Presently Master Peter mercifully ordered the Junior Warden to examine both of us as to our progress in memorizing ritual. Zeb and I sullenly did as we were told and were forced with relentless kindness to concentrate on the intricate rhetoric. Somehow nearly two hours passed.
At last came three raps at the door and the Tyler admitted Magdalene. I jumped out of my chair and rushed to her. “Well?” I demanded. “Well?”
“Peace, John,” she answered wearily. “I’ve seen her.”
“How is she? Is she all right?”
“Better than we have any right to expect. Her mind is still intact and she hasn’t betrayed us, apparently. As for the rest, she may keep a scar or two-but she’s young and healthy; she’ll recover.”
I started to demand more facts but the Master cut me off. Then they’ve already put her to the Question. In that case, how did you get in to see her?”
“Oh, that!” Magdalene shrugged it off as something hardly worth mentioning. “The inquisitor prosecuting her case proved to be an old acquaintance of mine; we arranged an exchange of favors.”
Zeb started to interrupt; the Master snapped, “Quiet!” then added sharply, “The Grand Inquisitor isn’t handling it himself? In that case I take it they don’t suspect that it could be a Cabal matter?”
Maggie frowned. “I don’t know. Apparently Judith fainted rather early in the proceedings; they may not have had time to dig into that possibility. In any case I begged a respite for her until tomorrow. The excuse is to let her recover strength for more questioning, of course. They will start in on her again early tomorrow morning.”
Van Eyck pounded a fist into a palm. “They must not start again-we can’t risk it! Senior Warden, attend me! The rest of you get out! Except you, Maggie.”
I left with something unsaid. I had wanted to tell Maggie that she could have my hide for a door mat any time she lifted her finger.
Dinner that night was a trial. After the chaplain droned through his blessing I tried to eat and join in the chatter but there seemed to be a hard ring in my throat that kept me from swallowing. Seated next to me was Grace-of-God Bearpaw, half Scottish, half Cherokee. Grace was a classmate but no friend of mine; we hardly ever talked and tonight he was as taciturn as ever.
During the meal he rested his boot on mine; I impatiently moved my foot away. But shortly his foot was touching mine again and he started to tap against my boot:—hold still, you idiot—” he spelled out—“You have been chosen—it will be on your watch tonight—details later—eat and start talking-take a strip of adhesive tape on watch with you-six inches by a foot-repeat message back.”
I managed somehow to tap out my confirmation while continuing to pretend to eat.
CHAPTER 4
We relieved the watch at midnight. As soon as the watch section had marched away from our post I told Zeb what Grace had passed on to me at chow and asked him if he had the rest of my instructions. He had not. I wanted to talk but he cut me short; he seemed even more edgy than I was.
So I walked my post and tried to look alert. We were posted that night at the north end of the west rampart; our tour covered one of the Palace entrances. About an hour had passed when I heard a hiss from the dark doorway. I approached cautiously and made out a female form. She was too short to be Magdalene and I never knew who she was, for she shoved a piece of paper in my hand and faded back into the dark corridor.
I rejoined Zeb. “What shall I do? Read it with my flash? That seems risky.”
“Open it up.”
I did and found that it was covered with fine script that glowed in the darkness. I could read it but it was too dim to be picked up by any electronic eye. I read it:
At the middle of the watch exactly on the bell you will enter the Palace by the door where you received this. Forty paces inside, take the stair on your left; climb two flights. Proceed north fifty paces. The lighted doorway on your right leads to the Virgins” quarters, there will be a guard at this door. He will not resist you but you must use a paralysis bomb on him to give him an alibi. The cell you seek is at the far end of the central east west corridor of the quarters. There will be a light over the door and a Virgin on guard. She is not one of us. You must disable her completely but you are forbidden to injure or kill her. Use the adhesive tape as gag and blindfold and tie her up with her clothes. Take her keys, enter the cell, and remove Sister Judith. She will probably be unconscious. Bring her to your post and hind her over to the warden of your watch.
You must make all haste from the time you paralyze the guard, as an eye may see you when you pass the lighted doorway and the alarm may sound at once.
Do not swallow this note; the ink is poisonous. Drop it in the incinerator chute at the head of the stairs.
Go with God.
Zeb read it over my shoulder. “All you need,” he said grimly, “is the ability to pass miracles at will. Scared?”
“Yes.”
“Want me to go along?”
“No. I guess we had better carry out the orders as given.”
“Yes, we had-if I know the Lodge Master. Besides, it just might happen that I might need to kill somebody rather suddenly while you are gone. I’ll be covering your rear.”
“I suppose so.”
“Now let’s shut up and bone military.” We went back to walking our post.
At the two muted strokes of the middle of the watch I propped my spear against the wall, took off my sword and corselet and helmet and the rest of the ceremonial junk we were required to carry but which would hamper me on this job. Zeb shoved a gauntleted hand in mine and squeezed. Then I was off.
Two-four-six-forty paces. I groped in the dark along the left wall and found the opening, felt around with my foot. Ah, there were the steps! I was already in a part of the Palace I had never been in; I moved by dead reckoning in the dark and hoped the person who had written my orders understood that. One flight, two flights—I almost fell on my face when I stepped on a “top” step that wasn’t there.
Where was the refuse chute? It should be at hand level and the instructions said “head of the stairs'. I was debating frantically whether to show a light or chance keeping it when my left hand touched its latch; with a sigh of relief I chucked away the evidence that could have incriminated so many others. I started to turn away, then was immediately filled with panic. Was that really an incinerator chute? Could—it have been the panel for a delivery lift instead? I groped for it in the dark again, opened it and shoved my hand in.
My hand was scorched even through my gauntlet; I jerked it back with relief and decided to trust my instructions, have no more doubts. But forty paces north the passageway jogged and that was not mentioned in my orders; I stopped and reconnoitered very cautiously, peering around the jog at floor level.
Twenty-five feet away the guard and the doorway. He was supposed to be one of us but I took no chances. I slipped a bomb from my belt, set it by touch to minimum intensity, pulled the primer and counted off five seconds to allow for point blank range. Then I threw it and ducked back into the jog to protect myself from the rays.
I waited another five seconds and stuck my head around. The guard was slumped down on the floor, with his forehead bleeding slightly where it had struck a fragment of the bomb case. I hurried out and stepped over him, trying to run and keep quiet at the same time. The central passage of the Virgins” quarters was dim, with only blue night lights burning, but I could see and I reached the end of the passage quickly-then jammed on the brakes. The female guard at the cell there, instead of walking a post, was seated on the floor with her back to the door.
Probably she was dozing, for she did not look up at once. Then she did so, saw me, and I had no time to make plans; I dove for her. My left hand muffled her scream; with the edge of my left hand I chopped the side of her neck-not a killing stroke but I had no time to be gentle; she went limp.