Then she was taken to Sarakos's bedchamber, and another kind of horror began.
She heard the massive door opening and whimpered, trying to draw her knees tighter to her chest. She kept her eyes closed. Which would it be; the crone with the whip or Sarakos himself? She remembered his parting words; "You have not pleased me. I would as soon have a corpse. But before you die, you will please me. You will beg for the chance."
"My Lady."
The voice seemed different. Familiar, and youthful. It was not Sarakos- "My Lady. There is little time. You must come now."
She was afraid. Was it a trick? But the voice was urgent. She found the courage to open her eyes and turn her head, although she dared not hope.
She saw kilts — her own plaid- and looked higher. "Caradoc!" she cried. He reached for her and she let him help her stand. He gasped when he saw her back, and she leaned on him as he led her urgently out of the bedchamber. There were two dead men lying at her door.
The hour was early. They saw no one as they went down the back stairs to the large cistern below ground; then to the massive doorways that led still farther below; to the caves of the Protectors. The ammonia smell was strong. She hesitated, but Caradoc hustled her through and closed the doors behind. Two acolytes with torches came to help her now. Their faces showed disapproval of this invasion of their realm.
They went through darkened tunnels, turning until she was lost. Finally they came to a larger room lit with another torch. Yanulf was there.
"The guards were drunk," Caradoc said. "I killed four. No one else was awake."
"We must be gone before they are found," Yanulf said. The priest turned to the acolytes. "Fetch bladders."
They stared at him in horror.
"Do you think Yatar prefers his secrets to the torture of his friends?" Yanulf snapped. "This lady treated us well. She will not reveal what she sees, nor will Caradoc."
The acolytes hesitated a moment more, then left. When they came back, they carried inflated sheep's bladders.
Yanulf pointed to a door in the chamber. "We will go through there. You must breathe only from the bladders, and you must hold your breath as long as possible. The journey is steep, and we cannot pause to rest until we are through the tunnels and outside the door on the far side. It will be dark. Is this understood?"
Tylara stared at him in confusion. She wanted to lie down, to rest, to sleep, to forget the pain in her back and the terrible pain between her thighs. Pain filtered the memories, but not entirely. "There is no need," she said. "Give me your dagger, and-"
"Don't be a fool," Yanulf told her. "Do you think I have invited Sarakos to violate Yatar's house just to let you die?"
"I may carry Sarakos's child," she said. "I'd rather be dead."
"Time enough when you know. But it's unlikely," Yanulf said. He was thoughtful for a moment. "Very unlikely, even leaving out your virginity."
The priests of Yanulf were said to know when women could conceive.
"Alive there is hope of vengeance," Caradoc said. "For you and for my father. Until I see Sarakos gull-feathered, I will stay alive."
"Come." Yanulf handed her the bladder. "Before you use the bladder, breathe deeply. Many times." He demonstrated. "More." When he was satisfied, he motioned to the acolytes to open the heavy doors.
There were more doors beyond. These next were sealed with leather. Tylara felt the ammonia stinging her eyes, and even through the bladder she could smell the pungent odor when the last doors were opened.
Cold welled out of the caves. She took an acolyte's hand and let herself be led into darkness.
There was no light at all. She felt the walls as they went through. There were shelves with baskets, and slabs of meat hanging below those. Between the shelves were slimy bulbous things, cold to the touch. Then there was ice.
They seemed to go on forever. The air in the bladder was stale, and her lungs ached so much that she nearly forgot her other pains. She was certain that she would faint from lack of breath, but at that moment they stopped. Light burst in from a door opened in front of them. They hurried through, past another door, and stood outside in the dying light of the night sun. To the east was the red of dawn.
There were horses. She felt herself lifted up behind Caradoc. She clung to him and they rode away. After a while, she fell asleep clinging to the archer. In her dreams, she had Sarakos flayed alive, and she smiled.
The true sun was high overhead when at last they stopped at a crossroads.
"We must hurry on," Yanulf was saying.
"This horse must rest," Caradoc answered. "Carrying double has nearly foundered him." He reached up to help Tylara down, then led the horse to the watering trough that stood next to the stone heap. He bowed to the heap before allowing the horse to drink.
Tylara bowed as well. Crossroads were sacred to the Guide of the Dead. Then she turned to Yanulf. "Thank you."
"Thank him." He pointed at Caradoc.
"I have. But we would not have escaped if you had not-" she stopped herself.
"Broken my oath of secrecy?" Yanulf said. "Yes. Doubtless I will answer for that. But I spoke truly to the acolytes. Yatar cannot wish his secrets held at such a cost."
"Where are we going?" Tylara asked.
Caradoc answered from behind her. "This is the east road," he said. "Perhaps we will find the boy Wanax and the Protector. And if not-it leads home."
Home. She looked to the east, but Tamaerthon was more than a hundred leagues, across salt flats and pirate lands. "There's someone coming," she said. She pointed eastward. Two men and a woman were walking up the road. The woman wore strange-trousered clothing like the men.
PART FOUR: THE CROSSROADS
1
The planet below did not look like Earth. The polar ice-caps were too large, and there was much more water, too little land. Despite the vast empty seas-because of them? Rick knew too little to guess-there were great deserts ringed by mountain ranges.
From high orbit there was no trace of man at all.
The pilot seemed to be afraid of them. He made them store all the ammunition for the rocket launchers and mortars in one locker and the guns in another. He made it clear that the two would be offloaded a considerable distance apart.
The last few hours had been continuous briefings with the pilot insisting that both Rick and Andrй Parsons attend them all. They were told how to raise surinomaz, which had a complex ecology and even more complex harvest procedure; how to use the transceivers to communicate with the traders when they came for the harvest; endless details, and always an underlying note of warning that the people of Tran were human and deserved to be well treated.
The landing area had been chosen: far enough from the equator to have an endurable climate even after the rogue sun came close; far enough from the poles to be inhabited even during the centuries when the invader was far away; at high enough altitude to remain dry when the polar caps melted and raised the sea level a hundred meters. There were several areas that would do, and Rick had no way to know which was best. He had pleaded with the pilot to let them spend several days observing the planet before landing, but that request was refused. The pilot seemed to be in a frantic hurry. Rick wondered why, but there was no explanation.
They moved to a lower orbit, and the TV screen showed images of the country below: a few large cities, but mostly a land of villages and fields. Many of the villages and all of the cities were dominated by massive castles. There were few roads.