‘ “A-matter of policy,” he said, very stiffly, and I could tell I had touched a nerve once more, but a different decay this time, possibly more rotten than the first.
“Then your soldiers are guarding nothing?”
“No, indeed-except, in theory, the tower.”
Liar.
I nodded, and, after a minute’s polite talk, sent him graciously away. I went to my room, and asked Mazlek to follow me.
“What do you know of the structural plan of the tower?” I asked him.
“Very little,” he said. “Stores and armories, private chambers above, below-kitchens, bathhouse, barracks-empty now.”
“And below that?”
“Cellars probably.”
Until that I had not been sure where my frenzied mental quest was taking me, drawing on my instincts only. But now I felt a rush of coldness through my body, knew I had grasped a piece of darkness, unseen, but vital.
“Cellars,” I repeated, “and under those-dungeons, Mazlek?”
I saw him check, as I had done.
“Yes,” he said, and stared at me.
Neither of us spoke of the sense of discovery which had come so abruptly. It was incredible, unthinkable. And yet, this tower: “My gift from the last Javhovor of Eshkorek Arnor,” Vazkor had said. And so, Vazkor’s possession, Vazkor’s fortress, defense, prison.
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“Mazlek,” I said. “After dark. The first hour. It should be quiet then.” And he nodded, so that I needed to say no more.
2
I did not mean to sleep at all that night, but tiredness made me lie on the curtained bed, and I dozed and woke up again in terrible starts. Dreams-faces, white with open eyes, staring, the stone bowl and its jumping fire … Mazlek’s scratch on the door. I sat up and pulled myself from the bed. I felt afraid, heavy with fear. I opened the door, and he stood there, a low burning lamp in one hand, drawn knife in the other.
“Goddess,” he said, “I asked one of Vazkor’s men how to get to the wine cellars. Not as low as we’ll need to go, but near it, I thought. About an hour later I went there and searched them thoroughly. There seemed to be no way to get farther down, but there was luck with me. The old woman came into the cellars by the stairs from the kitchen.”
“Did she see you, Mazlek?”
“No. I hid myself, but little need. I think her sight is weak, and her mind is worse. There is a moving panel, and steps beyond.”
“Does it open only to her?”
“No, goddess. When she had come back, and was gone again, I tried the place-a harlot of a wall, open to anyone.” For a moment he paused, the light flickering softly on his mask. Then he said, “She carried food of a kind, slops in a bowl. When she came back, she did not bring it with her.”
“Mazlek,” I said. My heartbeat was a fiery pain under my breast.
“If you would prefer to remain here, goddess, I will go there alone.”
“No,” I said.
He nodded, and turned away down the stairway, and I followed him.
I did not believe it, even then-could not let myself believe it. Yet I knew, with desperate certainty. Each step downward made me more impatient for the next, but, at the same moment, I was terrified.
It was a long way. Abruptly we reached the black vaulted place where they kept their wine and oil, and almost mesmer-
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ized by the endless winding stairs, I stumbled. Mazlek steadied me and I clutched his arm.
“Mazlek,” I said hoarsely, “do you believe the prisoner here is who I believe it to be-or am I mad?”
“Asren, Phoenix, Javhovor of Ezlann,” he said, as hoarsely as I.
I let out my breath in a stifled sigh.
“Yes, Mazlek. Yes.”
His hand settled on half invisible notchings in the wall. I thought it would not open, and almost screamed, but there came a soft grinding sound, and an area of dark stone slid sideways. Beyond, the light tripped itself on the worn treads of thirty steps, which I counted irresistibly as we descended, insanely struggling to keep my hysteria hi check. Mazlek, too, was unsteady. The light flicked and slipped on the walls, and I heard his breathing, harsh and uneven.
There was a smell of death-the smell of a tomb.
We reached a stone floor; on either side walls pressed close-a narrow passage. At the end of the passage, a wooden door, simply bolted on the outside.
We stopped, staring at the door. Impossible that hi that moment of finding we stood there petrified. Then I ran toward the door, breaking my nails as I scrabbled at bolts, and Mazlek was there too hi a second, reaching for others.
The door jerked, and we pulled it open.
The shuddering lamplight jumped on a tiny oblong room, windowless, and carpeted by reeking sacking. A figure sat facing us, cross-legged, covered in the rags and dirt of its imprisonment. Young, male, silent. Fair hair, streaked and matted, lay on the shoulders in tangled coils. Slowly the face was raised, catching a little of the light. Black-blue eyes looked into mine. Under the filth, a delicacy, chiseled too fine perhaps, beauty, yet not feminine in the least….
“My lord,” I whispered, “Asren-”
I took a step forward, but Mazlek’s hand fell brutal and burning on my shoulder.
“No, goddess.” His voice was tight, bruising as his fingers.
“Why … ? Why, Mazlek? Let me go.”
But I knew already. Neither he nor I could hold me back from a brink I had already fallen into.
The boy in the oblong room gave a little gurgling groan, and pulled himself away from the light of the lamp into one corner, where he curled himself into the protection of the fetal position.
I stood very still in the doorway, Mazlek behind, no longer
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any goal ahead of us, for we had found what we sought-Asren, Phoenix, Javhovor: but behind the eyes-nothing; behind the face-nothing. A brainless, helpless, whimpering thing, trapped in a body we remembered.
“Where is he?” I asked Vazkor.
“Who?”
“The Javhovor, my husband. He was with me before Oparr came.”
“The Javhovor is gone, goddess; he need trouble you no more.”
I remembered many things as I stood in the doorway. I remembered that never once had Vazkor spoken of him as if he were dead. I remembered Vazkor’s story that I had been sick because Asren had tried to poison me-a story I did not believe even then. I remembered the underground room with its draperies and littered floor, and, at the center, gold and precious stuff-the fantastic tomb-case-the empty tombcase. I remembered the Council at Za where the dead man who had been Eshkorek’s High-Lord screeched at me, “Vazkor’s witch-whore!” And the words took on a new meaning, for he must have known what had been sent to rot in his tower fortress-his propitiatory gift to the usurper. I remembered the lost word in the jeweled book of beasts. I remembered-
“Goddess,” Mazlek said.
“Yes,” I said, “yes. I know.”
I stared into the cell again. The creature which had been Asren had uncurled itself, and lay with its back to us on the sacks. My whole body was one throbbing wound of pity, and of disgust-I could not help it, I could not help it.
“Mazlek,” I whispered, “what now? We cannot leave him here-”
“No, goddess. But he-is like a child. And afraid. If I take him by force he’ll scream, wake the Warden’s guards and Vazkor’s jackals.”
“Like a child,” I said.
I dreamed I was with Asren, a strange dream, for, though I knew it to be him, he seemed little more than a child. . . .
He had turned now, was facing me. The vacant black-blue eyes followed the swinging movement of the yellow silks hanging over my hair. I took Mazlek’s knife and cut one of the strings. I shuddered as I entered the stinking room, but thrust my revulsion down. It was so unimportant. If I had loved, then I must love still… I held out the yellow silk, the amber
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marigold shimmering at its end. He gazed at it, and did not flinch from me when I kneeled down beside him. One hand reached up, patted at the shiny toy. There was a little spark of interest in the wide-open eyes. I put it into his hand.
“Come, Asren,” I said softly. I stroked the matted filthy hair from his face, and took his free hand. He let me draw him to his feet. At the door Mazlek took his other arm.
“Come, my lord,” he said.
I could not see him weeping because of the mask, but the tears were falling under it across his breast in dark streaks.
We left the dungeon, went through the cellars, and up the endless stairs to my chamber. Asren did not make a sound; fascinated by the piece of amber, he did not seem to notice anything else.