It was hard to do. He fought to keep his eyes open, but already he could feel the slide into sleep that brought the terrible falling sensation. Maybe he should just go ahead and embrace the feeling-it couldn’t be very long before he slipped into unconsciousness. But there was something at the end of the fall that he could feel waiting for him, so he resisted it.
It may have been as much as an hour before he heard footsteps in the corridor again. He sat upright and stilled his breathing, listening to try to guess how many approached. His eyes had adjusted slightly to the darkness, but he still couldn’t see the inside of the cell. He could make out the cutaway sections of the iron door, a dull, dark grey against pure black.
It was the yfelgopes again. He could hear the slaps of their thin leather shoes. He tried to prepare himself, but he didn’t anticipate the apologetic whisper that issued from outside his door.
“Hsst! You in there.”
The whisper was an enquiry, not a shout or an order.
“Hello?” he ventured, his mouth still swollen but thankfully numb.
“You are Daniel, the lifiende. Daniel the quest-finisher.”
“Yessh,” he answered. “An’ you?”
“Incorrect,” the voice responded. “Incorrect order. Please listen and answer. We will ask four questions and then answer four of yours. What was your intent in coming here?”
Daniel paused for a moment. Was this another trick?
“Can. . trust. . you?”
“Incorrect! You must answer-”
“It is a valid query,” another voice piped up. “All answers he may provide are reliant and conditional on the answer to his.”
“Valid! A turnaround, then! You may ask three questions, and then we ask.”
Daniel swallowed in agony. “Who. . are. . you?”
“Disloyals,” the voice said with a sort of angry pride. “Rebels, mutineers, dissidents. We started following Gad because it made sense, or so we thought. However, reason cannot now condone his actions. We have begun. . to doubt.”
“What. . mean. . doubt?” Daniel asked.
“Incongruences. Incongruences in spoken rhetoric, and inconsistencies in action. At first niggling irregularities, but on investigation turn out to be vast disconnects-rifts in reason. Bad logic. Undeniable, unconscionable. For those of us who believe, there is only one option: resist.”
Daniel raised an eyebrow. This was an interesting development. “Why. . still. . here?” he asked, mentally registering his third question.
“Where else to go? We do not know much of the caves of the Ni?ergearders, and would we be able to explain ourselves to those who found us? Would we be given the opportunity? Best to wait until better circumstances. These circumstances.”
“How. . many. . of you. . are there?”
“That was your last question.”
“One more.”
“No! Us first. Who else is here with you?”
Daniel thought and framed his reply, sucking in saliva. “Just me. But more. . on way.”
“Reinforcements? An army?”
Daniel thought. “Yes.”
“Is it Godmund?”
“No.”
“That is three,” said a third voice from the door. “He shall have more, and then we. One each, until the finish.”
“How. . many. . of you. . are there?”
“Thirty-seven,” the voice answered promptly. “That we are in contact with-that we know of. There may be others whose system of logic has led them to doubt. It is often hard for us to find who those may be. Now we ask: what were your intentions in coming here?”
Daniel decided to chance it. “Liber. . ation. We wish to. . defeat Gad. . once and. . for all.”
There was a short muttering from the other side of the door. “Do you wish for another question?” he was asked.
Daniel thought. Who was it who could help him in this situation? “Where’s. . Godmund?”
“We do not know. His presence is completely unknown. Those who have gone to seek him have not returned.”
“What. . happens now?”
“A question out of order!” shrilled one voice.
“But a vital question-most vital.”
“A good question indeed. We break you out-abscond. We search for the survivors of Ni?ergeard and wage righteous war on our erstwhile comrades.” There were grunts of agreement from those with the speaker.
“Good. Let’sh. . do it.”
VI
“We must be methodical, Freya,” Vivienne told her, nodding her head in earnestness. They stood in the Langtorr greeting hall. “Floor by floor, room by room, and always together.” Freya had thought this went without saying, but she nodded anyway.
The dining hall and the adjacent kitchen had revealed nothing of interest. The long hall was just as Freya remembered it, with the metal tables and benches perfectly aligned-bare and waiting to be used. The kitchen was just as barren. It was a sort of tragedy, even when she’d first visited it. She’d never seen any Ni?ergearder eating anything-that was something that they sacrificed along with their mortality, their right to die and their need to eat.
And yet, here was a kitchen, fully equipped, but not manned by any cook or chef.
There was a pantry with dry, stone walls and barrels that contained salt and some sort of dry, thick-sliced meat that was not rancid, as far as either of them could tell. Freya had remembered it from her first trip, and after Vivienne had seen Freya gnaw off a piece, she tried some as well. There was also some dry, dark, cracker-like bread in a wooden box on a shelf. They both selected some meat and bread and stuck them in their backpacks.
Back in the kitchen, they went to an iron pump that was set into a wall. They gave the handle a few turns and were surprised to see it cough up clear, cold water that jetted out and soaked Vivienne’s leg. They took turns pumping and cupping the icy water to their faces to sip it. The water was slightly sweet beneath a metallic taste, but it was very refreshing. When they had drunk their fill, they emptied their warm water canteens and refilled them.
They continued up the tower. The next floor was made up of several curved reception rooms. Freya had not been in these before. There were large fireplaces that would have held Ealdstan’s enchanted fire, but they were cold and dark. It was then that Freya realised she hadn’t seen any of the pale, slightly lifeless flames anywhere in the tower’s hearths. The lamps still burned, but not the fires, and this allowed a frigid, penetrative damp to invade the tower.
On the next floor were the guest rooms, nine of them, which included the rooms that she and Daniel had stayed in, long untouched. She even recognised the way she had folded the top bedspread at the foot of her mattress. Eight years of mold and dank dominated the room. They passed on to the next floor. More rooms. Just as well furnished but of more utilitarian designs. Servants’ quarters? There had to be twelve rooms on this level. Freya had only ever seen Frithfroth and Cnafa and Cnapa around the Langtorr. Were there more, once, or had the total vision for the tower remained yet unrealised?
The fifth floor up contained the map room as well as other adjoining rooms, connecting through wide arches. Stone tables and metal chairs. Meeting rooms? Again, for whom and for what reason?
The double-helix stairway ended here-the corkscrewed design had been narrowing and coming close together and actually met to finish in a round hole. The next level was not immediately above the fifth. In fact, neither Freya nor Vivienne properly thought of it as a level since it was just a single room with two smaller ones attached. There was an iron bed, an iron washstand, a cold fireplace, and a metal stool, appearing as if they’d never been used.
Following a single, rough stairway, they arrived at Ealdstan’s rooms, which brought them to a stop. They had not taken a break in their long explorations, but before they did so, they decided to right the large stone table that Freya, Daniel, Modwyn, and the knights had sat at eight years ago. Then they sat and started going through the scattered documents.