"I can move," Naitachal said. "But I can't work any magic. What was that Soren used on me?"
"I don't know, but I think it's the same thing they used on Alaire before they hauled him away." Lyam clutched the bars desperately, his knuckles white. "You can't do anything magically?
Naitachal shook his head "Not yet. But the drug's wearing off. If I pretend I'm still incapacitated by it, they may forget to dose me again. As long as I'm able to move, I still might be able to do something. Any idea where they took Kai?"
"The Prison of Souls," Lyam said dismally. "It Sir Jehan is incarcerating anyone there who might be a threat to him, whether or not they've used magic."
No guards stood watch over them now; but down the long hallway, from somewhere within the palace, he could hear the distinct sounds of fighting. Shout- ing, screaming, the clash of metal and leather. The sounds were distant, mere echoes down the hallway.
But unmistakable. The coup was in progress Jehan could spare no man to watch over them.
"There may be another way. Something I was going to look into, before we were interrupted," Naitachal said absently, trying to get to the cell door. But the chain pulled taut, stopping him before he could get within arm's length of it.
Fine, then, I'll look to that first!
He examined the padlock that fastened the chain to the floor. It seemed deceptively simple, but the key hole was curved, and narrow, nothing like he'd seen before. Though large and bulky, the mechanism inside didn't rattle around like the Althean locks Tich'ki had taught him to pick.
Fairies. You can't rely on them for anything.
He looked around for something that would work as a pick, and realized how much he relied on magic to get himself out of fixes like these.
But before the search for a pick got too far under- way, a ruckus at the end of the hallway interrupted him. King Archenomen's voice bellowed out of the darkness at the end of the hall, followed by the clank and rattle of chains and shackles.
"How dare you imprison your King!" roare King. "I'll have you all boiled in oil! Every last traitor- ous one of you! I'll have you skinned alive! I'll bury you in wasp nests! I'll see you wrapped in hot wires until you scream in agony and you're dead, dead, DEAD!"
Guards shoved King Archenomen into the dun- geon. Shackled around the neck and wrists, the King struggled as three large guards pulled him along, like masters leading a reluctant dog at the end of a leash.
His face was the color of overripe tomatoes. Stripped of his royal finery, he was now shivering half-naked in nothing more than a pair of breeches.
"Into the cell," one of the guards said indifferently.
"King Jehan will be down presently."
The words sent Archenomen into a fit of rage.
"King? Jehan! You'll die! All of you!"
They tossed the former King, sputtering and gur- gling in incomprehensible monosyllables, into the Kai had occupied, and padlocked him to the floor like the rest of them. Then they turned and left, without a word.
Naitachal favored him with a sardonic smile, and despite the gravity of their situation, he could not resist getting a dig in. "Hard to find good help these days, isn't it, Your Majesty?"
Archenomen ignored him. He raged at the end of his chain like a maddened lion. "Where is Sir Jehan?
Where is the traitor? Is he such a coward that he can no longer face the King he claimed he was willing to die for yesterday?"
Naitachal sadly shook his head. He still doesn't understand, does he? the elf thought dismally. Was he so blinded by Jehan that he thinks none of this was planned?
Down the hallway, he still heard sounds of fighting, although these were a little more subdued now.
Apparently the capture of the King had taken some of the strength out of the battle. How many are still loyal? How many are willing to keep fighting? How loyal are his men?
How long do we have before we're executed?
Naitachal marveled at the expertise with which his magic-using abilities had been neutralized. Unbeliev- able. He had never before come across anything, spell or drug, that could have so thorough an effect. Lyam looked frantically from the Dark Elf to his King and back again.
The guards had left them in a hurry, apparently to return to the fighting. If only he could use his magic, or even pick the lock of his chains!
Archenomen sat, dejected, in the center of the cell.
"Oh, what a fine mess this is! Lyam, you were right all along. I wouldn't have thought it possible before, but that murdering, oath-breaking blackguard is out for the Crown!"
Lyam squirmed over to the bars, as close t King as he could manage. "Who does he have? How many? I can't believe my men have fallen in with him."
"Your men are the only ones who are staying loyal!"
Archenomen said, despondently. "It's the bodyguards, the Swords of the Association, and some of the consta- bles who are trying to take control. The Royal Guard are the only ones standing between Jehan and my throne!"
Were, Naitachal thought dryly. Now that Jehan's troops have you, Archenomen, there is nothing stand- ing between Jehan and the throne. But you don't seem to have figured that out yet. "Have they taken prison- ers?" Naitachal asked. "We seem to be the only ones in here."
Archenomen looked over at him with a face full of woe, and white as the snow outside the palace. "The only prisoners I've seen have been taken away, t Association Hall. That seems to be their stronghold.
Last I saw the traitors had run the guard out of the palace and cornered them in the guardhouse."
"These aren't the only dungeons," Lyam inf Naitachal, then turned his attention back to the King.
"Tell me, Your Majesty, where are they putting the prisoners?"
Archenomen shook his head, "I think they're going to -- to the Prison of Souls, if not now, then eventually."
Lyam groaned. "There's a network of catacombs under the hall, designed to confuse anyone who is not familiar with the layout. That is the Prison of S Naitachal. There are also regular prison cells, where they could keep prisoners before actually stealing their souls and putting them in the crystals."
"They would have to be using every last one of their men to keep the Royal Guard at bay," Naitachal observed. "I doubt they have time or peace for any involved spell-casting."
True. I suspect that when the battle is over then they will start imprisoning the souls of those they hold captive." Lyam shuddered. "All my men..."
Archenomen looked around, feverishly, as if sud- denly noticing his son was gone. "Kainemonen?
Where is he? Have they taken him away?"
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lyam said sadly. "I think I overheard them say they were taking him to the Asso- ciation Hall."
"No!" Archenomen said. "They can't be thinking to -- "
"I'm afraid they are," Naitachal said absently, his mind busy trying to see some way out of this. And wondering if there was anything left of his hapless apprentice. Alaire? What has become of you? Are you even alive?
The arrival of more guards in the dungeon inter- rupted his thoughts. Four of them, wielding loaded crossbows, covered four more who opened the cells, entered, and started unlocking the chains from the floor.