" So it seems," said the spider. " No wonder the attraction was so potent for those along Lossal. Inyx is a comely female- for a human. However, please remember, friend Lan Martak, you were quite willing to gawk at someone else."
" They won' t get away with this," muttered Lan, under his breath.
The grey- clads snapped to attention when a tall man escorted Inyx out, Lan eyed the man, burning his every feature into memory. His stomach sank as he began itemizing: the man was good- looking. He carried himself with an air that spoke of decisiveness, and Lan knew that the soldier was nobody' s fool. Those cold eyes missed little as they scanned the crowd arrayed around len- Larrotti' s Fine Rooms.
" He did not see us," said Krek. " They travel further south on Lossal."
" We' re following them," said Lan. " I' ve lost Inyx in the whiteness between worlds. I lost her for almost two weeks on this damned planet. I' m not going to lose her now!"
They trailed along, only a half- block separating grey- clad soldiers from Krek and Lan. Lan fingered his swinging death cylinder, considering, calculating, evaluating his chances. The time wasn' t yet right to rescue Inyx.
Dammit!
CHAPTER TEN
Inyx screamed in abject agony. Every nerve in her body exploded in a pyrotechnic display of pain. She writhed about, kicking, moaning, sobbing. When she thought there wouldn' t be any way to survive another instant of the excruciating pain, it mounted and a fresh wave of torture wracked her. She didn' t know how long she was lost in that wasteland of pain. A second. A day. Her guess was eternity.
When the woman began to recover, she found that her limbs hadn' t been broken into a million pieces, that her intestines hadn' t been pulled out and strung around the room, that she was completely intact. Inyx sat and checked herself carefully. Not even a scratch.
" Ho, good lady," came the now- familiar mocking, shrill voice of the Lord of the Twistings. " Wasn' t that just about the most delightful experience?"
" What happened?" she asked. Her body had been freed of pain; her brain remained clouded with the memory.
" You found the way out of my favorite maze. Oh, it was exciting. Seldom have I experienced such enthusiasm for a subject. You are the first to discover the secret of that maze."
" I am, eh?" She fought to control the mad rush of her pulse, the hammer of blood in her temples.
" It' s not finished. Yes, that' s my little secret. I haven' t had time to construct more than one level of the maze. Getting up and out of that plane allows you to leave."
" The pain," she mumbled.
" A small indication of the barrier spell, nothing more."
Nothing more? Inyx rolled to hands and knees and paused there for a moment, regaining her composure. It proved difficult in this animallike position. Her tattered clothing fell off her, leaving her more naked than clothed.
" You are also the first to figure out so quickly how I compact so much into the tiny space available. Why, the former Lord of the Twistings still hasn' t figured it out, and he' s a sorcerer!"
The Lord giggled and started turning handsprings. On the last one, his hand slipped on the marble floor, sending him crashing into an ornately carved oak table. He picked himself up, laughing boisterously. To all outward appearances, the Lord of the Twistings was a buffoon, a complete and total fool. Inyx knew better. However he acted, a shrewd and capable mind backed his actions.
She had no doubt that the Lord was completely insane. That didn' t prevent him from being brilliant. If anything, it made him even more dangerous.
" Come, look at my other mazes. See this one. I' m just now building it."
Inyx cautiously followed. The Lord ignored her hesitation and raced forward, cavorting and pointing out the more gruesome particulars of his already- built mazes.
" This is a special favorite," he boasted. " Only one percent of all those put in ever live. And they aren' t worth much after a few days. It gets so tiring trying to find those who can survive my intricately constructed mazes."
Inyx felt her stomach churn at the sight of tiny people struggling along inside the maze. They had teamed up to fend off the maze creatures the Lord of the Twistings sent after them.
" This was the first maze in which I exclusively used the nervedeadening trap. I' ve since learned to direct it toward particular parts of the body. Like so."
The lead figure in the maze, hardly more than six inches tall, suddenly vented forth a shriek of miniature anguish and clutched at its thigh. Inyx couldn' t tell if the victim was male or female. It didn' t matter. What counted was the Lord' s outrageous sadism.
" The people of Dicca elected you to do this to them?" Inyx asked. " Why don' t they take you out, strip the flesh from your living body, and let the crows peck away at you?"
" That' s interesting, but uninspired," he said in an offhand manner. " How about flaying off the skin, dipping in salt and acid, then letting the crows loose? Or perhaps cut worms. Yes, that' s much more interesting. Cut worms."
" If any of the others is elected, would they change all this?" she asked, motioning to the playroom.
" Oh, certainly they would, certainly they would. Take Jonrod the Flash, for instance. He' d never play with miniature mazes. He' d do away with all these in a flash- and reserve a place in the Twistings for his enemies."
Inyx felt sick to her stomach.
" Then there' s that silly slut Clarita Zannermast. She' d ruin everything I' ve worked so hard to build here." The Lord started to pout at the thought of anyone else being elected. " The ignorant slut. Why, she' s told me- confidentially, of course- that she' d make all this public. Imagine sharing these fine excursions into the human condition with the masses. Really! She' d share this, make it all open to the gawking, unappreciative electorate."
" A fine group runs for Lord," said Inyx in a low, cold voice that might have been nerve- deadened by one of the maze traps.
" The finest. Absolutely the finest Dicca has to offer. That' s why I must be especially tactful this year to retain my position. Why, any one of them might unthrone me."
" That will not happen, Lord," came Alberto Silvain' s smooth voice. Inyx glanced at him. His dark face still shone with perspiration, and a pinched quality about his lips told of the strain he was under. Otherwise, he was his urbane self.
" No, no, it won' t, will it, my good sir? Not with your Claybore aiding me. Not with all those fine grey- clad soldiers rushing about, making certain my opponents don' t get too many votes. That just wouldn' t do, now would it? And who knows, Claybore might even get what he wants. Wouldn' t that be nice?"
" Claybore has only your well- being in mind," said Silvain.
" He' s lying," blurted Inyx. " They want what you have."
" Of course they do," said the Lord, laughing so hard he approached the brink of total hysteria. " And they won' t get it away from me. Not now, not ever."
Inyx studied Silvain. Determination slowly replaced fear. The Lord of the Twistings had better watch his step around this man. Nobody had such perfect control that one like Alberto Silvain couldn' t bring the entire house tumbling down.
" Come, oh yes, come, my good friends. It is about time for the noonday election speech. This one is special, ever so special. You' ll both just simply love it to death."
Silvain gripped Inyx just above the elbow with a strength not easily broken. He took no chances with her this time. She went along as docile as a lamb. She needed to regain her strength.
Then she' d strike out again.
" This studio is unique to the Lord," said Silvain in a low voice. " It is his greatest weapon in the fight to get reelected."
Inyx stared in wonder at the mechanicals bustling about the large room. The apparatus they dutifully tended meant nothing to her. One mechanical, the one in charge of the others, pointed. A large hanging on the far wall shimmered and became transparent- or so Inyx thought at first.