Daughter of Regals (48 page)

“Young whelps, it is
well that the Temple of God is served by able men such as Templeman Knarll
rather than by ignorant louts such as yourselves. He also is not blind. He saw
that this question was one which he must answer. It would be asked again before
the judica, when Dom Peralt was brought for judgment—and the men of land and
station and power there would not look kindly upon an affirmative reply.
Restraining his ire, Templeman Knarll responded, ‘Thamala was not known to be a
witch. She was merely a finding of Growt’s, nothing more. And he took her
asleep in a camp of gypsies, where she was in hiding from the justice of the Temple.
His iron blocked her wiles before she had opportunity to employ them. 
Therefore he was unaware of her—and did not report her. Had she been known to
us, we would have taken her from him at once, to protect the innocent.’

“At this, Dom Peralt
bowed. ‘Your integrity relieves me greatly,’ he said. ‘It does, however,
inspire another question. By what means have you now determined that this
Thamala was indeed a witch? Have you taken her captive? Has the judica already
pronounced judgment upon her?’

“From this unseemly
inquiry Templeman Knarll stepped back. Dom Peralt’s second question did not
appear as dangerous as his first. ‘I caution you,’ said the Templeman. ‘I will
have no more of your insolence. It is in my power to deprive you of water until
your flesh screams for it, if I choose. For how long have you been in consort—?’

“Dom Peralt made no
movement which might attract the force of the guards. He stood against the
stone, his hands still at his sides—no threat in him. Yet he interrupted
Templeman Knarll in a voice which caused that worthy to flinch as though he had
been struck. ‘Have you named this Thamala a witch merely because I set her
free?’

“Provoked to fury, the
Templeman pounded a fist on the top of his writing desk, so that the candle
flames wavered and danced and his eyes echoed the fires of damnation. ‘She
vanished!’
he roared. ‘No Godly goodwoman simply disappears before townspeople and
Templemen— but your consort did! With her foul power, she veiled her flight
from all around her. And that was
witnessed!
It was witnessed by
Templemen
!’
By degrees, he regained his composure. ‘You freed her,’ he said in a tone at
once soft and venomous. ‘You. Of all the slaves offered you, you chose her and
freed her—her and no other. I notice you do not protest your innocence. Why
her, Dom Peralt? Why her and no other?’

“Dom Peralt smiled as
well as the growing anguish of his thirst permitted. ‘You say that she has
vanished, and you have not recaptured her. Therefore you cannot present her as
evidence of my wrong-doing to the judica. You have no case against me, Templeman.’

“Templeman Knarll did
not blink or turn aside. Why should he permit this degraded youth to anger him?
His power was sure. More softly still, he repeated, ‘Why her and no other?’

“But Dom Peralt also did
not turn aside. His smile in no way softened the hardness in his eyes. ‘When I
looked at her,’ he answered, ‘I saw that her spirit was greater than her fear.
Though she was enslaved—and enslaved by Growt’—she was not cowed. For that
reason, I chose her.’ Then he said again, ‘Templeman, you have no case against
me.’

“Abruptly, Templeman
Knarll stood from his chair. With great care, he set aside his quill, stopped
his inkpot, then gathered up his sheets of parchment and tucked them away
within the sleeve of his surplice. As he did so, he said, ‘Dom Sen Peralt, you
are an impious wretch, care less of your soul, and a hazard to all who love
salvation. Praise God, the Temple is stronger. And we who serve the will of
Heaven will never permit such as you to disorder our good work. If you think
to defy me, you are a fool. I will return to question you when thirst has
lessened your haughtiness somewhat.

“‘Understand me well,’
he continued as he moved to the door. ‘By the word of the Temple, you are
bound— and by the word of the Temple, your bones will burn in molten iron if
you refuse to answer me. Tell me how you came into the company of this
witch—how she wove her wiles upon you—and how we may find her again, recapture
her so that her evil can be destroyed—and you will be spared from agony if not
from death. Hear you? The Temple is stronger than you. You have no escape. Your
soul is in our care, whether you are determined for Heaven or Hell, and we will
wrest you from evil at any cost. You are bound to us as all are bound, from the
meanest slave to King Traktus himself, and we will rule our own. Think upon it
and recant.’

“A stirring speech,” Ser
Visal commented after a fresh draught of that vile malmsey. “You would do well
to heed it. But I regret to say that Dom Peralt was not swayed by such chaff.
Perverse man, he faced Templeman Knarll as he had earlier faced Growt the
slaver and was not abashed.

“‘I think not,’ he said.
‘For the most part, the folk under your rule are cattle, and so you misjudge
all others. But to condemn me you must try me before the judica— and the judica
is composed of men like myself; men of my own station. Do you believe they will
pass judgment upon me? They will not dare. For the safety of their own skins,
they will not dare. You have no case against me,’ he said for the third time. ‘And
if any Dom or Ser may be sent to the cauldron on such a pretext, then none of
their lives are secure. They will not permit it.’

“‘They will not be asked
to permit it,’ replied Templeman Knarll almost mildly. ‘Before the judica
sits, I will obtain your confession. Thirst and pain, Dom Peralt. I will obtain
all the answers I require. In simple mercy for a confessed consort of witches,
the judica will condemn you—and all your insolence will avail you nothing.’

“This Dom Peralt chose
to ignore. His thirst was already severe, and he did not wish to consider its
consequences. ‘Further,’ he continued as if Templeman Knarll had not spoken, ‘my
friends will support me. Serson Na-son Lew and Domson Beau Frane will testify
that I have no knowledge of witches. Especially they will testify that I had
never beheld the woman Thamala until I purchased her—and that I purchased her
while drunk—and that I did so only under Growt’s bullying, so that he would not
break my skull. It is plain that I will be freed. You will know how you are
feared if no one of the judica laughs in your face.’

“But Templeman Knarll
was no longer to be baited. He gestured the guards to retrieve his writing desk
and chair. As they obeyed, he said, ‘Your friends have already spoken.’ Now he
did not trouble to meet Dom Peralt’s gaze. ‘They understand the error of their
ways and are prepared to be truthful. They will testify that frequently you
left them at night, to go they knew not where. But always when you returned you
bore the marks of blood and debauch upon your person. And always when you
returned you proposed some new revel, prank, or crime, each more degrading and
vile than the one before. They will testify that they have long suspected your
involvement with witchcraft—and that only their fear of you impelled them to
hold their tongues until now.

“‘Dom Peralt, I advise
confession.’ Brusquely, Templeman Knarll waved the guards from the cell. He
stood aside in the passage as the door was locked. Then through the bars he
concluded, ‘You will earn a kinder death.’

“Without further word,
he strode away. The boots of his escort knelled upon the hard earth as they
departed.

“‘Whoresons!’
Dom
Peralt shouted after them—and had the satisfaction of hearing his anger echo
from the walls. But the echoes faded rapidly, and he was left alone.

“Doubtless,” said Ser
Visal abruptly, disdaining transition, “you are all agog with curiosity
concerning the witch Thamala.” There he misjudged us—or judged us better than
we knew. For the moment, we were not concerned with Thamala at all. Our first
thought was a righteous indignation that Dom Peralt had been betrayed by his
trusted friends. What manner of men were they, to be so spineless?
We
would
have been braver. But then we thought again. At one time or another, all of us
had tasted the severity of the Temple in small ways, and from our cradles we
had learned an abiding fear of Templemen. Their authority ruled our lives.
Would any of us truly have defied them to champion a friend who had fallen
under their disfavor? If we were honest, we admitted that we had doubt of
ourselves.

Therefore we felt Dom
Peralt’s plight the more poignantly. Imprisoned by Templemen, intended for
torture and death—and betrayed by his friends! How had he borne it? Alone and
without hope, how had he borne it?

But Ser Visal told his
tales in his own way, and he chose to misinterpret our avid attention. Bracing
his hands upon the table, he shifted his weight to settle his hams more
comfortably. Then he leaned again into the warmth of the hearth. “Well,” he
continued, “there is little I can profitably relate to you. All witches conceal
their homes, parentage, and skill, striving in that way to preserve themselves
from the cauldron of the judica. I may say of her only that her mother was also
a witch—and unlucky, unable to elude the grasp of the Templemen. In bitter
flight because she could not aid her mother—for were not her mother’s wrists
bound in iron, proof against witchery?—Thamala turned to the gypsies for
sanctuary. And there she indeed found safety for a time. But at last some
trifling display of witchcraft concerning a young man and a girl incurred the
hostility of the crone who ruled the band. Jealous of her authority, that old
beldame made occasion to drug Thamala’s food and sell her, helpless,
to
Growt.

“As for her escape when
Dom Peralt had freed her— an ordinary woman might have crept away to safety,
avoiding the notice of the townspeople. Their attention was elsewhere—upon Dom
Peralt’s fall into the mire. But the Templemen are more vigilant. Suspicious of
him for his carousing, his refusal of slaves, his scorn toward the Temple, they
would not have failed to watch the woman he freed, hoping that she would
provide them opportunity against him. Thamala would not have escaped them without
employing the evil of her wiles.

“Yet she was safe. That
was the thought with which Dom Peralt consoled his thirst and his fear. I do
not credit him with any selfless concern for her person. He had freed her only
on a whim, to spite Growt the slaver, not for love or conviction. But in this
matter, he reflected, her safety was his. Though it was an uncertain hope at
best, it enabled him to master the anger of his betrayal. After his first
outrage, a number of regrettably sacrilegious oaths, and a time of tense
pacing, he found some comfort in the knowledge that the case against him was
composed entirely of inference and malice. Lacking Thamala, the Templemen
lacked the sure evidence which would compel the judica to enact judgment. And
if it were not compelled, the judica might think better of the precedent it was
asked to establish—a precedent potentially dangerous to all its members.

“With that hope, Dom
Peralt urged himself to conserve his strength. An undertaste of vinegar lurked
in the wine of his reasoning. If a confession were wrung from him, by whatever
coercions the Templemen chose, then no evidence would be required to consign
him to the cauldron. It was utterly necessary that he keep his courage,
husband his resources.

“I assure you—though I
doubt you fully understand me—that this was not easily done. To remain calm
alone in a hard and rat-infested cell is certainly difficult. To remain calm in
the face of unjust accusation and betrayal would test the patience of a saint.
But thirst is a terrible thing, destructive to the self-possession of its
victims.” Ser Visal snatched up his flagon and drank deeply as though to ward
away the mere thought of true thirst. “Before midnight, Dom Peralt began to
doubt that his resolve would hold.

“In due time, it
occurred to him to wonder whether the blood of rats were fit for human drink.”

His eyes squeezed and
glittering in the flesh of his face, Ser Visal cast a glance around the public
room, then said with unexpected sanctimony, “Perhaps it would have been well
for his immortal soul if he had been driven to that extremity. But what is done
may not be undone. It is the will of Heaven—not to be questioned. Midnight was well gone by Dom Peralt’s reckoning when he was startled to hear a key labor
once again in the lock of the door. And he was more than startled when the door
opened, admitting the witch Thamala to his cell.”

Though our astonishment
was plain, Ser Visal appeared to take no pleasure in it. For the moment, his
story held him as it did us, and he did not note our reaction.

“The witch Thamala,” he
repeated softly. “She had made shift to bathe herself and obtain clean
clothing, so that she little resembled the begrimed wretch he had freed Her
bruises and swellings had already begun to heal, allowing the beauty of her
face to show itself. Her hair was a soft and generous brown, a color which
invites the touch of a man’s hand, in simple justice, she should have been
unrecognizable. But Dom Peralt stared and stared at her and could not be
mistaken.

“She entered the cell as
if it were free of access to all. No hue arose behind her—no guard came to
watch what she did. As she had once vanished, so she now reappeared.

“In her hands, she bore
the iron ring, as large around as a fist, from which jangled the keys of the
Jailer. But when she had ascertained that it was indeed Dom Peralt who sat,
dumbfounded, before her, she cast the ring from her, spurning that metal as
though its touch burned her. Then she knelt before him, so that her gaze met
and studied his.

“What she saw satisfied
her. Placing her hands on his arms where they folded across his knees, she
said, ‘Come. We must flee this dire place.’ A smile touched her lips. ‘Even
with my aid, the guards will not sleep forever. Come.’