The form that stumbled out wore the peasant's brown tunic, but it was not human. The creature's skin was dusky green; its limbs were twisted and knotted with muscle. The thing's bloated head seemed too large for its body, and most of it was taken up by a maw filled with needle-sharp teeth. The newly created monster's eyes glowed dull red.
The goblyn groveled at Caidin's boots. 'Master!' it hissed fawningly. 'How can I serve you?'
'Go find the others like you, vermin,' Caidin crooned. 'Soon, I will tell you all what you must do.' Bobbing its bloated head, the goblyn scurried from the chamber.
Caidin allowed himself a low chuckle. It was always diverting to create goblyns, and the mindless creatures usually proved useful as well. Caidin had a particular purpose in mind for these latest creations. Now that he was without a lord inquisitor, he would have to devise imaginative ways to detain the Lady Jadis in her investigations.
The revelation of Sirraun's betrayal had disturbed Caidin more than he cared to admit. He had begun the false inquisition simply as a way to collect lives for the Soulstone. Now he wondered if perhaps he should conduct a true inquisition throughout his fief- dom. Twice now he had caught men whose loyalty he had not questioned murdering people in his court. Perhaps there was genuine treachery afoot in Nartok. What was more, the game of cat and mouse he was playing with the Kargat was beginning truly to annoy him.
'If only I could simply murder Jadis and be done with it,' Caidin whispered savagely. Though the thought was tempting, he knew he dared not try anything so overt.
Caidin worked late into the night, using the sarcophagus to transform a half dozen more fearful peasants into slavering goblyns. When that was done, he felt a little better, but not much. Pock could not help observing the baron's glum sigh.
'What's wrong, Your Grace?' Pock asked querulously. 'Usually creating goblyns puts you in a cheerful mood.'
'I don't understand it, Pock,' Caidin grumbled. 'How could Mika resist me a second time?'
No woman had ever scorned Caidin once, let alone twice. More humiliating yet, he had been, forced to stoop to an elaborate ruse to lure her to the keep in the first place. It was he who had placed the skull beetle-a gift from the darkling-in the manservant's chamber. Goodwill had been the furthest thing from his mind when he sent the carriage to the village to fetch Mika. Despite all his efforts to seduce the healer, still she had resisted him. Even more disturbing, he had learned that she had somehow met and befriended Wort. If the Old Baron's secret was ever revealed and Wort's existence made known, Caidin would be ruined.
'I still don't see why you're so determined to seduce the good doctor, Your Grace.' Pock threaded his arms through a pair of iron rings bolted to the wall. He hung lazily between them, small pointed shoes kicking. 'You could have any noble lady in the keep-or nobleman, for that matter-without having to go to all the bother of corrupting them. They've already all been corrupted for you. Wouldn't that be tor simpler?'
'You just answered your own question, Pock.'
'Idid?' Pock's bald purple head wrinkled in confusion. 'I must be even smarter than I thought.'
'You said it yourself, Pock. The 'good' doctor.' Caidin stroked his smooth black beard. 'That's exactly what Mika is-kind, ingenuous, and so very innocent. That makes her all the more tempting.'
'What if she resists you again, Your Grace?'
'I won't allow her to. She will submit, Pock.' Caidin clenched a Fist. 'In the end, no one can resist me.'
'Actually, I can, Your Grace,' the gnome chirped. 'You see, I have a fondness for purple complexions, and your face is only purple when you're mad. Er, just like it is now.' Pock swallowed hard. 'Come to think of it, purple doesn't really suit you, Your Grace.'
'Is that so?' Caidin growled dangerously.
'No offense intended, Your Grace!' Pock gulped.
'Oh, none taken, Pock.' Caidin's voice was as hard and sharp as cut glass. 'Believe me.'
Thunder rolled ominously across the leaden sky as Jadis pushed through the rusting iron gate and stepped into the graveyard. Stinging nettles scratched at her ankles. Dry witchgrass rattled in the wind. Everywhere tombstones lurched at odd angles, some cracked and fallen over, others sunk deeply into the damp earth. Here the folk of Nartok buried their dead-and here they forgot them.
The gnome Caidin had sent to spy on her was proving to be a nuisance, but Jadis had managed to lead Pock astray with a false trail. No doubt the little cretin was even now huddled inside a festering heap of refuse as was his wont, keeping watch on the alley in the village where she had led him to believe she was to meet with a secret messenger. Meanwhile, she had things to investigate here.
In the dungeon, she had confirmed her suspicion that Caidin's inquisition was simply a false front. Whatever his ulterior motive, it had something to do with the prisoners in the inquisition chamber-prisoners who, though dead, somehow retained a supernatural sentience. She had come to the cemetery hoping for more clues. jadis continued on, moving with catlike grace even though she was jn human form. She reached a place where the graves were fresh. Nearby were several empty ones, yawning like dark maws, waiting for their occupants. Jadis doubted they would have to wait for long. Clutching a dark shawl around her shoulders against the chill wind, she went from grave to grave examining them. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but she did get the sense that Nartok employed two different gravediggers-one much more conscientious about his job than the other. Some of the graves were covered with neat mounds of damp earth, while others looked to have been filled in with careless shovelfuls of loose dirt.
'Wait a moment, love,' Jadis whispered. Quickly, she bent down to read the epitaphs scratched into the wooden markers. A thrill coursed through her.
'Now, isn't that interesting…'
There was a curious distinction between the epitaphs of the two types of graves. All of the neatly packed graves belonged to people who had died recently of mundane causes-a man who was kicked by a horse, an old woman who had long been ill, a husband stabbed by a jealous wife. The denizens of the graves covered with the oddly churned earth all shared a common fate. Each had been found guilty of treachery by the inquisition and had been executed.
Jadis tapped a cheek thoughtfully. What if there weren't two gravediggers after all? What if the graves had been neatly filled at first, but those belonging to the victims of Caidin's inquisition had been subsequently unearthed? But why?
Jadis's green-gold eyes flashed. Perhaps it wasn't that somebody had dug up the graves. Perhaps the corpses themselves had risen from their resting places. After all, she had seen the way the dead man had twitched in the inquisition chamber.
The first cold, heavy drops of jrain began to splatter against the dirt of the freshly dug graves. Jadis decided to return to the keep to contemplate what she had learned. Shivering, she turned to make her way back to the gate. Suddenly the earth gave way beneath her. She had stepped too close to an open grave! Jadis threw her arms out, flailing to keep her balance, but with a cry she fell into the dark pit.
Jadis landed hard, the wind rushing out of her in a grunt of pain. Dirt rained down from above. Struggling, she tried to gain her feet, but she had become tangled in her shawl and soft gray dress. More earth tumbled down on her. The walls of the pit were collapsing, burying her alive. Pawing savagely at the damp earth, Jadis managed to gain her footing. She tried to scramble up the wall of the pit, but something tugged at her ankle, holding her back. She looked down, sick fear washing through her. A pale, waxy hand was looped around her ankle, pulling her down. Her hands scrabbled uselessly against the crumbling earth. The wall gave way and she fell. She screamed, but dirt filled her mouth, muffling the sound.
Gradually, the falling earth dwindled, then stopped. Everything went still. After a frozen moment, Jadis realized that she could move. She sat up, the loose dirt running off her in rivulets. In dread, she looked at the cadaverous hand that gripped her ankle. After a shocked moment slightly manic laughter rippled through her.
'Now, that's not like you, love,' she whispered, 'to let your imagination get the better of you.'
For it was not a hand that clutched her ankle, but simply a tree root sticking up from the bottom of the grave. Jadis extricated her ankle from the root. Then, carefully, she pulled herself out of the pit. Lightning tore a rent in the sky, releasing at last the violent fury of the storm. Breathing a relieved sigh, Jadis hurried from the cemetery, leaving the empty grave for someone who needed it more than she.
