VirtualDesire (23 page)

He scooped the woman into his arms.

She linked her arms about his neck and began to weep. Within
moments she was with the other maidens. He pulled Ardra aside. “She may have
been forced by a guard, and most certainly witnessed his death, so go gently
with her. She says your father took Gwen, but she is not in the hall with him.
Where can she be?”

“Narfrom must have taken her to one of the prison pits. It
is all I can think of.”

“And where are these pits?” Gwen in a pit? The image was not
to be borne.

“Beneath the fortress, by the river entrance, but above the
water.”

“Take the maidens below to one of the caves. They need to be
hidden away. And do not forget the child!”

Ardra did as he bade. How long she was gone, he did not
know. His impatience ate away at his composure. He saw in his mind the guard
between the maiden’s thighs, and imagined a similar fate for Gwen. His mouth
was dry.

Then he imagined heavy iron manacles around Gwen’s wrists,
saw her in an earthen prison with nothing but a grate overhead for air and
light. Either fate was intolerable.

When Ardra returned, she quietly led him to a set of
storerooms. “The child is gone—wandered off again. She will be punished for
disobedience this time. We must go on without her and hunt for her on our
return.” Ardra pulled on his arm. “No one will notice a little noise as the
mourners make their way to the chapel for the final funeral prayers, but I bid
you, go quietly.”

She opened an iron door and led him toward a simple,
oft-used corridor. This was not a hidden part of the fortress. This was a
common prison entrance.

Ardra lifted a hand, and he hung back while she proceeded.
She turned a corner, and he heard her voice take on an imperious tone. “Who is
in these pits?”

“Why do you ask?” came a man’s response.

Ardra gasped. “Narfrom. Father? What are you doing here?”

Vad took a step closer to the corner to better hear the men.

“My child, you must be gone. We are going to test this
slave. Go,” commanded a voice Vad assumed was Ruonail’s.

“Nay. You cannot.” There was a scuffle and the sound of a
grate being lifted.

“Go. Now,” Ruonail repeated. “Get to your chambers.”

Ardra came around the corner in a rush. She ran into Vad’s
arms. He slapped a hand over her mouth so she would not give him away. He
lifted her into his arms and silently carried her out of earshot. “What is
going on?” he whispered.

“They are testing her.” Ardra touched her amber pendant with
a trembling hand.

“You must stop it.” He placed her on her feet and implored
her with every fiber of his being.

“Me?” Her eyes widened.

“You know the test,” he said in a hiss. “Burning coals in
her hand or an iron on her breast.” He had no the strength to argue. He did
something he had never done before to a woman. He went down on one knee and
bent his head. “I beg this favor. You can stop the test. I ask it of you.”

For a few moments Vad knelt in silence; then he felt Ardra’s
hand on his head. Her words were barely audible. “How can I refuse you?” Then
her voice strengthened. “You have brought the maidens to safety. I will try to
stop the test, although I have never had the power to command my father. Now
please rise. You shame me.”

The effort to rise to his feet was almost too much. His head
felt swollen; his ears rang.

His imagination painted the scene. Gwen, her hand extended,
or worse, her breast bared for the hot iron. If the wound festered, she would
be taken out on the ice fields and abandoned. In Tolemac they had no ice
fields. They would have set her out at the rise of tide and let the sea take
her.

Ardra turned and walked resolutely away. He followed to the
corner and nocked an arrow. Every sound, every scent, every touch of air on his
body was heightened by his desire to know the outcome. Should Ardra fail to
have the test stopped, he would step out and kill whichever man performed the
test, most likely Narfrom. He was slipping, failing. He had not asked the most
important question—how many other guards were at the pits, men who were not
speaking? He would just have to keep shooting until he ran out of arrows—or was
stopped.

Gwen stood before Ruonail and Narfrom, her chin high. She
would not allow them to see how disconcerted she was. She blinked away the
torch smoke that drifted toward her.

“This slave knows about the treasure map. How, I ask? We
must determine the extent of her knowledge.” Narfrom spoke rapidly, his voice
hypnotic, and cataloged all the reasons she should be tested. Her eye color,
her outcast status, her lack of arm rings, and last, the one that startled her
most, the fact that if she truly had been sold by the Selaw to Ardra, why was
there no
X
on her breast to mark the transaction?

Ruonail paced, a frown on his face.

An indefinable flow of heat eddied about her sheer gown. It
reminded her of the heat that flowed from Vad to her each time he touched her.
Was he near?

What would the test be? Some question she had to answer? She
ran over all the little clues she remembered from the game. Which chiefdom
wanted what. Who was allied with whom. She prayed they’d ask her something
simple, like how many councilors made up the Tolemac council or how many moons
were overhead.

Ardra, her back straight, came around the corner. Ruonail
froze. “What are you doing here, daughter? I told you to be gone.”

Narfrom frowned and gripped Gwen by the upper arm. “Shall I
have the guards recalled?” His fingertips bit into her tender flesh. She
stifled a moan. “Shall I have Ardra taken away?” Narfrom asked.

“Father, I beg you, do not send me away until you have heard
me.” She made a deep bow.

Her father turned from Narfrom, his hands thrust out in a
gesture almost of supplication. “You should not be here, my child.”

“Aye. It is my place. Is this not my slave?”

“Go to your chamber. This business is not for you to see.”

“I have seen a testing before, Father. Do you not remember?
When Mother was alive?”

“Ardra! How can you bring that up now?”

She knelt at her father’s feet, her silk gown a molten gold
pool about her body. Its fineness was a sharp contrast to the stone floors and
the ugly pits only a few feet away. Gwen suddenly understood that whatever the
test was, it would be no simple quiz of facts. Tears ran down Ardra’s face.

But she did not bow her head as she spoke; she kept her eyes
on her father’s face. “I have asked little of you. Give this slave into my
care, Father. Please, I beg of you.”

Narfrom stepped forward, but Ruonail raised a staying hand.
“You have been a good and obedient daughter. Will you answer a question before
I make a decision?”

Ardra nodded.

“Why is this slave unmarked?”

Gwen felt a flush of heat stain her cheeks.

“I would not allow it. What purpose does it serve to scar a
woman so men might know how many beds she has lain in? I hate the custom. It
sickens me. We do not mark the male slaves so we women can count their lovers.”

“And yet you have never spoken up before. Why now?”

Ardra folded her hands about her pendant. “We have just
mourned three men who died in treacherous acts. Perhaps if I had been thinking
for myself, saying what I thought all along, the men would not have thought me
such a useless sheep before whom they could do as they pleased. I have no
authority here, and yet I am your heir. It is time I took my place at your side
and made a few decisions.”

Ruonail smiled. “I have waited long to see some spark of
courage in you. Rise. I will spare your slave.”

“How dare you!” Narfrom dragged Gwen backward to the pit.
“You old fool. You forget what we have planned,” Narfrom said. “You forget what
our goal is. This slave,” he gestured at Gwen, “may yet ruin those plans. We
must test her.”

“I have made my judgment. You must abide by it, as should
any man.”

“You will regret this decision.”

“I regret all we have planned between us.” Ruonail thrust
his daughter aside as he approached the pits. “It is time to release the
maidens and make some recompense to appease their fathers’ ire. We will bring
only war upon us, such a war as has not been seen in generations. Tolemac will
not need to trade for the ice; they will simply annihilate us and take it! I
was a fool to believe in vague rumors of treasures and maps!”

“You coward,” Narfrom said in a low voice only Ruonail and
the two women could hear.

“How dare you!” Ruonail swung around.

Narfrom shoved Gwen into Ardra. They went down in a flurry
of skirts. Gwen screamed.

“Hold.” Vad stepped into the chamber. He aimed at Narfrom’s
chest, but it was to Ruonail he directed his words. “Take the women to safety.
I will deal with this one.”

Gwen was on her feet before Ruonail could reach them. As
Ardra went into her father’s arms, Narfrom smiled. It was reptilian,
frightening, but no less frightening than the dull metal object he drew from
his robes.

“I knew this would come in handy one day. Drop the bow or I
kill one of the women.”

Vad ignored him. “Ruonail, if you wish to salvage any of
your reputation, take the women away.”

Narfrom shifted his aim to Gwen. “Make the man see reason,
Gwen. When I came across Liah in the kitchen, she found my gun a more
fascinating object than the bowl of beans she was counting. If your champion is
not interested in saving your life, what about hers? Explain what a gun is,
Gwen, and how it works.”

The gun was aimed at her chest. Gwen’s heart thudded dully.
“Vad—”

Narfrom gasped. Ruonail swung to where Vad stood. “You are
Vad?”

“Well, well,” Narfrom said, smiling. “It seems we can avoid
violence. How pleased I am to meet the famous Vad.”

“What is it you hear of me?” Vad asked.

Gwen edged around behind Ruonail toward Vad. Somehow being
near him seemed terribly important. She felt a thickness in the air, a
gathering of something awful. It shimmered around them. She could taste
something bitter and ugly on her tongue.

A rumble of thunder shook the stone edifice.

“Enec, one of the dearly departed,” Narfrom said, “garnered
some pillow talk that you were after a very valuable map.”

“Pillow talk?” Ardra whispered. She glanced at her father.

Narfrom spared her a brief sneer. “Talk after lovemaking, my
dear. Loose talk. He was excellent at gathering those little gems that make a
man’s planning so much more effective.”

Another crack of thunder sounded, almost in the chamber with
them. Even Narfrom glanced overhead.

“Where is the child?” Vad asked, tracking Narfrom as he
moved around the chamber.

“Liah? I will give her to you in exchange for the map.”
Narfrom halted by one pit and tapped it with his toe. Everyone looked down.
“Oh, Liah is not in here. That little minx would have been howling up a storm
if she were here. But you will never find her, never know her fate if you do
not hand over the map.”

Vad tipped his head. “It is a fair exchange. Bring out the
child and I will give you the map.”

A sickness rose in Gwen’s belly. His words were casual, but
she knew the map was everything to him. Did Narfrom know that the map was in
the dagger, right there for all to see, the handle in plain view? He had only
to shoot Vad and he would have it.

Her knees nearly buckled. She glanced about for some weapon
to help defend Vad.

“Ruonail. Liah is in that little room where you like to meet
your concubine. Bring the child here, and we will have riches far greater than
any you can get with the ice.”

“Father, do not aid him. Return the child. Do not take the
map. We do not need the Tolemac treasures.”

There was a pair of chains lying in a neat coil on a table
by the chamber entrance. Gwen estimated how long it would take to get to them.

“Stand still,” Narfrom barked at her. “I can shoot him in
the knee, or the heart, before you can even lift those chains from the table.”

She froze. All eyes save Vad’s swung toward her.

“We are about to realize our dreams, Ruonail.” Narfrom took
Ardra’s hand and pulled her close to his body. He encircled her waist and
spread his hand over her middle. “We will have everything with no bloodshed, no
sacrifice of maidens, no pain and suffering, if you just get the child. Go
now.”

With but a moment’s hesitation, as if he now understood that
Narfrom could harm more than just the Tolemac maidens, Ruonail swept out of the
chamber.

No pain, no suffering. Not true.
Vad would suffer.
But his face was a study in serenity. No one but she would know how he must
wish to bargain anything but the contents of the dagger.

Ruonail was gone only a few minutes. Ardra tried to run to
him, but Narfrom shoved her back. Ruonail kept the child between himself and
Vad as he walked her to where Narfrom stood.

Narfrom held out his hand, the gun once more visible, aimed
at the child’s small blonde head. She was avidly taking in her surroundings,
unaware she was in danger.

“What use is the map to you? You can’t go on a treasure hunt
yourself,” Gwen said. She took a step toward Narfrom, but he raised the gun.

“The map alone will be worth a fortune—millions—to certain
collectors back home.” Narfrom turned to Vad. “Are you ready?”

But Vad directed his words to Gwen. “Be easy. It is just a
piece of paper, not worth a life. Come take the map to him and bring me the
child. His weapon may be deadly, but I am counted an excellent shot with mine
as well. I would gladly wager my shot against his.”

Gwen’s legs felt rubbery as she withdrew the dagger from its
sheath. She felt the full weight of the gun’s power trained on her back. The
evil in the chamber was thick, like smoke. Only here by Vad could she breathe
normally. Heat emanated from his body. She quickly twisted off the handle,
withdrew the map, and thrust the dagger back into its place.

How small was the paper; how big were the consequences for
her warrior. Her warrior. Although his eyes were on Narfrom, he smiled. “Hand
it over, Gwen.”

She offered the child one hand and gave away Vad’s future
with the other.

A tremor shook the building. Ozone filled the air.

Gwen looked at Narfrom, who smiled and gestured her toward
Vad with his gun barrel. “Do you remember what I said, Gwen? Power and design.”

Narfrom touched his embroidered belt. From one moment to the
next, he disappeared.

Gwen threw herself into Vad’s arms.

“Thank the gods he did not harm you,” he murmured against
her hair.

His body was flame hot. All the desires and fears of the
last few hours ran through her. She locked her arms about his waist and
hiccupped to keep back her tears. He touched her shoulder. “We must see to the
others.”

She stood back and looked up into his eyes. “You’re burning
up with fever.”

“Nay, it is just you, woman. You are the one who is warm.”

“Wait! I don’t think we’ve seen the last of him.” She looked
at Ruonail and Ardra, who were standing and staring at the spot where Narfrom
had disappeared, as if frozen into ice like the glacier outside. “How do we
explain him?”

Vad shrugged. “I do not want to. I just want to be gone from
here. Let them puzzle out his magic.”

He held out his hand to the child. She took it, and, still
glancing over her shoulder to the spot where Narfrom had stood, she followed
him,. Ardra led her father after them. Ruonail stumbled along like a broken
man.

Gwen wrapped one arm about Vad’s waist. “I have to tell you
what I learned from Narfrom. It might make a difference someday,” she said
softly, so the child would not be privy to the tale. “Narfrom is from my world.
He’s obviously figured out a way to come and go from there at will, but that’s
not what’s important. His name in my world is Gary Morfran. I feel so
incredibly stupid not to have thought of it. My only excuse is tiredness,
finding myself here, not really believing… Never mind all that.”

Vad watched her face pale to the color of her gown. “Steady
yourself. You are just frightened. Save your tale until we have settled this
little maiden.”

How she hated to wait. They saw Ruonail up the steep steps
to his chamber. He barely acknowledged his daughter as she told him she was
taking Liah away. Gwen watched Ardra leave her father and take the child by the
hand.

No one challenged them as they went down to the lower
levels. A murmur of prayers floated on the air; voices could be heard singing.
No sentries challenged them. All was silent, as if the guards had deserted the
fortress along with Narfrom.

Every step in the oppressive, dark corridors told her
Narfrom might be gone, but only temporarily. Would the amount a collector might
pay for an ancient map be enough to satisfy him?