The Prodigal Troll Part 27

"Why does it happen?" Maggot asked.

"Some years are like that. Others, the fields overflow with gold. You have to take the bad with the good."

The sun glowed weakly through the clouds the next morning, one coal surviving a doused fire. It seemed like it might flicker out at any moment.

A cold drizzle began to fall as they continued on their way and the coal of the sun expired behind the gray clouds. At times the drizzle turned to sleet. Maggot spied houses and farms in the hollows below the trail. Once they spied a bald, old man with stooped shoulders moving through an orchard, wrapping the bases of the trees, but aside from that, nothing stirred across the landscape all day but the two of them.

So Maggot, rapt in his stride across the slick, rock-strewn path, was not prepared when they came to the top of a hill and the city spread out below them through the dismal, gray haze. But then nothing in his experience could have prepared him for the size of it. A great stone bridge arched over a broad and turbulent river. A stone wall enclosed the length of the far sh.o.r.e, and beyond it a ma.s.sive edifice rose whose top was round and smooth like a gourd, but glossed gold like the back of a giant beetle. Another building bulked behind that, surrounded by a round lake of water as dark as the sky. Jumbled around these two structures were other buildings, stretching as far as Maggot could see, upstream and down, too many to count. They were grouped around narrow paths like islands in a marsh, their browns and reds and tans all dulled by damp.

On this side of the river, partially obscured by the hills, Maggot saw fewer buildings. They were set back on higher ground much farther from the river's unwalled bank. One large building without a roof rose above the others, surrounded by a spider's web of wooden frames that bent and swayed in the wind. The few people that he saw moving were as small as ants in an anthill.

Maggot forgot to breathe until he said very quietly, "I had no idea there were so many people in all the world."

"Only fifteen thousand or so here," Bran said. "Maybe forty thousand in the province. It's grown quickly in the last decade, with the Baron's reputation and the Baroness's prosperity. A disastrous crop this year will set things back."

"Is this the Imperial City?" Maggot asked, recalling Bran's descriptions of the great city.

Bran laughed at him. "Not hardly. I've been there, to take my oath as a knight in the Empress's service. This is to the Imperial City what Damaqua's village is to this."

That village seemed a small and paltry thing to Maggot now, and he'd thought it huge. "A range of mountains, as to a single mountain, as to a hill."

"Yes," said Bran. "There's no one place you can stand to see the whole Imperial City, at least approaching it as I did from the east. The Baron has modeled this city on the Imperial City; m'lady Sebius more so as she builds the new official structures and her personal palace on this near bank."

Maggot squinted into the rain, drops running down his cheeks and dripping from his forehead. Lightning flickered, rippling through the clouds. Thunder clapped and chased it across the sky.

"Come," Bran said. "Let's go see the city at hand's length and find a decent roof."

He took them along a narrow, twisting path that descended quickly through steep walls on either side, making abrupt turns. The sky, dark all day, grew darker by the second, and the wind kicked up again, whistling in the pa.s.sages around them. Bran picked up his pace until they were nearly jogging forward.

They rounded a sheer-faced hillside into the midst of a copse of trees and found themselves surrounded by a dozen startled soldiers who nevertheless had the wits to raise a hedge of spears around them. Bran reached out his hand, telling Maggot to stay calm.

"Two G.o.ds, I don't believe it," one man said.

A tall, lean boy, with soft brown skin and hair as black and thick as Maggot's, strutted outside the circle of spears-the boy that Maggot remembered from the hunt, the one who'd thrown the spear. "See!" he said, grinning. "The peasants do know this way into-wait!" He folded his hands behind his back. "Why this is the estimable Bran, come back from the dead."

Bran bent his head. "It is good to see you again also, Acrysy, m'lord."

"Did I give you permission to speak?"

Bran opened his mouth to answer, then slowly closed it.

"Of course, a traitor never asks permission," Acrysy said, swaggering over to Bran. "And here we have proof of your treason, sneaking back into the city with a peasant warrior."

Maggot's nostrils flared.

Acrysy paused in front of Maggot, his eyes widening. He stepped back, gripped the shaft of a spear, and jerked it toward Maggot's throat. "And this is the murderer who visited our hunting camp! This is the murderer who a.s.saulted m'lady Eleuate, my bride-to-be! So the two of you were working together, even then. Now you reveal yourself truly, Bran, sneaking into the city to do murder again. This is even greater proof. Who did you come to murder this time? My mother? M'lady Sebius? Did you come to kill me this time?"

"I came to kill no-"

His hand shot out and slapped Bran's face. "Quiet! Traitors may not speak!" His breath came very quickly. He slapped Bran again.

Only Bran's lack of reaction prevented Maggot from striking back, despite the ring of spears.

"It is good you cut off your braid," Acrysy said. "It saves me the trouble of having it done. A base-born shepherd's son like you should never have been a knight."

One of the men lifted his knife to cut off Maggot's braid, and Maggot spun on him.

Acrysy let go of the spear shaft and jumped back. "Wait! Wait until we display them in public. I warned Sebius that an attack might come from this direction. Now she'll have to listen to me. Bind them!"

Maggot looked at Bran, puzzled. Bran thrust his hands out in front of him. A guard stepped forward and started wrapping them with rope. Overhead, lightning split the sky. The rain, only briefly in abeyance, resumed its slow fall.

"That's a nice knot there, Romy," Bran said. "Who taught you how to tie knots like that?"

"Enough of that," the guard said. He tied off the knot and flicked his eyes nervously toward Maggot. "Tell your friend to stick his hands out too."

"Hurry up," Acrysy said. He had a small, mushroom-shaped tent that he raised above his head to keep off the rain.

"Be careful-he won't like it, Romy," Bran said quietly. He looked over to Maggot. "Just stick out your hands. It'll be fine. Sebius will set things aright."

His half-smile and voice both gave away the lie. Or at least his uncertainty.

Maggot stuck out his hands, knotted into fists. When Romy stepped up to wrap the rope around them, Maggot rammed his fists into Romy's chin. As Romy flipped backward, Maggot ran.

He dodged the first b.u.t.t-end of a spear, but the second slammed into the side of his head, and the next swept his feet out from under him. After that he lost track, curling up in a ball, with his elbows in front of his face while spear-b.u.t.ts and boots fell upon his ribs and back and head like hailstones. Someone tied his hands together between the kicks, and Maggot did his best to keep his wrists flexed, bent out, against the pressure of the ropes. Someone twisted the rope, so that the fibers bit into his skin, yanking Maggot to his feet. They took his knife and sword. Rain and wind lashed at them. Romy reached out to take the sack strung around Maggot's neck.

"I wouldn't do that," Bran said. "And I did warn you he wouldn't like being tied."

"Why not?" Romy said.

"It holds his father's foreskin. The lining of the bag is made from his grandfather's s.c.r.o.t.u.m."

Romy's hand twitched back. "G.o.ds of war and justice. Does that really do-"

"What did he say?" Acrysy shouted above the storm.

His words were cut off by two ferocious bolts of lightning, striking so close that the thunder sounded at once, shaking the air around them. The clouds ruptured, spilling a deluge so thick it was hard to see through.

"Forget it! Let's go!" Romy shouted.

The soldiers, heads down against the storm, prodded Bran and Maggot with their spears. The sharp tips did not annoy Maggot as much as the restraints, and the cold rain rolling off his skin did nothing to steal away the heat of his temper.

aggot's feet dragged in the mud as the soldiers shoved them down to the building covered by the spider's web of scaffolding.

"Put them in the cells," Acrysy said at the stone arch of the entrance. The rain drummed its fingertips on the toadstool that covered his head.

"We can't," Romy replied. "We still haven't repaired the damage the earthquake did to that wing."

"Earthquake?" Bran asked.

A shaft swung out and struck the side of his head. As he staggered, Maggot growled and lurched toward the guard who'd hit his friend. Several hands grabbed him, fists pounding his stomach and kidneys. The scaffolding began to sway in the wind, its upper frame knocking at the stone wall.

"Use one of the locked storerooms then," Acrysy shouted. He pa.s.sed under the arch and disappeared into a doorway.

The soldiers grabbed Bran and Maggot roughly by their arms, dragging them through the slop into a small yard with walls on three sides. They entered a stone corridor lit by greasy torchlight. The air smelled of smoke, and people, but underlying it all Maggot tasted the cold and damp. As a group they stumbled down narrow steps, one of the men going ahead to open a heavy oak door. As Bran entered the room, Maggot glimpsed a low roof and bare walls. A hand in the middle of his back shoved him after Bran.

"It's nothing personal, m'lord Bran," Romy said.

The door slammed shut, ensconcing the two men in darkness.

As if he were in any other deep cave, Maggot explored the boundaries of their s.p.a.ce, trailing his bound hands along the wall, feeling the joins at the corners, the seams at floor and ceiling. He went slowly, as if there might be hidden creva.s.ses, but he found none. The walls were rough and the ceiling propped up by curving arches.

"What happened?" Maggot asked as he explored. "Why would they treat us this way? They are your people, your band."

"It's more complicated than that."

The voice came from right beside Maggot, down low. Bran sat against the base of the wall. Had Maggot taken another step, he would have tripped over him.

"Baron Culufre has ruled here for"-he paused-"seventeen years now. Yes, I was twelve then. But he comes originally from the Imperial City and so do almost all of his knights and soldiers, at least the core group. Only I ever rose to any position among his men."

Maggot completed the full circuit of the room, returning to the door. A thin line of dim light squeezed around the frame, but not enough to illuminate his bonds.

"I grew up in this valley," Bran said. "My mother's farm-well, she's given it to my brother Pwyl's wife now-is less than a day's journey from here. So I'm an outsider to many of them."

The ropes binding Maggot's wrists were too tight to pull loose, so he nipped at them with his teeth.

"The Baron's half-brother, m'lady Sebius, the eunuch-"

Maggot looked toward Bran's voice. "What is eunuch?"

"A man made like unto a woman, to have the rights of women." Bran's feet scuffed the floor as if he were uncomfortable. "Like a wizard taking the robes. But eunuchs can own property, own land, pa.s.s it on to their chosen heirs."

The answer created more questions than it solved. Finding the rope too rough and hard, Maggot gave up chewing at it.

"Sebius was made a eunuch to hold land for the Baron, since the skills and loyalty of the Baroness were not known at that time. But she's proven to be a strong lady, wise with her wealth, and though Sebius has grown rich-this is her palace-she's not the ruler she had hoped to be, I think."

Maggot inched his way along the wall, palms skimming the surface, seeking any sharp nib of rock. Finding one, he rubbed the rope against it.

"Sebius was the chief herder when the Baron arrived." Bran fell silent a moment. The only sound was that of stone abrading rope. "I still remember the sight of that army marching across the river plain, all the mammuts-most of them were sent back to the Imperial City eventually. I said good-bye to my mother and ran after the army, promising to be back within a week. But Sebius took me into her service. There must have been a dozen of us: old men, women, boys. And as Sebius prospered, so did we. I was promoted many times."

Maggot gave up on the first stone and moved along the wall seeking something sharper to work with.

"The Baron has never done anything similar, surrounding himself always with those he trusts from the empire's heart. And yet ..."

"What?" Maggot found another and rubbed with better luck, fraying a thread or two.

"It's hard to say. The Baron has put down roots here. Sebius, who should naturally have put down roots, remains much more attached to the empire. The Baron has never traveled back to the Imperial City except for the last Empress's funeral, but Sebius returns every other year or so. Her intervention there raised me to a knight, despite my birth. I think she wanted to show that she had the power, the connections, to do that."

Bran fell silent.

Maggot worried at the ropes, certain that water could wear away bedrock faster than he could break them. The angle was bad, and the stone had quickly lost its edge.

"She owes me a great deal too, though," Bran said. "If Acrysy does this alone, then as soon as Sebius finds out the truth we are saved."

"And if Sebius raises a hand with Acrysy?"

Bran shuffled his feet again and sighed. "She has the power to do whatever she wishes."

Maggot was unsure how much time pa.s.sed-it was always hard for him to tell in a deep cave. Based on his thirst, it seemed like a long time. When he became tired, he curled up on the flagstone floor and drowsed. Bran's dry voice woke him, but whether it was a short or long time later, he had no idea. The light lining the door had disappeared.

"They mean for us to be afraid, friend Claye."

"Afraid?"

"Of the darkness. It is like a tomb in here."

"It is dark like an old cave. If you crawl through a new cave in darkness, that causes fear. A sudden drop-off can trap you in a deep crack where no one can reach you and you cry until you die. That happened with a girl I knew"-to Blossom-"and nothing the whole band could do in a week could save her. But this is like an old cave. Here we have solid ground, solid walls." He smacked his feet against the floor, pounded his fists on the stone. "What can happen to us here?"

Bran's laughter bounced around like a pebble dropped down a deep shaft. "Perhaps."

"There is no danger in the dark," Maggot said. "Unless the dark holds enemies."

The smell in the small room was changing, but Maggot was hardpressed to say how. Bran's sweat was strong, and his own, but something else tickled his nose.

"Mother Bwnte," Bran said. "May she curse Romy for paying such attention when I trained him. My hands have gone completely numb, they are bound so tight." Shuffles across the floor were followed by fists hammering on the thick door. "Open up! Sebius! Sebius! Open this door! Come here right now!"

Maggot searched again for a sharper-edged stone. He found one close to the floor. By kneeling, he could sc.r.a.pe hard against it. After a while he touched the rope to his leg. It was warm in the cool room. His shoulder pressed against the damp wall while he worked.

Bran pounded for a long time, alternately begging and threatening, until finally he wearied of it and plopped down against the far wall. "I can almost feel my fingers again," he said. Then muttered, "The ones that remain." And added louder, "Can you hear my belly thunder? That's not the worst of it. I'm so thirsty I could drink the mother water itself."

"Here's some water flowing from the wall," Maggot said, turning to lick the trickle at his shoulder. It tasted a bit moldy, which was the odor he'd smelled. He was hungry too. If he got the ropes off, he might eat them. "Enough to wet your lips, and maybe your throat, but it won't fill your belly."

Bran scrambled over, b.u.mping into Maggot and kneeing his head. "Sorry about that. Where is it?"

"It's about the height of your waist. No, lean toward me. It's near that sharp edge in the stone."

"Found it." Bran lapped at the rock like a wildcat drinking from a pool of water. When he finally stopped, he sighed. "How could anything taste so terrible and so sweet at the same time?"

Maggot rubbed his head against his arm, soothing the spot that Bran had kneed. "About the women?"

There was a pause. "Yes."

"Bran, how would I find the women?"

There was a longer pause. "Go to any dwelling and knock on the door. Women live in every house."

"No. The women. The one in the camp, in the tent, the one I gave the lion's skin to."

"Ah, the woman."