Watt-Evans, Lawrence - Annals of the Chosen 01 (84 page)

That
same
female
voice,
muffled
by
the
doors,
squealed
in
surprise.

Behind
him,
farther
down
the
corridor,
Breaker
heard
other
doors
slam
shut,
and
the
rattle
of
locks
and
bars
dropping
into
place.
The
distant
candlelight
vanished,
plunging him
into
near-total
darkness;
the
only
thing
still
visible
was
the
thin
line
of
light
above
and
below
his
sword.

Suddenly
furious,
Breaker
raised
one
booted
foot
and
kicked
hard;
the
doors
burst
open,
and
he
found
himself
staring
at
two
young
women.
They
stood
in
the
corridor,
staring back
at
him—and
at
the
long,
sharp
sword
in
his
hand,
its
tip mere
inches
from
the
nearer
woman's
throat.
One
of
them
held
a
lit
lamp,
but
otherwise
their
raised
hands
were
empty; a
wooden
bar
thumped
to
the
floor,
obviously
just
dropped.

Two
of
the
Wizard
Lord's
maids,
obviously.
They
were thin,
dark-haired,
attractive
enough,
wearing
knee-length
white
dresses—and
clearly
terrified.

"What's
going
on?"
Breaker
demanded,
stepping
forward and
kicking
the
bar
away.

One
woman—little
more
than
a
girl,
really—whimpered. The
other,
the
one
with
the
lamp,
said,
"Don't
kill
us!"

"I'm
not
planning
to,"
Breaker
replied
angrily.
"What's
happening?"

"We
were
...
we
were
supposed
to
close
and
bar
the
door,
that's
all,"
the
whimperer
said.

"To
trap
you,"
the
other
added.
"We
weren't
going
to
hurt you."

"That's
right.
The
Wizard
Lord
said
that
if
we
killed
you, he'd
beat
us
to
death
with
his
own
hands."

And
with
that,
understanding
burst
upon
Breaker.
It
all made
sense
now.
The
Wizard
Lord
had
made
no
serious
attempt
to
kill
them,
had
not
fled
from
his
keep,
had
not
done any
of
a
dozen
things
that
might
have
delayed
them
longer, and
of course
had
not
agreed
to
resign,
because
this
was what
he
had
wanted
all
along,
ever
since
he
realized
they could
not
be
dissuaded.
The
Wizard
Lord
didn't
want
the
Chosen
dead,
because
that
would
destroy
his
own
magic,
but
taking
them
prisoner—
that
would
suit
him
very
well
indeed. They
would
be
unable
to
harm
him,
unable
to
pass
their magic
along
to
anyone
else.

The
Thief
might
have
been
a
problem
to
hold,
with
her magical
skill
with
doors
and
locks,
but
she
had
not
come— had
the
Wizard
Lord
arranged
that
somehow?
Perhaps
he had.
And
splitting
the
party
with
that
arrow
in
Babble's
thigh had
almost
certainly
been
carefully
planned;
it
would
obviously
be
easier
to
trap
three
people,
rather
than
six
or
seven.

Everything
suddenly
made
far
more
sense,
and
the
Wizard
Lord
seemed
far
more
sensible,
than
Breaker
had thought
just
moments
before.

But
even
so,
the
Wizard
Lord
had
misjudged,
had
put
too much
faith
in
his
maids
and
his
own
cunning,
and
Breaker was
still
free.
What
about
the
others?