Darkness Weaves (10 page)

Hanging from the wall above her couch was a nearly life-sized full-length painting of another woman. The lady of the painting was one of the most beautiful that Kane had ever seen. She reclined upon a fur-strewn couch, seductively attired in the filmiest of silk veils. Her skin was a luminous white, her figure a compelling synthesis of feminine loveliness and licentiousness. The artist must have spent weeks seeking to portray the exquisite delicacy of her face, the dark glowing eyes, the silken black hair.

The girl in the painting, and the girl on the couch before him. Perfect beauty and mutilated depravity. It was a mind-destroying contrast of absolute extremes. And in one awful moment, Kane understood that both of these women were Efrel.

She had been tied by her wrists, so that her arms were relatively unmarred--at least no bone was laid bare. The remainder of her entire body was hideously scarred. Her flesh was but shapeless masses of twisted tissue; in places pallid bone shone beneath the expanses of scar. Jagged stumps of rib poked through her side, where flesh had been stripped bare by her ride. One leg was amputated just below the knee, torn away or too maimed to be salvaged. On her other leg, her foot was no more than a flattened stump below her ankle.

Worst of all was her face. It must have dragged the earth after Efrel had lost consciousness. Long strands of black silky hair grew from the few patches on her scalp that were more than just splotches of scar tissue. Most of the flesh of her face had been scraped away; her ears were scraggly stumps of gristle, her nose but a gaping pit. Efrel's difficulty of speech was easily accounted for. Her cheeks had been fearfully lacerated, and her mouth was drawn into a shapeless slit that was unable to cover the broken bits of her teeth. One eye was horror, the other worse because it had been unmarred. This one dark eye was still beautiful in this hideous travesty of a human face--an onyx in a maggot pile.

The creature called Efrel should not be alive; clearly no human form could survive such mutilation. Yet she lived. And the malevolent force of vengeance that somehow kept her living blazed forth insanely from her one eye--an eye which looked straight into Kane's eyes without flinching.

Kane stared dispassionately at the horror on the couch, his manner portraying no emotion other than urbane curiosity. He laughed mirthlessly. "Yes, I am Kane. And I see that you are Efrel. Now that we have introduced ourselves, who have you summoned me to Dan-Legeh?"

"What? Business? So soon?'' tittered Efrel, all shackles of sanity cast far aside. "Why do you speak to me now of business? See! You are in the intimate bedchamber of the Empire's most beautiful lady! See me there on the wall! See me here before you! Have I changed so? Do you not find me beautiful still? Am I not the most lovely and desirable woman your eyes have ever beheld? Once I was!"

"Compared with what lies within your flayed carcass, you are still a beautiful woman," Kane thought aloud, revulsion rising within him.
Another burst of insane laughter. "So gallant, Kane? But I know the evil that lurks behind your eyes! And we are two of a kind, you and I! Mated in evil!"

She opened her arms to him. "Come, Kane the pirate! Come, Kane the Deathless! If you are truly to take Alremas's place, remember that he was once more than general to me! Come, Kane, my lover!"

Kane went to her side. The tattered lips writhed against his.

On the floor, the dead eyes of the strangled eunuch watched in horror.

Sipping sweet wine from a splendid crystal chalice, Kane thoughtfully looked over a number of closely. written sheets of parchment. The body of Gravter had been carried off, and another attendant stood watch beyond the door. Kane's sword hung at his belt once again, as Dan-Legeh's macabre mistress had altogether accepted him into her confidence. Efrel, Kane sourly mused, was fully satisfied with him.

Now she emerged from her bedchamber to bring another stack of papers to the lamplit table where Kane sat. For all her broken limbs and maimed flesh, Efrel was not bedridden. To the stump below her right knee was strapped a bizarrely carved wooden leg. Set with costly gems and embellished with strange carvings, it resembled a demon's forepaw from some drugged nightmare. Thus Efrel was able to walk about, although her task was difficult, and she required the aid of a cane to hobble for any distance.

She extended the papers to Kane triumphantly. "Here are a few other documents that will interest you: lists of the ships of war under Marin's command, the numbers of fighting men he can muster, secret pledges of fealty to me from various lords, the current status of my own forces--all these things are tabulated here. Wouldn't Maril give a fortune to read it!"

Kane glanced up from one of the statements. "You've done an extraordinarily thorough job here of gathering and assimilating information--excellent work in accounting for your own preparations, as well as in finding out your enemy's strengths and weaknesses. I'm impressed."

Efrel made what might have been a smile. "Yes, my spies are very efficient. Most efficient. There is little I do not know of my enemies. Where my human servants fail me, I have other means of gathering information."

Kane's eyebrows rose slightly, but he moved on. "Yeah, so I see. Well, these show you have made thorough preparations. I'll need to study these more carefully, of course--but for the moment, just where do things stand? I mean, can you give me a quick summary, say, of the present stage of your overall plans?"

Painfully dropping into a chair, Efrel waited a moment before beginning. "It is growing late, and dawn cannot be far off. I'm tired, and so I shall make this brief. Later we can work out details together--I'm certain your own knowledge will prove invaluable in this venture."

She began speaking with deliberate slowness, her voice rising with tension at each phrase. "I have spent these past several years plotting to overthrow the usurper rule of Netisten Maril. Of the failure of my first effort, you already know. I paid an inconceivable penalty for that failure, but the gods of darkness were moved to spare their daughter for a second attempt.

"This time I have spun my web more cunningly. This time I have summoned to my command forces powerful beyond human imagination. This time I will not--I cannot fail. I must restore the rule of the house of Pellin to this region. I must claim the Imperial throne that was predestined to be mine. I must avenge myself upon Netisten Maril and all his thrice-damned line. I must have my vengeance!"

This last utterance was almost a shriek. Her next words were whispered. "And no man, no god, no devil shall obstruct my vengeance."

It was a moment before Efrel went on. "As you see, I have prepared well for this. Yes, prepared well--and Maril still has learned nothing of my plans. I have been secretly building up Pellin's navy. Many a ship that floats at anchor in some southern harbor waits not for cargo, but for my commands. My emissaries have sought out the clandestine allegiance of many of the island lords--great lords as well as those from the lesser islands. Imel, whom you have met, is typical of my new servants--a renegade noble from Thovnos itself. Like the scions of other noble houses which have dwindled under the Netisten rule, he recognized the chance to seize the rich holdings that would restore the prestige of his blood. In some instances promises of expanded power, or of unbridled pillage and looting have brought a noble over to me. Or it may happen that some lord who hated me has suddenly died, and a secret friend to my cause has taken his place. Armies of mercenaries have given their allegiance through my proxy lords. I've even enlisted whole regiments from bands of pirates, recruited hunted criminals for my service--so you, Kane, should be among congenial souls.

"Thus, piece by piece, I have added to my forces--amassed an army of vengeance without Maril's suspicion. The exact strength that I can muster at this moment is recorded here. I estimate that perhaps as many as one hundred ships will sail behind my battle pennant--and there are many more who will join me once they have seen our initial success. Fighting men and galley slaves I can produce in the thousands, and my workers labor day and night over new arms and armor and engines of war."

"What you say is impressive, certainly," interrupted Kane. "But withal we'll be heavily outnumbered by the Imperial navy. As near as I can tell from your documents here, Maril still has the firm allegiance of the monarchs of the other six major islands in the Empire, not to mention that the majority of the smaller islands are largely under his direct control. He can easily muster a fleet three times our strength, and every vessel a first-class fighting ship. He has only to call upon his lords to render to him the support that they are pledged to give their Emperor. And in manpower we're even worse outstripped."

Kane scowled at the sheaf of documents. "Hell, if Maril scrapes the bottom of the barrel the way you have, he can command better than four times our number of ships, and man them better, too. As I found out once before in these islands, no amount of daring and ingenuity can conquer an enemy whose resources are vastly superior to your own. It ultimately has to come down to human terms--man against man--and in the final balance the stronger force will be victor and the weaker will be dead."

"Of course!" Efrel dismissed Kane's forebodings. "But as I have told you, I have more than human powers at my command. These scribbled sheets of parchment do not hint of the hidden forces that I shall unleash in good time--but only at the proper moment may I do so."

She paused to relish Kane's obvious curiosity.

"Listen, Kane! See to the organization of my mundane powers. I know you have the genius to forge these disparate fragments into a fighting unit--an army that shall conquer despite our inferior numbers and my thrown-together fleet. Your reward for this victory will be a kingdom--power in the Empire second only to my own.

"Only see to your army, and don't speak to me of balances and of odds. For I tell you, Kane--when the time comes to strike, I can turn the tides of war for us! No man dare guess from what secret realms Efrel shall summon forth an irresistible power. They who shall answer my call will smash aside any petty advantage Maril may have over us in numbers and strength."

Kane pounced to draw her out. "You interest me. What manner are these supernatural powers that you claim to command? If they are so potent, why do you need me?"

Sensing his challenge, Efrel again became evasive. Her nightmarish face assumed a vague interpretation of a cunning smile. "Later, Kane, when it is time to take you into my fullest confidence. Later I shall tell you all. But now the dawn breaks: '

There exists an unmistakable aura about a prison cell. A man blind and deaf can sense this quality, even though he cannot see the walls and bars, or hear the curses, the pleas, the rattle of chains. The prison may be a filthy hole buried in some forgotten dungeon; it may be a royal suite offering every convenience and luxury. Regardless of its station or the range of accommodation, every prison denies its inmates two priceless rights--freedom and human dignity.
For every prison there stands some form of barrier--a rusty chain, a mouldering wall, a surly guard, or perhaps only an obsequious but adamant attendant at the door. Some definite barrier imposes its will upon the imprisoned and says to him This far you may go, but no farther, this much you may do, but nothing more. As surely as a prison robs a man of his freedom to choose for himself his movements and actions, the same does it strip from him his dignity as an independent individual. And from this denial arises that characteristic rancid atmosphere which every prison exudes--an invisible miasma of tension, compounded of hatred and fear, apathy and pain, frustrated hope and inexpressible despair.

M'Cori sensed this. Her heartbeat raced in subconscious panic as she followed the guards, and she breathed rapidly as if the air were growing stale. It was stale, she thought uneasily. No fresh air, no sunlight, no companionship--a lingering death by suffocation. Shivering, she repressed this painful line of thought As she descended the stairway, she gathered close the vagrant folds of her silken gown, dreading that a touch might absorb some intangible taint from the stones. She wore a light cloak about her white shoulders, although the bodies of the guards showed beads of sweat outside their dirty harness.

A half-dozen guards waited viligantly outside the heavy door that opened into an underground room from which there was no other exit. They stood with weapons ready, suspiciously awaiting the approach of the others. A challenge was sounded and answered. The newcomers advanced, and the guards relaxed somewhat as they recognized the daughter of their Emperor.

"He's been asking for you, milady," explained the captain courteously. He peered through the tiny barred spyhole in the thick door. Inside were posted four more guards. "It's all right. Open her up!" he ordered them. "The Lady M'Cori has come to pay a visit."

The captain of the guard thrust his keys into the two massive locks on his side of the door, while from within heavy bolts were pulled back. The door swung open ponderously, and the guards within stepped back to allow their captain to enter the antechamber. Another key turned the lock on the door of thick bars that good inside. The guards watched tensely as this final barrier creaked open, but of the inmate of Thovnosten's most secure cell there was no sign.

The captain held the door. "If you please, milady, no more than half an hour. Your father's orders, you know."

Nodding halfheartedly, she crossed the threshold. Again she experienced that same tremor of trapped hopelessness, and she wondered if ever again they two should meet beyond its chill shadow. She called softly, "Lages?"

The room was silent--in subterranean darkness but for a single lamp and the torches outside. It was spacious enough so that much of the chamber was lost in shadow beyond the flickering light. As her wide eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, M'Cori could make out the spartan accommodations of the cell.