'You're right,' replied Mika. 'Nor do I understand sacrificing a daughter to a demon.'
'It was the price of power,' the king said with a dismissive slice of his hand. 'And besides, she was a sharp- tongued wench who would not marry. There was no pleasing her no matter what I did. I grew tired of her constant demands. She was just like her mother. always at me for one thing or another. I was glad to give her to Iuz. It was the easiest part of the bargain. The hard part was playing the grieved father. Yes, tell me. I want to know. What happened to the wench? If still she lives and Iuz didn't get her, who did?'
'I did,' answered Mika, his heart gone cold inside his breast. 'Here she is,' he said, standing aside and gesturing with an outstretched hand toward the princess, whose growls emanated deep within her chest and issued between slavering lips.
The king gaped at the wolf and then stared at Mika. He turned his gaze back to the princess, who began to fling herself against the bars. Finally the king threw back his head and roared with laughter, great guffaws that echoed throughout the building, momentarily silencing all other sounds.
'You mean that… that wolf is my daughter, the Princess Julia, heir apparent to the throne of Dramidja?' asked the king. Tears filled his eyes as he clutched his sides and laughed till he collapsed against the bars, too weak to stand upright.
'How did you do it?' he asked at length.
'With the stone,' Mika replied stiffly, holding out the gem.
The king stiffened and got to his feet, his eyes cold and hard, all vestiges of humor vanished.
'The stone,' he said, thrusting his hand between the bars. 'It's mine, give it to me. There might be a chance that I could…' His words faded away, and his eyes grew crafty.
'Escape? Forget it,' Mika said harshly, willing to inflict as much pain as possible. 'You have no hope of getting out of here. Iuz was but a middleman. His boss caused you to be imprisoned and sent me here as well.'
'Maelfesh? Maelfesh!' whispered the king.
'Big guy with a kind of fiery personality,' said Mika. 'The kind of guy who stands out in a crowd.'
But the kind did not reply. Once again he buried his face in his hands and whispered, 'All is lost, all is lost.'
CHAPTER 25
There was nothing more to be gained from trying to speak with the king.
Mika stroked the princess's head, far more sympathetic to her than he had ever been. With a father like that, no wonder she turned out as she did. She did not even seem to notice the gesture. Mika left her to her growling to speak briefly to Tam, RedTail, and Margraf and then contemplate his own situation. In the face of the priest's overwhelming confidence and the king's fear, Mika's plan no longer seemed quite so brilliant.
He stood by the window all the rest of that long day, looking up at the sky and wishing that he were free. The sky was the soft, clear shade of winter, emp- ry except for a time when a few large and ungainly shapes flapped across his narrow bit of vision.
After he had stared at the strange forms for a long while without conscious awareness of them, their peculiar shapes penetrated his depression; he looked at them and wondered what they might be. They were certainly not songbirds-too big. Nor eagles nor hawks, still larger and far too bulky. They seemed to be flying in a direct line behind a lead bird or whatever it was. He wished with all his heart that they would just swoop down and take him away with them. A peculiar tingling whiteness filled his head, and he felt dizzy and faint.
He put his hand on the stone sill and steadied himself. After a heartbeat, the feeling passed. He pressed his face against the cool bars of the window just in time to see the last of the odd creatures cross the width of the tiny window and disappear from sight. He felt even more depressed once they were gone.
Prayers were called at midday and again at mid- afternoon, when still more unfortunates were dragged up the steep stairs to the top of the pyramid where, outlined against the angry red of the falling sun, they donated their lives to the demanding Exag.
Their terrified screams rang in Mika's ears long after the last call to prayer echoed through the city shortly after dark.
Mika had kept to himself, thinking throughout the long day. The king had withdrawn into a tight-lipped shell and had not even looked their way since morning. The princess had finally given up her vigil of hatred at the bars. She, along with Tam and RedTail, had paced and slept and now stared up at Mika as though expecting him to do something. Margraf watched him as well, though after his one outburst of tears he had not lost control of his emotions.
'The rusties,' said Mika, turning to Margraf. 'You say there are a lot of them. How many?'
'I dunno,' said Margraf. 'More than I can count. There's lots of 'еш. I can never figure out what keeps them alive. Father says that there are even bigger ones that live in the lower depths, some as big as buildings, but I think that's just a story made up to scare the little kids into behaving. I've never seen a big rusty, just the little ones that come foraging for metal. We hardly have any metal left, but there's always lots of them. I guess they must be pretty hun- gry'
'I certainly hope so,' Mika said fervently. 'I hope they're hungrier than ever before in their lives because I'm about to give them a banquet.'
Margraf stared at him as though he had lost his mind. Mika chuckled, opened his shoulder pouch, and took out his book of spells.
'It will take a combination of spells if it is to work,' Mika muttered, stroking his beard with his gauntlet- ed hand. Mika had enough trouble accomplishing only one spell and doing it right, much less two. He would need to use the gemstone for certain, but at this point it no longer mattered. The curse and even his demon fingers seemed but a trifle compared to his approaching death.
Hornsbuck had been calling to him all day, but Mika had not answered, racked with self doubt and weighted down by the responsibility he felt for all of the others. He smiled to himself grimly, thinking about the king. Surely this was what it was like to rule, holding the lives of others in your hands. He was determined to do a better job of it than the king had. As the darkness grew, somehow he knew he would succeed.
He moved to the doorway and pressed his face against the bars.
'Hornsbuck,' he cried in a hoarse whisper.
'Aye,' came the sullen reply.
'I think I've got it figured out,' Mika said. 'Everyone be ready to run for it. It will start around midnight. Be ready.'
'Mika! What are you going to do?' Hornsbuck whispered hoarsely. 'What's going to start around midnight?'
'Just trust me, all right?' said Mika. 'I'll do the best I can, and then it's every man for himself until we get to the wall. The plan is fire; grab torches and whatever else that will burn and pile it against the wall. We'll burn our way through the damned thing and leave this cursed city behind!'
A ragged cheer broke out. Mika sat down again and began reading words from his spell book, trying to commit them to memory, all the while wondering if the horses were quartered somewhere nearby or if he had lost his faithful roan forever. He also thought about the king and the demon, wondering what would happen, but he no longer really cared. If his plan worked, he would take his chances, and if it didn't, well, a man could only die once. He hoped.
Midnight came almost too soon for Mika, although none too soon for the restless wolves and the rest of the prisoners.
'He's starting!' piped Margraf as Mika faced toward what he assumed to be the center of the city and began to chant, his gauntleted hand wrapped around the gemstone, the other pointing down toward the heart of the labyrinths that underscored the city.
For what seemed a long time, a very long time, although in truth it was merely a matter of heartbeats, nothing happened. Mika did not cease in his incantation of the magical spell, repeating it over and over.
Then he heard it. At first it was no more than a soft, scuffling sound, the barest of murmurs, like the sea
