Triplet (40 page)

“Positive. Remember?—you had me block the drain so that the water would go out into the hallway? And then when the sky-plane got us into the manor house, why didn't the spirits land it instead of just leaving the thing like it did? We were pretty invulnerable up there, with the edge barrier operating—wouldn't it have been to the spirit's advantage to get us killed or at least wounded in a kitchen riot instead of giving us the chance to surrender peacefully?”

“You're right,” Ravagin admitted. “Letting us try and reason with the castle-lord was probably a mistake on its part.” He bit gently at his lip. “Very interesting indeed. You see where this leads us, don't you?”

“Not really.”

“Well, think about it a second. What kind of spirit could behave as if it's taking turns being brilliant and stupid? Or, I should say, what
group
of spirits?”

She twisted suddenly to look up at him. “A demon!” she gasped. “A demon and his parasite spirits.”

“That's it,” he nodded. “
And
it furthermore means that we were right about the demon's friend here being ignorant of what he's really up to. If the demon himself had been attacking us, we probably would have been stopped in short order. But it's clear that he's having to stick close to home—wherever that is—and just sending his parasites out against us.” Ravagin felt a surge of excitement; for the first time in hours, it seemed, his brain was running at top speed again. The logical puzzle was unraveling right before his eyes. … “So the parasites come against us, can't handle the unexpected things we throw at them, and fall on their ectoplasmic faces. They head back—sure, it all makes sense. They head back and report and the demon comes up with a new plan, which they launch in a few hours or whenever they can get to us. If we analyze the time periods involved, in fact, we might even be able to isolate their home base area.”

“Great,” Danae said without noticeable enthusiasm. “So what does that mean for getting us out of here?”

Ravagin's growing excitement faded away. “Yeah,” he said heavily. “You're right. How do we convince Simrahi that there are forces threatening all of Shamsheer, and further convince him that letting us go is the way to fight the attack?”

“He believes in magic, doesn't he? I mean, he
has
to believe in it, living on Shamsheer. And it sounds like he believes in black sorcery, too—”

“Convincing him that there's a threat wasn't the part I was worried about,” Ravagin interrupted her gently. “He already believes that … and thinks we're part of it.”

She sighed. “So it's up to us. Totally.”

Ravagin eyed the bare walls around them. “I wish we were even that well off. Unfortunately, I don't see any way we can get ourselves out of this one. I'm afraid it's all up to your father now.”

She tensed in his arms. “You mean the threat we made to Melentha? That if I disappeared, Daddy Dear would come looking for me?”

Something about the way she said that sent a quiet shiver up his back. “Yes,” he said cautiously. “Why?—isn't it true?”

She took a deep breath. “Not really. In fact … I think he's probably already resigned himself to never seeing me again.”

Ravagin felt his neck muscles tighten. “Are you suggesting,” he said slowly, “that he poured money all over various Triplet officials …
expecting
you to die here?”

“No, of course not. I don't think he realized until the last minute what I was really up to.”

“Which was …?”

She sighed. “Ravagin, I've been trying to run away from Daddy Dear for a long time. I've hated his money, hated the way everyone automatically fawned over me for no reason except the accident of history that I was his daughter. Hated the way they all treated me as if I was a cute little girl without any brains. Here—Triplet—was the only place I could find where his influence didn't penetrate. The only place where I could prove myself on my own, without Hart or someone like him showing up to grease my path. I started this trip eighty percent certain that I would run away from you at some point, to settle down and possibly spend the rest of my life here.”

She stopped, and for a long minute there was silence. In his arms he could feel her body trembling, but he couldn't tell whether she was actually crying or just struggling hard to hold back the tears. Not that it mattered. “Well,” he said at last, “it looks like you've done it. Proven yourself, I mean.”

She sniffed. “Oh, sure. It takes a real capable adult to get both herself and a friend into a death cell.”

“You're missing my point,” he shook his head. “You know, Danae, you had the kind of life in front of you that most of the people I've known would have jumped at with all four feet. You could have allowed yourself to become a pampered parasite—let yourself be that little girl forever. But you didn't. You came to Triplet instead.”

She sniffed again, reaching up with one hand to rub at her eyes, and when the hand came away he saw the moisture there. She had indeed been crying. “Nice to at least find it out before I die, isn't it.”

He bit at his lip. “Danae …”

“No, please don't talk. What I really need … Ravagin, would you hold me?”

“I am holding you.”

“No, I mean …” She took a ragged breath. “Hold me. Closer.”

It took several heartbeats for him to finally realize what she meant … and several heartbeats after that to get his tongue unstuck. “Are you sure?” he asked awkwardly. “I mean … I'm hardly the sort of man … in, you know, normal circumstances, you wouldn't choose—”

She barked a laugh that was more than half sob. “You might be surprised. And since when are these normal circumstances, anyway? Unless you … don't want to, I mean …”

There was only one answer for that. Reaching over with his free hand, he turned her face gently upwards and kissed her. She twisted her body over toward him, arms snaking around his neck to press herself against him as she returned the kiss almost desperately. He let his hand drop lower, to her scorched, waterstained bodice …

It was only afterward, as she lay sleeping in his arms and he was dozing off himself, that the possibility they'd been observed occurred to him. An odd lapse, for him; even odder the fact that such a thought didn't even dent the sense of contentment filling him. It had been a long time since he'd felt this way …

Looking up at the ceiling, he sent it a half smile.
The hell with you,
he thought toward the hidden watchers. Closing his eyes, he fell asleep.

T
HE CLICK OF AN
opening lock jerked Ravagin awake, and he opened his eyes just as a tall, hard-looking man in a tight half-cloak stepped across the threshold into the cell. His eyes met Ravagin's, then flicked around the room, before he half turned to the shadowy figures waiting behind him in the corridor. “I will speak with them alone,” he said in a voice Ravagin could tell was accustomed to giving orders. “No one is to listen in—is that clear?”

There was a muttered acknowledgment, and the man turned back and took a step into the cell. Behind him the door swung shut.

For a moment he simply looked at them. Propped up on one elbow, Ravagin looked back, matching the other's silence and—he hoped—his impassive expression. On her side in front of him, her back pressed against his chest, Danae was also motionless and silent, but Ravagin could feel the nervous twitches that told him she was also awake. Surreptitiously, he squeezed her hip, hoping she would take the gesture as one of reassurance. Though offhand, he couldn't see any reason for either of them to be reassured.

“Well,” the man said at last, coming another step toward the cot. “You two look very cozy. I trust you've found a way to pass the time?”

Danae stiffened; Ravagin squeezed her hip again. “Indeed,” he said, keeping his voice cool. “You don't need us to tell you that, of course.”

The other smiled faintly. “Very good, Ravagin—you recognize me, then.”

“You were dressed in a guard officer's tunic earlier,” Ravagin told him. “Standing beside Castle-Lord Simrahi at that farce of a hearing. What else could you be but a high-ranking member of the household guard?”

The other's expression didn't change. “You are indeed an observant man. Excellent. I am Habri; master of the Castle Numanteal guard. Does that name mean anything to you?”

“Not really. Should it?”

A flash of something—disappointment?—seemed to register briefly on Habri's face. But he recovered quickly. “No matter. So. Tell me, what do you think Castle-Lord Simrahi is likely to do with you? You being black sorcerers and all, that is?”

“We're not black sorcerers,” Danae said tiredly. “Isn't there any way we can convince you people of that?”

Habri smiled slyly. “After all that talk of demons between you? No, my good traveler Danae, I think your reputation is firmly established. Which brings me to the really important question: Why are you here?”

Ravagin opened his mouth … and closed it again as an icy shiver went up his back. A random, almost forgotten fact had clicked … “At the hearing,” he said slowly, “you went out of your way to downplay the suggestion that we were messengers to plotters. Which means … there really
is
something going on here. Isn't there?”

“There are rumors—nothing more,” Habri shrugged. But the intensity of his expression belied the casualness of the words.

Danae twisted her head to frown up at him. “But you said a revolt would be suicide.”

“Yes, I did,” Ravagin nodded, keeping his eyes on Habri. There was something else there … “And since Guard Master Habri here was eavesdropping on us he doesn't need me to repeat the reasons
why
it's suicide. Not to mention any extra reasons he knows that we don't. So why all the fuss?”

“You answer my question first,” Habri said coldly. “Why are you here?”

“We're passing through; nothing more,” Ravagin sighed. “We were being chased by agents of another power—the demons your people heard us speak of—and thought that a good way to put them off our trail would be to detour through the nearest Dark Tower. So we did. The sky-plane we hitched a ride on came here—” he shrugged—“and its little sortie into the dining room you already know about.”

“So you
do
admit, then, that you have certain unknown powers over magic? At least to the ability to reach into Dark Towers?”

Ravagin stared at him … and the last piece fell into place. “You're one of them, aren't you. One of those plotting to overthrow the castle-lord.”

Habri's face had turned to stone. “You are indeed perceptive, Ravagin. Perhaps too much so.”

Danae's hand gripped Ravagin's arm. “You wouldn't dare kill us,” she stated firmly. Her tone startled Ravagin: it was as good an imitation of forceful contempt as he'd ever heard. “You wouldn't be here at all,” she continued, “unless you wanted something from us, and wanted it badly. What?”

Habri took a step toward them, his eyes flashing fire at her as his right hand dipped beneath his cloak to grip a knife hilt there. “I need take no insolence from either of you,
woman,
” he bit out. “Not from your protector, and certainly not from you.”

“I wouldn't be quite so hasty if I were you,” Ravagin spoke up, matching his own tone to Danae's cue. “Remember that you don't yet know which of us has whatever it is you need.”

The other froze in place, his eyes darting back and forth between Danae and Ravagin. His lips parted once, closed; then, clenching his jaw, he dropped his hand from his weapon and moved back a pace. He took a deep breath, and inclined his head fractionally. “Your point,” he acknowledged with passable aplomb. “My mistake, and my apologies. It is clear that neither of you is what you seem.”

“Apology accepted,” Danae said coolly. “For now, at any rate. So. Let us hear your request.”

Habri's eyes settled on her. “I want you to get me into the castle-lord's chambers, past the trolls guarding the door,” he said bluntly. “Tonight.”

The cell's tiny window had been showing the blackness of full night for several hours by the time Habri returned for them. “You have my weapons?” Ravagin whispered as the other eased open the door.

“Outside,” Habri hissed back, gesturing impatiently as he stood in the doorway. “Quickly—the guards have been diverted, but they will be back soon.”

Which meant Habri's rebellion wasn't nearly as widespread as he'd tried to imply that afternoon. For a second Ravagin toyed with the idea of flattening the traitor as he left the cell, decided against it. A good thing too; as he stepped past Habri and on into the corridor, he saw the other had brought three heavily armed men with him.

The guards fell into step behind him and Danae as Habri took the lead. Ravagin could feel the tension in Danae's hand as they walked, and he glanced over once to give her a reassuring smile. Whatever the deficiencies of Habri's organization, it was surely good enough to at least spring a couple of prisoners from the castle-lord's cells.

And it was. A minute later they emerged through a thick door into a hallway of the main manor house. A few turns later they reached what appeared to be the kitchen area; another heavy door took them into one of the four entrance hallways that led to the outside from the relatively narrow base of the manor house. A minute after that, they were out in the night air.

“Don't relax yet,” Ravagin murmured as Danae gave a quiet sigh of relief. “We're still inside the castle walls, you know, and there are a lot of guards and trolls between us and the rest of Shamsheer.”

“So let's use that fact,” she whispered back. “Call the trolls down on us, expose Habri as a traitor—”