost invisible, single blond hair sticking out from under the

covers, said. “You’ve been good.”

“Come, my lord,” he smiled, relieved, grabbing his hand, “let me

wash your feet. You must be tired. It will relax you, and the water is

exactly as you like it. I’ll rub them with scented oil afterwards.”