whispered.
“For
criminals they deem especially dangerous,” the Biri answered, “ones who might
kill us others, when we might better be offered to Ulahane instead.”
“Manalo
is no murderer!”
“No,
but he served the Kuruites poorly in another way—by never ceasing to preach the
virtues of Lomallin as he nursed us in our illness or sought to heal our
hearts.”
“Dangerous
indeed!” Ohaern said with a grin, then raised his voice a little, more by
urgency than loudness. “Teacher! Sage! Manalo! Do you hear me?”
There
was a second’s silence, then the clank of chains and finally Manalo’s voice
itself! “I hear you indeed, Ohaern.”
Ohaern’s
heart leaped with gladness, and he suddenly realized how deeply afraid he had
been that Manalo might have been dead. “Teacher, I have come to take you out of
this place!”
Manalo’s
laugh was as gentle as always. “Well done, Ohaern, and I will follow you
gladly—if you can open this door and sunder my chains.”
“The
door? Is there a door?” Ohaern waved the Biri away, set one hand on the little
window and the other on the handle, braced a foot against the wall and heaved.
For a moment nothing happened; then a groaning sounded, and the nails in the
hinges began to move. Faster and faster they came out, then sprang loose. The
door jolted wide, ripping the copper hasp. Ohaern staggered backward, then
tossed the door aside and called, “Teacher! Come out!”
“I
cannot,” Manalo answered simply. “There is a spell on this cell that I cannot
overcome with any magic of my own— and I am bound down.”
Ohaern
mouthed an obscenity and went in. The darkness was total here, but his hands
found Manalo’s body—or at least, the cold links that wound around his chest.
Ohaern took hold of the chain, but Manalo said, “There are five of them, one
around my shoulders, one around my elbows and stomach, a third around my wrists
and hips, and a fourth around my thighs. The fifth binds my ankles and is
fastened to the wall.”
“They
really do fear you!” Ohaern exclaimed. “Well, that last shall be no
problem.” He bent down, groped over Manalo’s knees and shins, then found the
chain. He set himself against it and pulled. The cell was silent for a moment,
then the links popped. Ohaern staggered upright, saying, “It will take too long
to break each of them—and they are so tight about your body that I cannot get a
proper grip. They shall have to wait until we are far from the town.”
“But
how shall you take me there?” Manalo asked. “Your strength is amazing, Ohaern,
but surely not—” He broke off as the darkness tilted around him and Ohaern
slung him over one hip. Then, holding Manalo fast with one arm, Ohaern said, “Quickly,
that is how! Come, Teacher, before we are discovered!” He strode out of the
cell.
The
Biri gaped. “No human man is that strong!”
“There
was an accident at my birth,” Ohaern said impatiently. “Guide me out, friend!”
Other
men were coming awake and beginning to cry out.
“Silence,
all of you!” Ohaern hissed. “If I escape, you may follow me! Come, but be
quiet, or the soldiers will charge upon you!”
The
prisoners fell silent and crawled to their feet, following him like a host of
dim shadows. The Biri guided Ohaern through the near-darkness, back to the
door. There, the big hunter turned to the prisoners and whispered, “Go
soft-foot, and bring down the sentries at the gate! If you can be gone from the
stockade before they can raise the alarm, you may live! Give them warning
sooner, and you are dead men!”
“We
will be as silent as a fox stalking a wood hen,” someone promised.
“Be
so,” Ohaern said. “Do not attack the guards on this prison’s door—they are my
own men.”
“Your
own men?” another prisoner asked, astonished. “What happened to the Kuruite
guards!”
“They
still live—I think. Now, go quietly!” Ohaern turned away, but heard a last
whisper at his back:
“For
criminals they deem especially dangerous,” the Biri answered, “ones who might
kill us others, when we might better be offered to Ulahane instead.”
“Manalo
is no murderer!”
“No,
but he served the Kuruites poorly in another way—by never ceasing to preach the
virtues of Lomallin as he nursed us in our illness or sought to heal our
hearts.”
“Dangerous
indeed!” Ohaern said with a grin, then raised his voice a little, more by
urgency than loudness. “Teacher! Sage! Manalo! Do you hear me?”
There
was a second’s silence, then the clank of chains and finally Manalo’s voice
itself! “I hear you indeed, Ohaern.”
Ohaern’s
heart leaped with gladness, and he suddenly realized how deeply afraid he had
been that Manalo might have been dead. “Teacher, I have come to take you out of
this place!”
Manalo’s
laugh was as gentle as always. “Well done, Ohaern, and I will follow you
gladly—if you can open this door and sunder my chains.”
“The
door? Is there a door?” Ohaern waved the Biri away, set one hand on the little
window and the other on the handle, braced a foot against the wall and heaved.
For a moment nothing happened; then a groaning sounded, and the nails in the
hinges began to move. Faster and faster they came out, then sprang loose. The
door jolted wide, ripping the copper hasp. Ohaern staggered backward, then
tossed the door aside and called, “Teacher! Come out!”
“I
cannot,” Manalo answered simply. “There is a spell on this cell that I cannot
overcome with any magic of my own— and I am bound down.”
Ohaern
mouthed an obscenity and went in. The darkness was total here, but his hands
found Manalo’s body—or at least, the cold links that wound around his chest.
Ohaern took hold of the chain, but Manalo said, “There are five of them, one
around my shoulders, one around my elbows and stomach, a third around my wrists
and hips, and a fourth around my thighs. The fifth binds my ankles and is
fastened to the wall.”
“They
really do fear you!” Ohaern exclaimed. “Well, that last shall be no
problem.” He bent down, groped over Manalo’s knees and shins, then found the
chain. He set himself against it and pulled. The cell was silent for a moment,
then the links popped. Ohaern staggered upright, saying, “It will take too long
to break each of them—and they are so tight about your body that I cannot get a
proper grip. They shall have to wait until we are far from the town.”
“But
how shall you take me there?” Manalo asked. “Your strength is amazing, Ohaern,
but surely not—” He broke off as the darkness tilted around him and Ohaern
slung him over one hip. Then, holding Manalo fast with one arm, Ohaern said, “Quickly,
that is how! Come, Teacher, before we are discovered!” He strode out of the
cell.
The
Biri gaped. “No human man is that strong!”
“There
was an accident at my birth,” Ohaern said impatiently. “Guide me out, friend!”
Other
men were coming awake and beginning to cry out.
“Silence,
all of you!” Ohaern hissed. “If I escape, you may follow me! Come, but be
quiet, or the soldiers will charge upon you!”
The
prisoners fell silent and crawled to their feet, following him like a host of
dim shadows. The Biri guided Ohaern through the near-darkness, back to the
door. There, the big hunter turned to the prisoners and whispered, “Go
soft-foot, and bring down the sentries at the gate! If you can be gone from the
stockade before they can raise the alarm, you may live! Give them warning
sooner, and you are dead men!”
“We
will be as silent as a fox stalking a wood hen,” someone promised.
“Be
so,” Ohaern said. “Do not attack the guards on this prison’s door—they are my
own men.”
“Your
own men?” another prisoner asked, astonished. “What happened to the Kuruite
guards!”
“They
still live—I think. Now, go quietly!” Ohaern turned away, but heard a last
whisper at his back:
Similar Books
