I had no time to make any decision about what to do, though. I suddenly heard the sound of footsteps approaching from the direction of the stairway. Whoever the newcomer was, he was walking with a firm, confident stride, and walking in my direction. I thought how strange it was that all the jailers were in the mood for wandering the corridors today. For had always taught me to be afraid of people who strolled blithely through places where you ought to tiptoe and avoid attracting any unnecessary attention. If he was so noisy, it meant he wasn’t afraid. If he wasn’t afraid, it meant he could be dangerous. If he could be dangerous, he was someone I ought to avoid if I possibly could.
I had always tried to follow my old teacher’s wise advice, which was why I was still alive and well. I had no intention of doing anything different this time around.
I ducked into the cell with the open doorway. It already felt like home—the stench crept up into my nose, but this time I was able to adjust to it much more quickly than before. I stood where I could see the door of the female prisoners’ cell, and listened to the approaching steps.
The footfalls were only about five yards away from my sanctuary. Three … two …
The newcomer had a dark-lantern and although I could see an orange crescent in the dark, I couldn’t make out anything else around it. There was just the outline of a shadow in the darkness that had scarcely paled at all.
The newcomer stopped and the door gave a pitiful creak. I stared as hard as I could, but it was impossible to see anything in the pitch-black darkness. All I could do was keep my ears open.
The newcomer walked into the cell and I heard a chain jangle again.
“Hello.”
This time it was the second woman who spoke first.
“The most important thing is always to be polite, is that right, Lafresa?” the unexpected visitor asked in a mocking tone. The moment I heard that voice, I wished I was a thousand leagues away!
Darkness! A h’san’kor and a thousand demons! May they roast the soles of my feet on a frying pan! May I be caught red-handed every time for the rest of my life! Now I was really in trouble.
I recognized him. I had only heard his voice twice before, but both times I really wished I wasn’t there. It was the Master’s faithful servant, the one they called the Messenger.
“And what else do I have, apart from politeness?” The woman’s voice sounded bitter. “Or did you expect me to start begging you to spare my life?”
“Only the Master can spare your life,” the creature replied bleakly. “I am merely the Messenger who carries out his will. And as for not begging me … you will. If I want you to. You certainly will, Lafresa.”
The woman didn’t answer.
“Well, now,” the Messenger chuckled, without waiting for an answer. He sounded quite human now. “I see Blag is keeping you on nothing but water.”
“I’ll rip his heart out!” Leta hissed furiously.
“I don’t think that would do him any harm,” the Messenger chuckled. “You ought to know how to deal with Soulless Ones. It’s simpler to cut Blag’s head off than try to tear out a useless organ.… Although I can offer you some hope—you may soon be able to carry out your threat, my dear Leta. I’ve been thinking more and more often about making you into the same kind of Soulless One as old Blag. Our mutual friend needs an assistant … for various kinds of … pleasures.”
“You were always fond of foul jokes, slave!” the woman replied contemptuously.
Now I felt delighted that I hadn’t tried to save their lives. Anyone who talked with the Messenger on equal terms was no companion for me.
“And for all your short life you have been distinguished by tremendous conceit,” the Messenger parried mockingly. “You took too much upon yourself, my dear Leta, as did the lovely Lafresa here, and you have paid for it.”
“I have always been faithful and carried out all the Master’s orders!” Leta retorted furiously.
“Always? Come now, Leta! Don’t try to deceive an old friend. There’s only you, me, and Lafresa here; you can feel free to tell me how you managed to bungle such a simple task.”
“We did everything just as the Master ordered! For the good of—”
“Don’t give me any speeches about the good of the cause! Leave that for the priests and those tawdry peacocks who call themselves noblemen. Come on, tell me why your purple cloud didn’t work!” the Messenger barked. “Why does the Master still not have the Key?”
A purple cloud! Was the Master’s faithful dog talking about the shamanic storm? It certainly sounded as if he meant the abomination that had almost wiped out our group in Hargan’s Wasteland.
“I don’t understand how it happened,” the woman said in a tired voice. “You know I did everything carefully and correctly, just as I was told. The servants killed all of the Nameless One’s shamans—they were hunting the travelers, too—then we used the brew they had prepared and concealed the spell with a storm so that, darkness forbid, the Order would not get wind of anything, and we sent the magic off on the right wind. Everything was carefully calculated, and no one should have survived. Neither the elves nor the elfess had enough knowledge to oppose me. They couldn’t have destroyed the cloud!”
“But they did!” the Messenger retorted implacably.
“It wasn’t them,” Leta argued. “You can smell the shamanism of the dark elves and the Firstborn a league away, and there was nothing.”
“Don’t make excuses!” Lafresa exclaimed shrilly. “He’s nothing but a servant.”
“It wasn’t them,” the other woman insisted stubbornly, taking no notice of what Lafresa had said.
“Not them? Then who? In the name of the Font of Bloody Dew, tell me who!” the Messenger hissed.
“I don’t know. Someone powerful. And probably a magician, because we couldn’t sense anything. Someone you didn’t take into account.”
And his name was Valder. It was my acquaintance who had shattered the purple cloud into a million tiny shreds and saved our group.
“Stop lying! You’re walking a knife edge as it is. Everything was taken into account. Everything! Or do you expect me to believe that there’s a magician hiding among those ants? Player from Avendoom didn’t say anything about any powerful magician. Nobody from the Order went with the group, he made sure of that!”
“I don’t trust Player,” Leta muttered. “He’s a fox who could mess up our plans at any moment.”
“Immortality and knowledge make a magnificent incentive for loyalty.”
“If he’s so loyal to our cause, then why is the thief still alive?”
“The plans have changed.”
“That’s stupid!”
This woman would have done better to follow Lafresa’s example and say nothing, if she wanted to live a bit longer.
“Just a little more and I’ll rip your tongue out, girl! It’s not for you to discuss the will of the Master.”
“No threats, please, Messenger! I knew you in another life, servant of the Master, so save your eloquence for the sheep. You’ll find them much easier to frighten than me!”
“Oh, yes, they’re much more compliant than you are. But you’re no different from them. You’re just as mortal, although you can remember all your previous lives. But we’re not talking about the servants, we’re talking about you and your friend here. You made a mistake, you failed to justify the Master’s trust, and that’s why you’re here, waiting to pay the penalty.”
“Is that why you came? How low the one they now call the Messenger has fallen! Well, I’m ready to die,” Lafresa declared proudly.
“Have you any last words you would like to say?”
“No.”
Leta laughed hoarsely and hysterically: “Unlike you I can always return to the House of Love. But you, my dear J—”
The man suddenly started wheezing. Now that was something we’d seen before. When this character got upset, he liked to grab the nearest person within reach round the neck.
“Ne-ver,” he hissed quietly. “Do you hear me?
