"Perhaps I might purchase the man," Morik explained. "I am a man of no small means, I assure you, and could surely use a strong slave at my side as I begin the search for my missing companions."
"Not a chance," Feringal replied rather sharply.
"But if he is familiar with these parts. ." Morik started to reason.
"He is going to die horribly for the harm he brought to my wife," Lord Feringal retorted.
"Ah, yes, my lord," Morik said. "The incident has distressed her."
"The incident has left her with child!" Feringal yelled, grabbing the arms of his chair so forcefully that his knuckles whitened.
"My lord!" the steward cried at the unwise announcement, and Meralda gasped. Morik was glad for their shock, as it covered his own.
Lord Feringal calmed quickly, forcing himself back into his seat and mumbling an apology to Meralda. "Lord Brandeburg, I beg your forgiveness," he said. "You understand my anger."
"I will castrate the dog for you," Morik replied, drawing forth his sword. "I assure you that I am skilled at such arts."
That broke the tension in the room somewhat. Even Lord Feringal managed a smile. "We will take care of the unpleasantries," he replied, "but I would, indeed, enjoy your company at the execution of sentence. Will you stay as my guest for the two days?"
Morik bowed very low. "I am at your service, my lord."
Soon after, Morik was brought to an inn just beyond the castle bridge. He wasn't thrilled to learn that Lord Feringal kept guests outside the castle walls. That would make it all the harder for him to get near Wulfgar. He did learn from the escort, though, that Wulfgar was being kept in a dungeon beneath the castle.
Morik had to get to his friend, and fast, for, given the false accusations placed against Wulfgar, Lord Feringal would surely and horribly kill the man. A daring rescue had never been a part of Morik's plan. Many thieves were sold to adventuring lords, and so he had hoped Lord Feringal would part with this one for a handsome sum-and the lord's own gold, at that-but rapists, particularly men who ravished noblewomen, found only one, horrible fate.
Morik stared out the window of his small room, looking to Castle Auck and the dark waters beyond. He would try to find some way to get to Wulfgar, but he feared he would be returning to Luskan alone.
Chapter 23 THE SECOND ATTEMPTED JUSTICE
"Here's your last meal, dog," said one of the two guards standing outside Wulfgar's cell. The man spat on the food and slipped the tray in through the slot.
Wulfgar ignored them and made no move for the food. He could hardly believe that he had escaped execution in Luskan, only to be killed in some nondescript fiefdom. It struck him, then, that perhaps he had earned this. No, he hadn't harmed the woman, of course, but his actions of the last months, since he had left Drizzt and the others in Icewind Dale-since ho had slapped Catti-brie across the face-were not those of a man undeserving of such a grim fate. Hadn't Wulfgar and Drizzt killed monsters for the same crimes that Wulfgar had committed? Had the pair not gone into the Spine of the World in pursuit of a giant band that had been scouting out the trail, obviously planning to waylay merchant wagons? What mercy had they shown the giants? What mercy, then, did Wulfgar deserve?
Still, it bothered the big man more than a little, shook what little confidence he had left in justice and humanity, that both in Luskan and in Auckney he had been convicted of crimes for which he was innocent. It made no sense to him. If they wanted to kill him so badly, why not just do it for those crimes he had committed? There were plenty of those from which to chose.
He caught the last snatches of the guards' conversation as they walked away down the tunnel. "A wretched child it'll be, coming from such loins as that."
"It'll tear Lady Meralda apart, with its da so big!"
That gave Wulfgar pause. He sat in the dark for a long while, his mouth hanging open. Now it began to make a little more sense to him as he put the pieces of the puzzle together. He knew from the guards' previous conversations that Lord Feringal and Lady Meralda were only recently married, and now she was with child, but not by Lord Feringal.
Wulfgar nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all. He had become a convenient excuse for an adulterous noblewoman, a balm against Lord Feringal's cuckolding.
"What luck," he muttered, but he understood that more than bad luck had caused his current predicament. A series of bad choices on his part had landed him here in the dark with the spiders and the stench and the visits of the demon.
Yes, he deserved this, he believed. Not for the crimes accused, but for those committed.
*****
She couldn't sleep, couldn't even begin to close her eyes. Feringal had left her early and returned to his own room, for she had claimed discomfort and begged him to give her a reprieve from his constant amorous advances. It wasn't that she minded the man's attention. In fact, her lovemaking with Feringal was certainly pleasant, and were it not for the child and the thought of the poor man in the dungeon, it would go far beyond pleasant.
Meralda had come to know that her change of heart concerning Feringal was well founded, that he was a gentle and decent man. She had little trouble looking at Feringal in a I fresh way, recognizing his handsome features and his charm, though that was somewhat buried by his years under the influences of his shrewish sister. Meralda could unearth that charm, she knew, could bring out the best in Feringal and live in bliss with the good man.
However, the woman found that she could not tolerate herself. How her foolishness had come back to haunt her in the form of the baby in her womb, in the simmering anger within her husband. Perhaps the most bitter blow of all to Meralda was the forthcoming execution of an innocent man, a man who had saved her from the very crime for which he was to be horribly killed.
After Wulfgar had been dragged away, Meralda tried to rationalize the sentence, reminding herself that the man was, indeed, a highwayman, going so far as to tell herself that the barbarian had victimized others, perhaps even raped other women.
But those arguments hadn't held water, for Meralda knew better. Though he had robbed her carriage, she'd gotten a fair glimpse into the man's character. Her lie had caused this. Her lie would bring the brutal execution to a man undeserving.
Meralda lay late into the night, thinking herself the most horrible person in all the world. She hardly realized that she was moving sometime later, padding barefoot along the castle's cold stone floor with the guiding light of a single candle. She went to Temigast's room, pausing at the door to hear the reassuring sounds of the old man's snoring, and in she crept. As the steward, Temigast kept the keys to every door in the castle on a large wrought iron ring.
Meralda found the ring on a hook above the steward's Dresser, and she took it quietly, glancing nervously at Temigast with every little noise. Somehow she got out of the room without, waking the man, then skittered across the audience hall, past the servant's quarters, and into the kitchen. There she found the trap door leading to the levels below, bolted and barred so strongly that no man, not even a giant, could hope to open it. Unless he had the keys.
Meralda fumbled with them, trying each until she had finally thrown every lock and shifted every bar aside. She paused, collecting herself, trying to form a more complete plan. She heard the guards then, laughing in a side room, and paced over to peer inside. They were playing bones.
Meralda went to the larder door, a hatch really, that led to the outside wall of the castle. There wasn't much room among the rocks out there, especially if the tide was in, which it was, but it would have to do. Unlocking it as well, the woman went to the trap door and gently pulled it open. Slipping down to the dirty tunnels, she walked barefoot in the slop, hiking her dressing gown up so that it would carry no revealing stains.