All Darkness Met by Glen Cook Page B

own when he hit the floor of the cell.... Darkness. Peaceful, restful darkness.
    The night whispers returned. They changed, becoming gentle, delicate whispers, happy, cheerful whispers, like those of a nymph beneath a waterfall. They calmed him. They shaped him.
    Then there were gentle, feminine hands, and the distant murmur of grave-voiced men. But for a long time he was bound, his eyes blindfolded. His memories remained vague, confused. A man in a mask. El Murid’s men... he thought. And Mercenary officers.
    They kept him drugged and he knew that, but occasionally he came round long enough to catch snatches of conversation.
    Once, evidently, a new nurse: “Oh, dear! What happened?” Horror filled her voice.
    “He was tortured,” a man replied. “Burned. I don’t entirely understand it. From what he says, he was set up by men hethought were his friends. Nobody knows why yet. Lord Chin rescued him.”
    What? Mocker thought. His brains must be scrambled. Wasn’t Chin the torturer?
    “It was a complicated plot. One of his friends apparently tipped El Murid’s agents, who kidnapped him. Then he sent mercenaries who staged a rescue-then turned him over to this Haroun, who wore the mask the Lord lost when the Dragon tried invading the west.”
    “You said....”
    “There’s a link between man and mask. The Lord lost his, but he still knows everything that happens if someone wears it.... Hold it. I think he’s coming around. Better give him another sniff. He needs a lot more healing before we let him wake up.”
    It may have been a day or week later. It was another man and another woman. This time the man seemed to be the newcomer.
    “... says Lord Chin transferred right into the dungeon. For some reason bin Yousif wore the captured mask that day instead of the one he’d had made to look like it. Lord Chin knew the minute he put it on. He’d broken the eye crystals, apparently thinking that was enough to end the connection.”
    “Bet the Lord caused an uproar.”
    The woman laughed musically. “They’re still petrified, thinking Shinsan’s coming again. They’re chasing their tails. They don’t know there’s a new order here, that Ehelebe has come.”
    “What happened?”
    “The one called Haroun got away. Lord Chin punished the others.”
    “Bin Yousif would. He’s slippery.”
    “He can’t run forever. Ehelebe has come. None shall escape the justice of the Pracchia.”
    Even in his dazed state Mocker thought that a little preachy. Perhaps the woman was a fanatic or recent convert.
    “What were they trying to do?”
    “Lord Chin thinks they were preparing him as a weapon against Shinsan. The man called Ragnarson is paranoid about it.... Get that cotton and the bottle. He’s waking up.”
    People stirred. Mocker smelted something sweet.
    “How much longer?”
    “A month, maybe. The Lord....”
    There were more, shorter episodes, quickly ended by sharp-eyed physicians and nurses.
    Then came the day when they didn’t put him back under.
    “Can you hear me?”
    “Yes,” he whispered. His throat was dry and raw, as if his screams had never stopped.
    “Keep your eyes closed. We’re going to remove the bandages. Ming, get the curtain. He hasn’t used his eyes for months.”
    Hands ran over his face. The cold back edge of a scalpel dented his cheek. “Don’t move. I have to cut this.”
    The cloth slipped away. “Now. Open your eyes slowly.”
    For a while he saw nothing but bright and dim. Then shapes formed and, finally, vaguely discernible faces developed. Three men and five women surrounded him. They seemed anxious. One man’s mouth became a hole. Mocker heard, “Can you see anything?”
    “Yes.”
    A hand appeared. “How many fingers?”
    “Three.”
    The women tittered.
    “Good. Inform Lord Chin. We’ve succeeded.”
    They ran more simple tests, and freed him from the restraints. The speaker told him, “You’ve been laid up a long time. Don’t try getting up without help. We’ll