Lightnings Daughter (24 page)

The hil man said several incomprehensible words and pointed to the back of the cave, then he turned and disappeared into the darkness before anyone realized what he was doing.

"Wait!" Athlone yel ed, springing after him, but the man had already ducked down another crack and was gone.

"By Surgart's sword, I'm going to strangle that little rat if he left us lost down here," Athlone cursed.

He strode to the back of the chamber to the spot the hil man had indicated and found another slender fissure on the rock wal . Careful y he squeezed through. There was a long moment of silence before his voice came back to the others.

"Come this way."

Gabria and the others pushed through the narrow crack, came around some boulders, and found themselves in what seemed to be an enormous cavern. They could not see very much of the lightless space, for their feeble torchlight was swallowed by the towering blackness. A cold silence surrounded them. With great care they edged out across the floor. Only Piers remained frozen to his place, his eyes staring sadly into the dark.

Although she did not have a torch, Gabria walked forward a pace to see what she could discover.

Her shin abruptly slammed into a very sharp rock. "This is ridiculous," she snapped. Raising her hand, she cal ed out a command and a ball of bright light formed over her head.

Every man there jumped like a stung horse.

"Good gods, Gabria," Athlone yel ed. "Don't startle us like that!" The four Khulinin warriors stared at the light and at Gabria in mixed disbelief and alarm. She looked back at them apologetically. She regretted being so precipitous with her spell, but the frustration of near-blindness and the pain in her leg drove her to act without thinking of what anyone's reaction might be. They were not used to her sorcery, and the sudden bal of light had been a shock.

Bregan final y shook his grizzled head and tossed his torch to the ground. "Have you got any more of those lights, Lady Gabria?"

Her smile to him was dazzling, and in just a few moments four balls of light hung in the air over the men’s' heads. Their glow revealed the details of the entire cavern.

Their first impressions had been right; the cavern was huge. As they looked around, it became obvious that, while most of the cavern was natural, a great deal of human labor had been spent smoothing the floors and enlarging the walls. Some unnatural features had been added, too: cages, stocks, chains on the walls, a huge wheeled rack, a forge, and several other unidentifiable machines---all thankful y empty.

"Gods,'" Athlone shuddered. "It's a torture room."

Without warning, Piers gave a grief-stricken moan and ran forward. In the center of the cavern was a hole, and the healer stumbled to the very edge. He fell to his knees and leaned precariously over the rim.

"Oh, Diana," he groaned.

"Piers!" Gabria cried. She ran to him and tried to draw him away. The hole appalled her. It was a smooth-sided pit that fell away into a terrifying blackness. A faint, putrid odor rose from the unseen bottom.

"She's down there,” the healer said, his voice sinking in despair. "The Fon's executioner took great delight in telling me. Diana wouldn't confess to poisoning the old Fon---even when they tortured her.

They condemned her anyway and threw her down there. My poor Diana." He leaned against Gabria, covered his face with his hands, and wept. "All these years,” Piers cried. "All these years. I never truly believed she was dead . . . until I saw this pit."

Gabria finally understood. So many things he had said and done fel into place: his flight from Pra Desh, his refusal to talk about his family or his past, his abiding sadness. She knew how he felt. For the healer, looking into the pit must have been like standing on top of a burial mound and saying goodbye to those buried there. She held onto her friend and let him cry.

"There's nothing down there anymore," she said softly. "Diana is gone."

He wept until the worst of his grief had waned, then he was quiet for a very long time, his gaze lost in the depths of the pit. Gabria could hear the others moving around and searching the cavern for an exit, but she stayed with Piers while he faced the phantoms of his past.

When at last he wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood up, Gabria knew his grief was under control.

The slow, painful process of healing his old wounds had finally begun.

"Was this why you went back to Corin Treld?" he asked, offering her his hand.

She nodded, took his hand, and rose to her feet. "The dead must lie in peace."

"And so they will," Piers answered wearily. Then he added, "Now, let's seek the living. I would stil like to face the Fon."

"Do you know the way out?" she asked.

"Yes. I was here years ago as a healer, but I've never had to stay in this place of torment."

Piers led her around the pit and headed for a wall where a rack of tools and instruments hung. The others fol owed. He found the door latch, which was cleverly hidden in the stone, and pul ed the rack aside to reveal the door. They filed out, with Gabria's lights bobbing overhead, and found a staircase leading up to the next level. When the last warrior left the torture chamber, Piers looked once more into the black cavern and gently shut the door.

The party went upstairs to the prison level and paused to wait for Piers to take the lead. The travelers stared about them in horror. There were two corridors, one on either side of the stairs, lined with lightless stone cells. The wal s were wet with moisture, and the floors were ankle deep in muck and excrement. The smell was horrible.

The noise was even worse. The sight of the lights had excited the prisoners, and they screamed and cried and shouted behind their bars in a hideous cacophony of misery and fear.

Surprisingly, there were no guards.

Piers slowed as he came up the stairs, and his eyes widened. "I know some of those people,” he exclaimed. "They don't belong here!"

Secen started toward a door, but Athlone stopped him. "Not now. We don't have time."

They hurried on, leaving the dungeon and its tormented prisoners behind, and ran up to the next level. Khan’di's map did not include the deep underground levels of the palace, only the Fon's wing, where Branth was supposed to be. The party had to rely on Piers's eleven-year-old memories of the extensive storerooms, wine cellars, and cold storage rooms underneath the main floors.

The healer was surprised by how much he remembered. Released of his grief, his memories flowed out as clear and sharp as yesterday's hours. He was able to lead his companions up through the levels to a corridor just below the Fon's wing of the palace.

Khan'di had told them that, according to spies, Branth was being held in one of the Fon's personal storerooms. The healer took his companions through a large room full of vats and up a winding staircase. At the top, a solid oak door blocked their way. Piers reached for the door handle, but Treader began barking furiously and shoved himself between Piers and the door.

"Piers, be careful!" Gabria cried. "Treader says there's fire."

The healer looked skeptical, but he stood back from the stout oak door and very carefully opened it just a crack. A dark cloud of smoke billowed out, and the voracious roar of a fire out of control sounded clearly through the slight opening. Piers slammed the door shut.

"By the gods, what happened?" Athlone exclaimed.

Piers glanced around worriedly. "I don't know, but we'll have to go another way."

The travelers raced down the stairs and through the storage - room. From there they took a different corridor, one that led up the main stairs to the palace's banquet hal . There they stopped and gazed about them in frightened astonishment. A few torches were stil burning in the sconces on the walls of the ornate room, giving off enough light so the parry could see the expanse of the entire hall.

The banquet hal was in the central block of the palace along with the waiting rooms, the Fon's throne room, and audience chamber. To the north was the Fon's wing of private apartments, chambers, and servants' quarters. Already the fire from below was spreading through the first floor of that wing.

It was eating through the timbers and the north wal of the banquet hal . As it climbed to the floor of the second story, the blaze consumed everything in its path. Even as the travelers came to a stop and Gabria banished her lights, the banquet hal was filling with smoke. A muted roaring echoed through the room.

Palace guards, servants, and courtiers ran back and forth, carrying items out of the Fon's wing; some were running in panic, others screamed or yel ed orders. No one seemed to be doing anything to control the fire, and no one paid attention to the clanspeople in the hall.

"Lord!" Keth called. "Look at this." He was standing in a deep embrasure looking out a rare glassed window.

Athlone and the others joined him and crowded into the space. They fol owed Keth's gaze out to the high wall that encircled the palace. The Fon's guards were struggling to keep the mob from the massive wooden gate that blocked the entrance. But while the travelers watched the gate was forced open by a well-disciplined troop of men who pushed through and attacked the guards. A huge group of people flooded through the breached gate behind them. A roar of triumph rose outside, then the mob came to a stunned halt. A pale flash of lightning illuminated the hundreds of faces staring at the burning wing of the palace.

Thunder and a distant crash reverberated through the building. The smoke grew thicker.

Gabria turned back to the dim, smoky hal . A boy rushed by her carrying an armload of jeweled goblets. The sorceress coughed and stared through the open double doors into the Fon's wing, where the dancing red and yel ow glow of fire revealed more and more people fleeing with the Fon's valuables.

Athlone drew back from the window. "Where is the Fon in all of this madness?" he yelled above the noise.

"And where is Branth?" Gabria shouted.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Piers." Athlone grabbed the healer's arm. "What are the chances Branth could Still be alive if he is in those lower storerooms?"

The healer tore a strip off his shirt and tied it over his nose and mouth to filter out the thickening smoke. "None, Lord. The whole corridor was on fire."

"If the Fon had moved him, where would she have taken him?" Athlone had to shout over the noise of the people and the increasing roar of the fire.

"If there was time?" Piers lifted his hands. "He could be in her apartments or in the guardrooms of the other wing. He could be anywhere."

The chief thought fast. "Then we'l have to split up. Search what you can, then get out fast. If anyone finds Branth, either bring him or kil him. Everyone understand?" They nodded. "Piers, you know this place. Take Gabria and Keth. Look where you think he is the most likely to be. Bregan, you come with me. We'l go upstairs to the Fon's rooms. Secen, Valar, and Sayyed, you take Tam and the dog and check the other wing.”

They hurried into their groups and started to leave. Only a few of the fleeing palace inhabitants glanced their way before rushing on.

"Don't wait too long to get out,” Athlone shouted after the men. Gabria was about to follow Piers when the chieftain took her hand. He wanted to say something to her before they parted in the smoke and fire, but sensible words failed to come to mind.

Gabria looked into his face, still bruised, bearded, and smeared with mud and dirt. She pul ed off the strip of cloth tied over her nose and mouth and lightly kissed his cheek.

Then she ran after Piers and vanished into the smoke.

Athlone looked after her in surprise before a quirk of a smile touched his mouth. He gestured to Bregan and left the banquet hal to find the stairs leading up to the next floor.

As Athlone and Bregan disappeared in one direction, Piers led Gabria and Keth through a set of doors, down another dim corridor, and into the audience hal where the Fon usually held her large public festivals, court functions, and celebrations. A few lamps were lit in the room despite the late hour, and Gabria looked around in amazement at the rich furnishings.

The wal s of the vast room were covered with tapestries, colorful banners, and hangings of silk embroidered with the ship emblem of Pra Desh. Padded benches and chairs lined the wal s, and a huge fireplace dominated one end of the room. Gabria noticed the big room was empty and was already filling with smoke.

Piers came to the center of the room and slowed down to get his bearings.

Gabria grabbed his sleeve. "Where are we going?"

The healer continued to study their surroundings as he answered. "The Fon should know where Branth is. If we can find her, maybe . . .” He paused as another crash reverberated through the palace.

Screams echoed down the corridor. "Floor gave way,” he muttered. He glanced at the stone wal s. "It won't be long before enough floors collapse to bring down all the walls."

"Then let's hurry,” Keth suggested nervously.

"Do you know where she might be?" Gabria asked.

Piers curled his lip. "If I know that woman, she's in the vaults trying to save the treasury." He hurried his companions out of the audience hal and into the first of the Fon's two waiting rooms. These rooms, where supplicants waited for personal interviews with the Fon in her throne room, were even more luxurious than the hal . They were filled with precious rugs, wallcases of delicate porcelain, handsomely carved furniture, and shelves of valuable books.

This room was empty' of people, so Piers walked through to the next. That room was much like the first. Here, her personal secretaries usually screened the people who would be al owed in the Fon's presence. At that moment, the only people in the room were two noblemen and one palace guard. The courtiers were older men in various stages of night dress, and they were shouting and frantically pounding on an arched wooden door. The guard was beside them, trying to hack at the door handle and frame with the point of his sword. .

Piers came to a quick halt and cursed under his breath. The men had obviously been there for some time, because the door handle was splintered from the guard's blows.