something in their eyes compelled him, or maybe it was just the sight of the dead shadar-kai. There was a flurry of wings and clumsy shuffling as the beasts, too long confined, tried to learn to walk again.
At the end of the row, in the largest cage, Ashok found the remaining Ikemmu captives.
He released the latch-the cage wasn’t even locked-and stepped inside. The low top forced him to stoop, but he could still stand on his feet. Ashok clutched his dagger reflexively against his chest.
There were five of them left, counting the man outside. The naked corpse of a woman near the cage door had been mutilated in much the same way as the man had been. Her fingernails were split and broken, or worn down to the bloody quick where she’d fought the straps.
At the back of the cage, the bodies of a man and woman had been propped up in a half-sitting position, their arms and necks tied with chains looped around the cage bars. They sat with legs splayed and wore sweat- stained tunics but no breeches.
Ashok crouched to examine them. There were no visible signs of mutilation, until he saw the dried bloodstains between their legs.
Overcome at last, he staggered away on his knees until his back hit the cage wall. The force knocked the breath from his lungs. Ashok put his head between his knees and breathed through his mouth. The smell clung to his clothes, his hair. He would never be rid of this vileness.
When he’d gotten his breathing under control, Ashok thought he heard another sound. He looked up and stifled a cry.
The man had his eyes open and was looking at Ashok.
Ashok couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d assumed they were all dead. How could any of them be alive in such a charnel house? They were so still that even the man, staring at him, looked like a corpse with a faint light in its eyes.
Another woman lay a few feet away on her side, her back to Ashok. He couldn’t tell if she breathed. She’d wrapped her arms around the cage bars and pulled herself as close to the wall as possible.
Swallowing, Ashok went over to the man and began working the chains at his neck. The man’s eyes tracked what Ashok was doing, but otherwise he remained completely motionless, with no expression on his face.
Ashok got the chain loose enough to slip over the man’s head. Without the tension to support it, the man’s head lolled forward. Ashok caught it, and gently pushed the man back to rest against the bars. Then he went to work on his hands.
When Ashok had finished, he went to free the woman. As he worked the chain at her neck, he listened for a heartbeat, for breath. He heard nothing. She was gone.
Ashok laid his dagger aside and supported her weight as the chains fell free. He laid her body down on one side like the other woman. He wanted to give her some semblance of dignity. As he did that he spoke to the man.
“Can you walk?” he asked. “We don’t have much time.”
Ashok reached back for his dagger, but it wasn’t where he’d left it. He looked up and saw the man holding the weapon in both hands. He was so weak he could barely raise the blade above chest level to brandish it. His hands trembled, but his expression remained detached. He might as well have been holding an apple for all he knew what to do with the weapon.
Ashok raised his hands. “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’m from Ikemmu.”
Nothing. Not a flicker of recognition.
“We were sent by Uwan-by Tempus-to rescue you,” Ashok said. “Do you remember Uwan?”
“U-wan.” The man’s lips came together clumsily to form the word. His voice was a shredded whisper. Ashok could see faint bruises on his throat where he’d been choked.
“That’s right,” Ashok said. “Uwan wouldn’t stop until he found you. I’ve come to bring you home.”
“Home,” said the man. He sighed and let the dagger rest in his lap, running his fingers over the hilt. “Tempus be praised.”
“We don’t have much time,” Ashok said. “If you can walk, I need you to check your companion,” he pointed to the other woman, “to see if she lives. I’ll be right outside.”
He was going to take the other body down and conceal it behind the trough so his companion wouldn’t have to see it. He headed for the door of the cage, but stopped when he heard a strangled gurgle.
Ashok spun around. Horror washed through him.
The man fell back against the cage bars, his body twitching. He’d stabbed himself in the chest with Ashok’s dagger. The hilt was held between his two hands, and an expression of utter peace suffused his features. His aim had been true. The life went out of the man’s eyes as the blade penetrated and stopped his heart.
At that moment, the door at the top of the stairs opened, and Skagi entered the room. Ashok barely registered the warrior’s presence. He was trapped in the cage, unable to look away from the dead man’s peaceful countenance.
“Tempus be merciful!” Skagi said. He saw Ashok in the cage and ran over to him. “What happened here?” he demanded in a raw voice.
Ashok couldn’t find the words. He just shook his head. He was looking to the other woman, but all the strength had gone out of his body. He didn’t want to look, was terrified to see any more of the brutal work of his enclave.
“Ashok? Ashok!” Skagi said, shaking his arm.
Ashok slowly came back to himself. “Where are the others?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Skagi said. “I killed the guard and came straight back. She had time to yell up and down the caves before I took her, so we can expect company soon.”
“Go find the others,” Ashok said. “Tell them … what you saw.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll be right behind you,” Ashok said. “We’ll have to clear a path out of here.”
Skagi nodded and backed out of the cage. Ashok could see the relief on his face when he left the torture chamber.
Steeling himself, Ashok went to the other woman. He reached out to touch her shoulder, and several things happened at once.
The crows flying around the room cawed loudly, and the woman rolled onto her back in one violent motion. Her hands clawed at Ashok’s face. She caught his cheek and raked with her blunt, ruined nails. Ashok felt the fire lines across his face and wet blood drip down his neck.
He hurled himself back, his hands up in defense, but the woman did not pursue him. Ashok retreated against the opposite wall of the cage and stayed there.
Facing him on her side, the woman brought her knees up against her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. The bones of her skeleton shone clearly through her taut flesh. Ashok couldn’t imagine when she’d last been fed. Blood-matted hair fell in uneven chunks across her face. She put her head down, as if trying to make her body as small as possible.
Ashok tried to get a look at her eyes, but he couldn’t see through the curtain of her hair. Staying crouched he came toward her a step and stopped to gauge her reaction. She didn’t move, only curled tighter into her protective ball.
“Ilvani?” Ashok said, with a knowledge he didn’t at first comprehend. Then he saw it, in the shape of her face, an echo of Natan’s countenance. Ilvani had survived, despite all the horrors she’d experienced.
She had survived. And if it killed him, Ashok would see her returned to Ikemmu.
Ashok pulled the mask down so Ilvani could see his face. He reached up and fumbled with the catch of his cloak. He pulled the garment off and took another crouching step forward. He spread the cloak out on the ground between them like a buffer, then he backed away until he was against the opposite bars again.
He waited, his hands between his knees, to see what she would do.
He could feel time slipping away, precious breaths they needed to get out of the caves before the enclave realized what was happening and sealed off all the escape routes, before they ran them all down and hung them from the straps over the slaughter trough.
His breath tight in his chest, Ashok forced himself to wait, patiently, to make no reaction when she stretched out one hand, scraping it across the floor until she could grasp a corner of the cloak with her fingers.
She pulled the garment toward herself, threading it through her hands as if through the eye of a needle.
