Fall; or, Dodge in Hell - Neal Stephenson Page 0,341

not said a word either; so if she had “told” him anything, he had somehow worried it out of her mind without her willing it. Disgust followed by panic overwhelmed her good sense and she tried to wriggle away. But Elshield’s arm was like a band of wrought iron bent round her body, the saddle itself was an inescapable trap, and even if she had wriggled free it would have been the death of her, as she’d have been dashed against the hurtling road. I will know what you are, Primula, Elshield let her know, not what you claim to be.

And when she knew that he knew her true name, it broke her, and she fell into a reverie, remembering various things from her life in no clear order, and she knew that it was Elshield, inside of her, ransacking her mind in a way she was helpless to prevent. Which ought to have satisfied him as much as it disgusted her. But after it had gone on for a while she sensed that he was only becoming more frustrated the more he saw. He was rooting deep, trying to draw up her earliest memories. But he looked on those as false—as lies planted there by someone who had gone to great lengths to deceive her as to her true nature.

By Brindle.

A darkness like sleep had come over her so that she did not know where she was. Impressions seeped into her mind of a gate, city streets, docks, and boats. Memories being looted by Elshield? No, for she had not seen these places before. These were no memories. She was coming back to the here and now, for Elshield had turned his attention away from her and was issuing commands to Beedles. She was conscious of being draped over him like a damp rag. She sat forward, bracing herself on the rim of the saddle. Elshield, knowing that he had her, made no further effort to hold her close.

They rode out onto the top of the wall above the stone quay. By now the two military ships Prim had noticed earlier had completed their rendezvous and returned to within a bow-shot of Secondel’s waterfront. Beedles in uniforms were deploying along the rim of the quay, some carrying boathooks or coiling lines, but others armed with lances. The top of the wall was picketed with archers.

Elshield diverted the mount down a ramp that took them to the level of the quay; Sooth elected to look down upon the scene from atop the wall. Still dazed from what had happened during the ride, Prim was only vaguely conscious of many orders being given and a lot of boat-related activity as the vessel carrying the barbarian king drew near and swung about sideways and was coaxed toward the moorage.

She had never seen a king—barbarian or otherwise—before. Curiosity lifted her out of her stupor. Her gaze traveled up and down the length of the boat’s deck looking for a royal entourage in all its finery. But all she saw was a solitary man in scruffy traveling clothes, wrists and ankles hobbled with shackles. His hair and beard were matted, and his face masked, with dried blood. A noose had been thrown around his neck like a leash, and the end of the rope was held by the largest and grimmest Beedle she had yet seen.

Elshield swung down out of the saddle and saw to it that the mount’s reins were entrusted to a Beedle. He grunted out a command in the Beedle’s crude language, throwing a look up at Prim. Clearly the mount was going nowhere. Prim too dismounted.

A wooden gangplank had been dropped into place between the ship and the quay. The big Beedle crossed over it, the shackled man helplessly stumbling along in his wake.

Elshield took the end of the rope and looked at the prisoner. “Welcome, Your Royal Highness,” he said to the barbarian king.

The king said nothing, for he had recognized Prim. And she had recognized him.

It was Brindle.

She was a princess, apparently.

“You lied to me,” Prim said. “My whole life . . .”

“You must fight your way out now,” Brindle said.

“How are we to do any such thing? Look about you!”

“You must do it alone,” Brindle corrected her, raising his hands to show the chains. “You will find it within yourself,” he insisted. “Better sooner than later.”

“What is that supposed to mean!?”

“I lied to you because I love you,” Brindle said. And then, taking advantage of some slack