From out of nowhere, a hand gripped the spymaster by the side of the head and slammed his skull against the wall. Then a second time and a third until Joshua crumpled to the floor unconscious.
Erik grinned at Hannah. “Guess he was wrong about that.”
She ran to him, sobbing.
“It’s OK, kid. You’re safe now.” Erik patted her on the back until she calmed down. “Besides, I should be the one thanking you. I’ve been dying to take a swing at that joker ever since his goons shot me.”
Hannah laughed in spite of herself. “It’s a good thing he left the door unlocked.”
The paladin shook his head in bafflement. “How many people in this place want to kill you? Seriously, you’d stand less chance of getting attacked if you ran through airport security wearing a sign that says, ‘I’m a suicide bomber. Catch me if you can.’”
“As long as you’re next door, I guess I’m safe enough.”
Erik stepped away and studied the girl’s throat. “Those red marks on your neck are beauties. They should bruise up nicely.”
“What’s nice about that?” She rubbed the marks tentatively.
Erik turned to regard Joshua. “He could weasel out of this by saying he never laid a hand on you. Those bruises are proof that he did.”
“But now he has proof that I can speak too.” Hannah pointed dolefully to the recorder sitting on the dresser.
“Really?” Erik went over and examined the device. Then he threw it on the floor and crushed it under his heel. Turning innocently to the girl, he said, “I don’t see any recorder. Do you?”
She gave a relieved smile.
Erik picked up the pieces of plastic and slipped them into his pocket. “I’ll go back to my room and sound the alarm but first...” He paused to survey the situation. “We have to set the scene.”
Hannah tilted her head quizzically.
“For starters, I want you to rake your nails across his cheek as hard as you can. Make sure you dig deep enough to draw blood.”
“That’s horrible!” The girl’s confusion intensified. “Why on earth should I do that?”
“Your bruises prove you were attacked. The scratches will prove he was the attacker.”
“Isn’t being found unconscious in my room proof enough?”
“Consider it a few extra nails in the coffin-lid.” He grinned. “Pun intended.”
“Pun?” Hannah’s eyes widened in alarm. “There was a pun in that sentence?”
“Oh, right, I forgot. Zach told me you were humor-impaired.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say!” the girl flared with irritation. “He knows I’ve worked really, really hard on my humor skills.”
“Um, I don’t think humor is something a person is supposed to ‘work at.’” Erik made air quotes around the last two words.
Hannah barely heard him. “And now I have to master puns too?”
“It’s not like there’s gonna be a pop quiz,” the paladin countered. “Besides, right now we’ve got bigger fish to fry.”
“I know that one,” she responded anxiously. “That’s a metaphor, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” the paladin replied cautiously, eyeing Joshua. “The metaphor knocked out cold on the floor waiting to have his face clawed.”
“I’ll do it, but this is awful.” Hannah knelt down beside the spymaster. She winced and then dragged her nails across his cheek. He emitted a reflexive grunt of pain.
Erik strode over to the nightstand and slid out the top drawer, shaking its contents on the floor. He handed it to the girl. “If he wakes up before help arrives, clock him with this.”
Hannah stood up and hefted the empty drawer by its metal handle. “That won’t be a problem. I’ve had some practice.”
“Wait a second.” Erik studied Joshua’s posture. “I slammed him on the left side of the head. We need to drag him away from the wall, or the angle of your swing won’t be convincing.”
Together they pulled the spymaster toward the center of the room and posed him in a slumped seated position. He was still unconscious.
Erik then took Hannah by the shoulders and positioned her over the body and slightly to the right. “There, that should do it. Just stay like that until help arrives. Oh, and, try to look like a damsel in distress.”
“I won’t have to try,” the girl retorted.
Erik slipped out of the room. Once he got back inside his own quarters, Hannah could hear his distraught voice on the phone summoning help.
***
Five minutes later, three people burst into Hannah’s room. This time Sister Ruth was accompanied by two sentries.
Joshua was just coming out of his stupor. “Wha...” His head lolled from side to side.
“God help us,” one of the sentries uttered. “It’s Brother Joshua.” The two men hauled him to his feet.
Hannah attempted to summon up a few tears. It wasn’t hard considering how shaken she felt. Dropping the nightstand drawer, she pulled down her collar and pointed toward her neck.
Sister Ruth easily interpreted what happened. “He tried to choke you!” she exclaimed in disbelief. “You poor lamb!” She scurried over to wrap a protective arm around Hannah.
The girl nodded solemnly and then made a scratching motion with her fingers.
“And you defended yourself the best way you could.” Sister Ruth eyed the gashes on Joshua’s cheek and then noted the blood under Hannah’s fingernails.
The sentries did likewise and tightened their grip on the diviner’s son.
Hannah pantomimed picking up the drawer and swinging it against Joshua’s head.
Her audience nodded with comprehension.
Joshua’s eyes began to regain their focus. “What happened here?” he asked in a thick voice.
“You attacked the diviner’s wife, that’s what happened here,” Sister Ruth informed him. “It’s a disgrace. You know very well that a consecrated bride may only be beaten by her own husband. Jedediah Proctor said so himself.”
“What?” Joshua shook his head from side-to-side, apparently hoping to clear it.
The sentries pulled him toward the door.
“I am your leader,” Joshua protested indignantly. “You take your orders from me!”
The guards traded guilty looks but didn’t release their hold.
One of them replied. “Father Abraham is a higher authority where the welfare of his wife is concerned, sir. You can explain
