The High King's Tomb
Page 171

“It was Lord Mirwell who cut off his hands!” Immerez said.
“So it was. And you knew his pleasure at doling out such punishments, which is why you could not do the honorable thing and admit you were the one to scuff the saddle.”
“Would you?” Immerez demanded.
Beryl raised her eyebrow and smiled. “I would not have found myself in that position in the first place. I knew what kind of a lord-governor we were stuck with and I did not serve him. But this is not about me or my choices. It’s not even about my brother or the old Lord Mirwell. This is about you, some questions you can answer, and this hatchet.”
Immerez sweated profusely now, his bald head glistening with droplets.
“I think among those rumors you heard about me circulating the keep,” she continued, “was that I was ruthless, pitiless, and cruel.” She bent down beside his ear and whispered, “The rumors are true.”
She then stepped back and said, “I’ll start with the fingers on your remaining hand, and if I receive no satisfaction, I will cut off the hand and work up your arm in slices. I’ve irons heating over the fire outside to cauterize the wounds.”
True fear finally awakened in Immerez’s eye and he strained against his bonds. “You said the king would decide my fate!”
“And so he will. It does not, however, preclude my use of certain questioning techniques. A pity for you, for you will not be allowed to die, and you will want to by the time I’m through.”
Immerez’s nostrils flared. “Should have killed you!”
“Yes,” Beryl said, “you should have.” She sat in her chair, crossed her legs, and settled the hatchet on her lap. She gave him her most pleasant smile. “Ready to answer some questions?”
ANSWERS
When Karigan awoke the next morning, she felt about a hundred years old despite the mug of willowbark tea Ty provided her to help dull the pain. Every muscle felt wrenched and every inch of her skin was scraped raw or bruised. Ty also produced a satisfying breakfast of flatcakes and sausages he said were from Immerez’s own stores. Her stomach was about the only thing that wasn’t sore and she was happy to fill it, but it hurt just to lift the food to her mouth.
When she finished, Ty carried in a bundle of clothes. “Try these when you feel up to it,” he said. “I’m afraid the riding habit you were wearing had to be cut off you.”
Even blushing hurt, causing throbbing in her tender head. When Ty left the tent, however, she forced herself out of bed, groaning with every little movement. She took care of her needs, and though she’d been supplied with a warm bucket of water to wash up with, she’d been instructed not to get her bandages wet. That was hard when her hands were swathed in linens. What was she supposed to do? Stick her head in the bucket? But, no, she had bandages there, too.
Finally she decided just to remove the bandages on her hands, so she unwound them, gingerly pulling them off where they adhered to her lacerations. Some of the scabs tore off and started bleeding again. Tears filled her eyes when she dipped her hands into the water, they stung so bad. When she finished and dried off, she had trouble rebinding her hands, but somehow managed with the help of her teeth. Willis or Ty would have to do better later.
As for the clothing, it appeared Ty and Osric had scrounged through their saddlebags for uniform parts. From this she was able to pick out an oversized shirt, baggy trousers and a belt to tighten them with, as well as a shortcoat. Even if none of it fit just right, it was far and away better than a corset and habit, and seeing herself in green again lifted her spirits.
When she stepped out of the tent she found herself in a new world. Snow blanketed the summit, and beyond heavy clouds cut off the view to the surrounding landscape so that she felt trapped in a shifting, vaporous fortress.
Weapons huddled around campfires, draped in black cloaks and clasping mugs in their hands. They looked like graveside mourners, heads bowed, speaking quietly. Others stood guard over a dozen or so of Immerez’s men, who appeared to be bound hand and foot. Yet another pair of Weapons guarded a tent.
When they saw her, a few hailed her with greetings and she smiled and waved. She was about to ask after Ty and Willis when Ty appeared from another tent and trudged through the snow toward her. His breath puffed upon the air and she shivered with the cold.
“Glad to see you up,” he said when he reached her. “Do you feel ready for a meeting?”
She nodded.
“This way then.” He led her back across his tracks toward the tent he emerged from. “Osric has already left with the news.”
“Already?”
“It seemed best to send him as soon as possible.” He halted in front of the tent and raised his hand to keep her from entering it. “Just one moment. When you were rather out of it, you called me Rider Perfect. What…what did you mean by it?”
Karigan’s head started throbbing again. “Um, I…I don’t—”
“Karigan? Is that you out there?” came an inquiry from within the tent.
She let out a breath of relief. Saved by Willis! “We’re here,” she said, and she entered the tent, very conscious of Ty right behind her.
Inside she found Beryl, Willis, Lord Amberhill, and another Weapon Karigan knew, named Donal, all sitting around a small table in the center. They looked up when she entered, and Willis rose and rounded the table.
“Our sister-at-arms should not freeze.” He removed his fur-lined cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders.