you see, my ‘honor’ is but trash to be thrown over the cliff.”
“What would you give up to be free?” the grizane asked again.
Either the gray one was mad, or he had some purpose behind his probing. And there were strange stories told—one might give up more than life or goods. Ilbran answered cautiously. “As I have said, I have nothing to give. All that I own is forfeit to the king, but, all that waits for me here is a dance in Traitorsquare.”
The visions of torture of death overcame him. The cold eyes of the questioner. The soldiers that looked on. Laughter somewhere outside his range of vision. The smell of pitch in the hot sun. Scarcely knowing what he was doing, he stammered, “Truly, I would give up anything I had or would have, as long as it did not involve another. With no regrets. None at all.”
Then he watched in hope and terror, scarcely realizing that he had backed away to the full length of his chain, as the grizane felt his way along the wall toward him.
Cold bony fingertips closed around his wrist, as if to feel his pulse. They felt their way up his arm and shoulder, felt their way across his face. He would have flinched away but his shackles held him tight; he could retreat no further.
“Close your eyes—if you would be free,” the grizane said. “And do not open them until I give you leave.”
Ilbran obeyed, fear and hope mixing in him till he could not tell them apart. The grizane chanted low in some strange tongue that seemed to Ilbran as if he could understand it, if it were but louder. The blood roared in his ears like the ebb and flow of the tide. He was keenly aware of the various reeks of his cell, the smell of blood, sweat, filth, mixed with the damp mustiness of an underground dwelling.
He kept his eyelids tightly closed. The grizane’s fingertips pressed painfully firm against his cheekbones and eyebrows, digging in as though they would mold his skull to another shape.
The chanting was but a distant murmur in his ears. He and his father and mother had paid for shelter in these very cells one summer, or was his memory playing tricks with him? It must have been when he was very young—he could remember how tall the stairs had seemed, when he climbed up into the cool night, to run and play after the hot agonizing day had ended.
Suddenly, red pain tore at his eyes, knives, claws, agony as terrible as the worst that Nahil’s men had done with club or fire. He tried to scream, but he was mute. His muscles were paralyzed, like some icy nightmare. His eyelids were sealed shut.
Then the agony was gone. The pressure left his brows and cheekbones. The grizane spoke hurriedly. “I am sorry. I did not mean to give you the pain as well.”
As well as what? He did not understand what was happening. The pressure left his brows and cheekbones. The grizane’s hands closed around his wrists. “Open your eyes. You will be free soon.” Ilbran opened his eyes and saw—nothing. Tarry black, a starless night, no dungeon could be so dark. He gasped and tried to scream. Again no sound came from his mouth.
Cold hands tightened like manacles around his wrists. The grizane’s voice was sharp, piercing through the mad terror. “Have you forgotten your vows so soon? You said you would give up anything to be free.”
Ilbran fought to control himself, taking slow and deep breaths. “They spoke true,” the grizane said more gently. “Without sight I can work no magic … and sight must come from someone.” Ilbran’s wrists were free of the grizane’s grip. A cold touch, and the ankle rings clicked open. He heard the grizane step briskly across the cell. A lock snapped open in the corner where Giter lay, then the lock on the cell door rattled.
“Come with me,” the grizane said. Ilbran stayed slumped against the wall.
“Come here, you dolt. I have put a spell of sleep on these rooms, but it will not hold against many, if they should try to enter. Remember your vows. You must come with me. I may need to use you again.”
Ilbran opened and closed his eyes, still unbelieving. What more can you take from me? But he stumbled forward and clutched the grizane’s sleeve, following him down the long corridors as he opened locked cell doors and unfastened