Lord Of The Silent Kingdom Part 30

n.o.body got the chance to run.

The terra-cotta grind had a triumphant ring. The Witchfinders grabbed their unconscious comrade...

Stone flew.

Hecht and Stile embraced the cracked tile floor. Stones up to the size of a fist hurtled around, smas.h.i.+ng into rubble and pillars. All three Witchfinders got hit.

The air filled with dust. Hecht's eyes began drying out. He fought down a sneeze. Osa did sneeze, then blew his nose desperately, but only Hecht noticed. The Witchfinders had been pounded into unconsciousness.

A little voice called, "Help." It seemed familiar.

None of the lamps suffered till the final moment of the stone storm. Then one shattered, scattering burning oil in a spray eight feet long. One Witchfinder caught fire. He leapt up and took off blindly, screaming.

"Help!" A little louder. Followed by a weak terra-cotta grind and a rattle of disturbed rubble.

Osa blurted, "That sounded like the Princ.i.p.ate!"

Hecht thought so, too, but was suspicious of anything that happened easily.

"This is easy?" Stile asked.

"We'll check it out." Easy or not. "But there're men out there that we don't want to see us."

"Cut their throats."

"Let's see if we can't find something less savage and final."

"They're Brotherhood of War. Special Office. The worst of the worst."

"We aren't in the Holy Lands. Our work isn't tactical. Let the Princ.i.p.ate decide what to do. If we find him."

"Help!" Louder, now.

"He knows we're here."

"Get busy."

Stile produced a wicked little knife with a slight bend at its end. He sliced strips from the ca.s.sock of the man who had handed Hecht that courier wallet, back when.

"Yes. Him first. He's the dangerous one."

Both men recovered during the binding. Hecht was not pleased. But he stuck to his decision to leave them to the mercy of Princ.i.p.ate Delari.

His left wrist ached.

A HALF-DOZEN GRAIN JARS HAD BEEN SET INTO THE FLOOR.

Three were occupied by corpses. They had not been dead long. Another held Princ.i.p.ate Muniero Delari. Its lid lay at an angle in the opening. Tumbled blocks lay scattered all round. The lid made that characteristic groan as they dragged it aside.

The old man was weak but in good spirits and game.

"Looks like there's been some sorcery here," Osa said. "They used no sorcery themselves, though. They just tried to keep the lid on."

Hecht hoisted the old man. "Thank you," Delari breathed. "I thought I'd made a fatal mistake this time. How did you find me?"

"Chance and reason. Armand knew you'd gone hunting down here. I guessed that would be where the hippodrome fell down."

"Fell down?"

"Collapsed. Into a big hole in the ground."

"I thought some of the roof fell in when... Oh, drat! I miscalculated seriously, didn't I?"

"I don't know. What did you do?"

"I brought a keg of firepowder..." He coughed. "Laced with silver and iron pellets. It worked. The monster charged into the trap. I fired the powder. The explosion killed the thing."

Hecht sighed. The man was being disingenuous, to say the least.

Delari continued. "Firepowder is new to me. The explosion was more violent than I expected. I set the keg against a pillar so the force would all blow toward the monster."

"It doesn't work that way."

"So I found out."

"How did you get down in that hole?" Stile asked.

"They put me there. The servants of the beast. They found me unconscious and put me down there."

"The Witchfinders?"

"Witchfinders?"

'The men keeping you here were Special Office," Hecht said. "One of them was involved with what they were doing in Sonsa, too."

"Where are they now? How did you get past them?"

"We didn't."

Stile said, "Most of them ran away. We have two of them tied up."

"Take me there." The old man was coming back.

Even so, Hecht scooped Delari up and carried him to where the Witchfinders were trying to wriggle free.

"Put me down, Piper. Turn them around so I can look them in the eye. Ah! Gryphen Pledcyk." That was the man Hecht had met on the wharf. "Explain yourself."

Pledcyk avoided the old man's eye.

Osa said, "The rest claimed they were going for help."

"Let help come. In the form of the man behind this." Delari considered the other captive. "I don't recognize this one. Show me his bare back."

Hecht did as instructed. Delari grunted.

"Sir?"

"He has the tattoo. That means this is a Brotherhood operation."

The nameless man started to protest. He shut up ,as Pledcyk gave him an ugly look.

Delari said, "Kill Pledcyk. It'll take too long to break him. The other one will talk to save his own skin."

Hecht hesitated. Osa slid behind Pledcyk, grabbed the man's hair, yanked his head back. Pledcyk did not struggle.

Delari nodded.

Stile did it. Using that nasty little knife.

Hecht jumped, surprised.

No one was more surprised than Gryphen Pledcyk.

Delari asked the other, "Can you walk?"

The Witchfinder nodded, thoroughly cowed.

"Armand. Take him to my apartment. Kill him if he gives you any trouble. Don't attract attention. I'll question him after we clean up here."

Osa beckoned the captive. "Come."

Hecht asked, "Are you sure, sir?"

"You mean, can I handle this?"

"Exactly."

"I'll manage. But if I do run dry, carry me."

"If I can find the way."

Pledcyk continued to bleed out, his eyes filled with terror.

Hecht suspected the Princ.i.p.ate was making statements on several levels. Delari said, "I'll stay awake."

Hecht had nothing more to say. He watched Osa herd the captive into the darkness. And worried that Delari might not be as blind about the catamite as might be hoped.

"Was I too harsh, Piper?"

"About Pledcyk? I think so. Yes."

"He knew you were down here. His bunch shouldn't have been. There'd be no explaining why they threw me in that hole. Which I wasn't intended to survive."

"We found dead men in three of the others. I don't know who they were. Yes. I understand the rationale for killing Pledcyk. I'm a soldier. But he might have told us something interesting."

"He might have. Yes. That's sound soldier's thinking. But a sorcerer can follow other paths to the truth. A fact you should keep in mind. I'm going to nap, now. Wake me when company comes."

"Sir?"

The old man went out like a snuffed candle.

Hecht supposed he was right. Someone would come. If for no other reason than to get rid of the evidence.

The monster Delari claimed to have slain. What was it? Truly an Instrumentality of the Night? In Brothe? Why? How did it get here? Was it really responsible for all those horrible killings?

Whatever the facts, Delari had thought the danger sufficient that he had visited the catacombs personally to eliminate it.

Hecht jostled the Princ.i.p.ate. "Someone coming, sir."

"Get out of sight. Jump in if it's too much for me to handle."

"You know who it'll be?"

"I have a suspicion. It's likely to get out of hand if you're seen. Go on!"

Hecht drifted back to where he and Osa had crouched earlier. He felt more positive once he reclaimed his lantern. Osa, he noted, had taken his.

Delari slumped, a man too exhausted to do anything but breathe.

Hecht crouched, lantern and blade ready, and hoped for the best. Those who were coming would not be starving refugees armed with rusty tools.

The first entered the light warily, weapon hand demonstratively empty. He considered Delari and Gryphen Pledcyk. He wore a cloth across his face to help with the dust.

Sudden concern. Tracks. They would point like an arrow... But something had erased them. The dust appeared undisturbed.

Delari had managed it with barely a tickle from Hecht's amulet.

A lesson? Certainly another point worth remembering.

A second man entered the light. Gryphen Pledcyk had more impact.