Emilie & the Hollow World - By Martha Wells Page 0,48
But I have no choice but to participate.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Trapped in the sack, Emilie fought in a panic, struggling furiously, until her lungs ached from lack of air. She sagged limply and tried to breathe through the rough material.
“She's out,” one of them said, his voice muffled by the blood pounding in her ears, and the other grunted an acknowledgment.
They thought she had fainted. That...isn't a bad idea, Emilie thought. She would rather like to faint and not experience this, but as a long term solution it was impractical at best. Solution, think of a solution. They hadn't strangled her or drowned her immediately, and they seemed to be taking her somewhere in a very purposeful way. She could try to question them about where they were going, or keep pretending to be unconscious. The pretend-unconsciousness seemed to offer the best chance of escape; if they put her down to rest, she might be able to wriggle away before they noticed. She admitted that that was probably not likely, but at least it gave her something to think about besides being strangled or drowned or shot.
They carried Emilie for some distance, hauling her like a sack of potatoes. She concentrated on breathing and trying to listen for any indication of where they were going. She heard water lapping and the occasional distant voices of merpeople. Sometimes the men spoke to each other: gruff instructions to turn right or left or go that way; it didn't tell her anything except that there were at least two of them. And she couldn't hear any hint that Miss Marlende was anywhere nearby. Though I bet they meant to capture her all along, Emilie realized suddenly. That's why Yesa came back and asked for us to come with the others to speak to the Queen. Someone had perhaps passed along a description of Miss Marlende, but what was obvious to another Menaen wasn't obvious to Yesa, and she had asked for both of them as the only two women in view.
Sometimes they walked outside and sometimes through buildings; she could tell by the light working its way through the sackcloth and the feel of the sun on her legs. It seemed to take a long time, but the sack was hot and her arms ached from where the men had grabbed her, and she suspected discomfort was making the trip seem much longer.
Finally they went into a cool shadow that meant they were inside a building, and started to go upstairs, up a lot of stairs. Emilie tensed, her heart pounding again, knowing they must be nearly at their destination. Whatever that was. Maybe she would find herself facing Lord Ivers himself. An evil nobleman, she thought. It was just like something out of one of her favorite adventure novels. Only very real, very uncomfortable, and very frightening.
The men reached a landing and started down a corridor. Ahead she heard keys rattle and what sounded like a heavy metal door creak open. There was some shuffling around, a gruff voice said, “Don't move, or I'll blow your head off.”
Emilie caught her breath, wondering if he was talking to her. Then she was dumped on a cool stone floor. She lay like an unstrung puppet, keeping her breathing even, listening to footsteps walk away, and the metal door shutting. They hadn't deposited a second person, so Miss Marlende wasn't with her. She waited a moment, and then was glad she had; there was something else alive in the room. She could hear breathing, a scrape against the floor as something moved.
“You can get up now, I know you're awake. Though don't misunderstand me; it's very convincing.”
The voice had a thick accent Emilie thought she recognized. She dragged the sack off her head, taking a deep breath of the cool damp air. She was in a small bare stone room, light coming in from a little round window high in the wall. The only furnishing was a couple of wooden buckets, and a blanket. The door was made out of silver metal, showing streaks of rust in the damp. She sat up, twisting around to stare at the other person.
He - she - sat back in the corner, watching Emilie with a quizzical smile. It was a Cirathi.
Her face was fuller than Kenar's, though it was coated with the same tiny black scales instead of soft skin. Her dark eyes were wide-set under brows of feathery fur, her lips full. Her dark hair was braided with strings