"There would be a way out," the carpenter said. "The room is just to buy time."
The sorceress appeared. She exchanged words with Mo'atabar. Mo'atabar said,
"She tells me there are three ways out. One is in the floor, here." Hestomped. "One is in the wall, here." Thump went a fist. "The other one is inthis wall, here. Open them up."
Medjhah tried brute force again, without luck this time.
"Let me," the carpenter said. He had pulled himself together. Other thanthunder nothing had happened for so long he was starting to hope again. Maybethe sorceress's lack of haste encouraged him.
It took him just a minute to open the secret doors.
"Good." Mo'atabar studied the openings. "Kosuth, down you go. Medjhah, youtake this one. Yoseh, you take that one. Be careful but don't waste time. TheLiving have started in on that wall."
The sorceress said something, went away. Yoseh hoped she was going to delaythe veydeen. He could not worry about them, though. He stared at that littledoorway, scared stiff. It barely seemed big enough ... Mo'atabar kepttalking, did such a good job making it sound routine that he felt shamed byhis reluctance. He swallowed, crawled into the hole.
It became an upward shaft immediately, that had to go all the way to the sky, up and up and up, into silence, into darkness like Nakar's own heart.
It got scarier. After he climbed so far he lost count of rungs, thunder shookthe citadel. He felt the vibrations. For a moment he was afraid the placewould fall down around him.
He climbed more slowly, conserving his strength. The ringing cleared from hisears-and what at first seemed imagination proved to be a genuine whisper thatfrightened him more till he realized it had to be rain falling on a surfaceoverhead.
He paused, rested, marshaled his courage, resumed his climb. Three rungshigher his hand closed on slick moisture. It remained sticky when he pulled itaway.
The crown of his head bumped something hard and cold. He felt around. Rustyiron? The rain drummed away. It would be thick and heavy.
This was the final test. He could retreat and report and suffer no questionsbut he would always wonder, was he a Dartar warrior or some cringing veydeenmouse?
He pushed with his head, increased the pressure till the metal gave. Nothinghappened. He pushed again, slowly, steadily, till his eyes rose above theedge-and he was face-to-face with someone just a foot away.
He nearly let go. He did squeak. That was the child-taker, lying dead orsleeping in the rain. Nobody could sleep in the rain, could they?
He pushed till his shoulders reached roof level. He saw Arif and the Witch, sprawled in the rain, dead or sleeping, too.
What now?
He reached for his knife, to make sure of the child-taker, then changed hismind and reached for Arifs ankle. If he could drag the boy over and carry himdown ...
Something hit him so fast he never saw it coming. He slammed back against theside of the shaft, then fell.
Squeak. Azel remained motionless only because of the watery state of hisflesh. Weak as a newborn, he couldn't betray himself when he wakened.
He cracked an eyelid, saw the Dartar kid from the Shu. That little bastard waseverywhere. Haunting him. How the hell had he gotten up here? Azel realized hehad rolled off the trapdoor after he'd fallen asleep.
Gorloch or luck gave him the moment he needed and the energy to capitalize.
The Dartar turned, reached for the Arif brat, got him by the foot. Azel puteverything he had into his punch. The Dartar flew backward, fell, the brat'sshoe flipping after him. "Hope you land on your head, asshole."
He didn't have energy enough to stand. The rainwater where he'd lain was red.
Clots of blood floated there. Damn! He was bleeding to death. Wouldn't that beironic? He rolled into a sitting position atop the trapdoor. Thank Gorloch ithad fallen shut. He would not have had the strength to close it had it fallenthe other way.
He fiddled with his bandages till he got the bleeding stopped. One more smalleffort, then he would put down roots.
He eased over to the Witch. "Wake up, woman." No response. Whap! He crackedher cheek with his palm, rocked her head halfway around. "Come on, damn it!
This is it. You get on the stick and call up Nakar or kiss your ass good-bye.
They know where we're at and we got nowhere else to hide." He popped heragain. This time he glimpsed a flash of eyeball.
That was it. That was all he had, except an ounce of iron will that let himguide himself as he collapsed, so his torso sprawled across a corner of thetrapdoor.
The first blow reached her but the drug held her. The second sent alarums ofpain coursing through her. She opened one eye far enough to see her tormentor.
Azel? But how ... ? She was soaked. She lay in a pool of water. Rain fellupon her still. Thunder stalked overhead. The chill followed the pain insideher, opening channels through which thought and sense began to flow. Shegained control as Azel fell as if he had melted.
She shoved her upper body up to the length of her arms, turned her headslowly. Her thoughts did not run crisply but she could reason. And she couldremember some of what had been happening around her while the drug ruled her.
She understood where she was and why and how she had come to be there and forone moment she actually appreciated Azel and his stubbornness.
She had yielded to weakness, perhaps to defeatism, and had permitted herselftoo much of the drug. Fool. Maybe she was as crazy as Azel claimed. Maybe she didn't deserve Nakar back. Maybe she was too weak.
Her body would not support itself. She collapsed. But she resisted the allureof sleep, of escape. The hour had come. Time had run out. Azel had said theyknew where she was ... Her gaze fell on the boy.
He was asleep. More than asleep. Unconscious. She felt Nakar in there, quiescent, in a twilight of near-awareness, reluctant to come nearer thelight.
Ala-eh-din Beyh.
Of course! That was it, as Azel had insisted. Nakar dared not come forward. Todo so meant facing the consequences of total defeat. He had lost that struggle... Her fault. Her fault completely.
But ... Vaguely, as though recalling a fading dream, she recapturedtenuous memories from below. Azel hitting the other child. Azel had broken hisneck. Ala-eh-din Beyh would not be there now. That vicious soul had traveledon.
It was here for the taking. All she had lived and suffered for. If she kepther wits and conquered her flesh and found the strength to draw forth herbeloved's soul.
She wept a single tear, though. Never again would her man be the man she hadknown. The body was still down below. That Herodian sorceress, that bitch fromthe same kennel as Ala-eh-din Beyh, would have wasted no time destroying it.
She looked at the boy and laughed madly, picturing herself mothering the newyoung Nakar. Then she turned to the things Azel had brought up. What sheneeded would be there. Azel always did whatever had to be done.
She was slow, so slow, but soon she was ready, soon she was reaching into thedarkness, calling her love.
Arif was lost in a nightmare. He could not wake up. He was terrified but notas much now as he had been. This was so unreal he could not believe it completely. He seemed to hear his mother reassuring him, "It's only a dream, Arif. It's only a dream."
Something alien was there in the darkness with him, frightened and wary, too, but big and dangerous and patient, like a giant, poisonous toad waiting in thedark for prey. That thing moved seldom. So far he had fought it off each timeit had. He had begun to gain confidence there.
Then the voice came, remote at first, a woman calling. "Mother?" The voicecalled, compelling and reassuring. He seemed to turn toward it and move thatway. The voice grew louder. He moved eagerly-till he recognized it as thevoice of the beautiful, evil woman who stole children.
He tried to stop moving toward the light, could not.