CHAPTER 88

“What did you do to her?” I ask, nodding to Meriana.

“A harsher variation of what she had me do to a host of innocents. It’s not deadly,” Malakei adds.

“Malco, get behind me,” Father says in a hiss. “Now.”

Malakei raises an elegant red eyebrow, then slowly places his hands behind his back.

“I assure you, Medrein, I mean neither of you harm. Like I said, if I hurt you—”

“Behind me, Malco!”

I tremble at the shout, and Malakei shuts up. The eyebrow arcs higher.

“We’re going to leave this place,” Father says. “If you move from where you are, I swear to all the gods that I will skewer you.”

“You can barely stand, Medrein,” the man says drily. “And even if that weren’t true, I wish to speak to Malco. You said you passed through the White Door, did you not?”

“Silence!”

Father doesn’t give him a chance. Before the man can continue, he grabs my arm and pulls me roughly along, around the spot in the room Malakei is blocking. I look up to his black and jagged pupils inlaid in cat’s yellow. Watching me, waiting.

“Father,” I say.

“Come on.” The grip on my arm tightens. “If this woman didn’t warn anyone, we still have a chance. Don’t dally.”

“Father, wait.” I try to stand still. I might as well have tried to hold a falling tree in place, I realize as I’m pulled off my feet, dragged along into the corridor. With he danger passed, my war mantle has reverted to its resting shape, and sweeps the dusty floor of the room. My eyes meet the white of Maid Meriana’s. She’s immobile, drool falling off the corner of her mouth, moaning to herself. “Wait!”

It’s like he doesn’t even hear me. He kicks a piece of rubble and it rebounds off the wall, breaking in two. Malakei watches us leave impassively. No, not us. Me. His eyes remain fixed on mine as I struggle against Father’s might.

Malco, wait!

Rue. I left him in the lock.

“Father, I just have to—” I touch his arm, but there’s no relenting there. His strength is inexorable.

“No time,” he mutters.

Scared, hungry eyes watch us from the shadows of the cells. My feet touch the jailer’s blood and gore and draw a line through his remains.

“Father!”

He turns then, but not because of my shout. It was the steps, the soft slap of meat on stone that draws his attention. I turn as well, to find Malakei is right behind me, hand extended. Medrein nearly yanks my arm off the socket getting me away from the ex-prisoner.

“I warned you!” he bellows. “I told you what would happen, you bastard—”

“Father!” I try again.

“Medrein, I’m not—” Malakei begins.

“I told you if you tried to lay a finger on him, I’d—”

“Medrein!”

Hearing me shout his name makes him pause. His grip slackens and I twist away from it, coming between the two men. Medrein’s expression speaks of anger and confusion. Had I ever called him by name to his face?

“He’s a dangerous man,” he attempts.

“He’s just trying to return my Familiar,” I interrupt.

Malakei nods. Illuminated by the man’s white-glowing palm, Rue vibrates intensely. I touch his thoughts, scared and confused, halfway to turning into something bladed right there and then.

“Your Familiar?” Medrein mutters, like the idea of me having something of that nature is as foreign to him as walking on the moon. “I… We have no time. We must leave—"

“Our way out is assured,” I say. “I have an artifact. It brought me here, and it can take us out.”

“And a very useful one he is,” Malakei says. “I thank you both. I’ve seen many connections between Champions and lesser creatures, but not with one such as this. What is it?” His air is curious, academic. The dusty paleness of his face seems to shine from within as he focuses on Rue, the eyes nearly aglow.

“His name is Rue,” I say, extending my hand. “That’s all I know.”

Malakei hesitates an instant, keeps Rue in hand a second more than strictly necessary. But then a smile breaks out in his face, and my Familiar is dutifully returned to me. I can feel his relief in my thoughts.

“Sorry,” Malakei says. “After all these years, sometimes I still cannot contain my curiosity.” His eyes narrow. “You know what that is like, yes? You went through the White Door, after all, but you don’t strike me as a Paladin, a Priest, or any other of her other offerings.”

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Her, I think. He means Arbiter. A moment later the full weight of what Malakei is saying hits me.

“You’re an Inquisitor too?” I ask.

Malakei’s bright white smile flashes again.

“A long time ago, that was my first reward as a Champion. A long time.”

“Malco.”

Medrein is standing right behind me. For a moment, thinking of the implications, the wealth of knowledge and guidance behind those strange, alien eyes, I forgot even my father’s threatening presence looming, ready to pounce.

“You have your Familiar. We must go.”

I turn back to Malakei.

“Come with us,” I say. “The artifact can take three people—”

“No,” Medrein and Malakei say in unison.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Malakei says after a beat. “Or desirable,” he adds, with a flicker of his eyes towards my father.

Medrein deflates a little when he realizes there is agreement between them. That the man he hates does not even wish to come with us.

“Besides,” Malakei continues. “Isn’t there someone you’d rather take than me?”

My mouth opens a little. Does he know that just now I remembered that I must save Hilde? That the thought of leaving her behind after what Malakei did to her Patroness is too risky to even consider? Is he reading my mind, or did he see it all before when he wounded me with his toothy hand?

Whatever the answer is, I can’t help but marvel at the extent of the man’s powers. Is this what an Inquisitor is meant to be? Every alien thought laid bare by a touch and a trickle of blood?

“And about the servant Thomas? He was brought here, to you?”

Malakei nods slowly.

“He and others, do this was the only I… aimed at someone named Lysander. His orders were to subdue the elf when a certain order was given and warn his handler. More than that I cannot say. But if Lysander went missing, I would start with Thomas.”

I nod. It confirms what I already knew.

“How will you make it out?” I ask.

“I’ll find my way,” Malakei says. The chain still dangles his neck until it almost touches the ground. But the man doesn’t seem preoccupied. “Do not worry.”

“Malco, come,” Medrein interrupts, finally winning over his scruple. “We must.”

I turn to leave. Now he’s right. If we’re going to reach Hilde… A map rolls open in my mind’s eye, leading from the catacombs to the underground private rooms. The path isn’t long, but it crests the surface for a corridor. And the keep’s ground level at this hour… With any luck, the Godtouched will be at dinner, and we’ll only pass servants. We could run, break into Hilde’s room, and a second later be out of the keep, out of Red Harbor.

Impossible? No. Far from it. But risky, considering we are in Valkas’ territory. I’ve long mentally slotted the man into the ‘unpredictable’ category. The scary thought that he was the one to send Meriana to check on the cells, to make sure I hadn’t made my way to Medrein, intrudes in my mind. I—

“Please,” says a hush of a voice. “Don’t leave.”

It’s one of the prisoners. Bald head and sunken cheeks, nearly invisible in the gloom.

My eyes pass from him to the rest of the cells, where about six people total are imprisoned. Medrein paused halfway up the short flight of stairs leading up to the surface. Could I… Could I—no. That would make it impossible.

“I’m sorry.” I hear the words coming out of my mouth as if from behind a wall. “I can’t. They will catch us if we all try to run, I…”

“Please,” the man repeats. He’s much older than me, but he trembles all over, like a leaf. “Don’t leave me. Not with him.”

“The jailer is dead.” I gesture to the bloody mess in the middle of the corridor.

“Not him.”

I follow the flicker of his eyes. Not to the dead body, but to Malakei, standing impassively, alone, watching us. I notice that all the prisoners have become much quieter since the prisoner emerged. They weren’t so cautious before. Not even with imposing Medrein. There is something in the man’s eyes. A fear so deep, so absolute, that even calling to me seems to have drained his reserves. He is a mouse in an open field, still and quiet, trying to wish the owl away. Begging me not to abandon him is the reach of his capabilities.

What did he do to them?

I turn back to Malakei.

“I’m going to free these people,” I say.

The yellow of his eyes flashes – or do I imagine it. Then Malakei bows and steps aside. I look up to Medrein, who hesitates. Every instinct is telling him to run, to take the chance that’s offered. But still, he swallows and nods. For some reason it surprises me, that even he isn’t able to turn his back. Is it weakness or strength that allows him to descend the stairs again?

“It will be hard,” Malakei says. “Your artifact cannot be powerful enough to allow eight to escape. Nine, with your friend.”

“They’re not using the artifact,” I say as I mentally ask Rue to turn back into the lockpick. With an easy twist I turn the first cage’s heavy lock. The bald man inside opens his eyes wide, but doesn’t take a step towards freedom.

“Then how?” Medrein asks.

“Something I heard the jailer say.” I tell them both, tell them all, I turn another lock. The portly woman inside is quicker, not so afraid of Malakei. The wound on her forehead isn’t as deep as the rest.

“Thank you, young man,” she says. “How would you have us leave?”

I grimace at her. It’s not a good plan by any means. But it will have to do.

I don’t even need to search for the chute. Malakei points it out for me, a heavy grate on a corner of the room that can be pulled up out of the ground, revealing a narrow hole into deep, fetid darkness. A rusty ladder peeks just past the lip of the chute.

“Sewers,” I say. “That’s what the jailer meant.”

Though none of them seem pleased, one by one, the prisoners descend, the first carrying the bowl on which rests the heatless magical flame. The three of us Champions watch them go with varying levels of apprehension.

Down below, the light is a vague suggestion. The prisoners have started to follow whatever current they found, as Medrein suggested.

“Do they have a chance?” I ask the room in a low voice, hoping it doesn’t carry.

“No,” says Malakei, at the exact same time Medrein says ‘Yes’.

That seems about right.

“We should leave, Malco,” my father says. He repeats my name too often, making sure the world knows he’s addressing me exclusively. “If you’re set on finding your friend, we should leave now.”

I nod, and take a last look at Malakei.

“Do you want me to remove the chain from your neck?” I blurt out. It seems a silly parting gift, but I can’t help myself.

Malakei shakes his head.

“Thank you, but no. It will add to the effect when I leave.”

“How will you leave?” I ask.

The man’s easy smile comes again.

“Through the front door. Just waiting for my escort to wake up,” he adds with a nod towards still paralyzed Meriana. “But since you asked…”

The man reaches into Meriana’s rich robe, now strewn about the cold flagstones. He opens it without the least restrain or sense of decorum, rummages around for a bit, and pulls out a piece of writing paper, folded in four.

“Here,” he says. “She always carries one of these when she comes down here. I think it might bring some light into that other objective of yours. I remember how it is.”

The Secret, he means.

Hesitating only a moment, I reach out to take the paper. And that’s it. I hurry after Medrein, already walking up the steps.

“It was a pleasure, Malco,” Malakei calls after me. “One I hope I’ll have again.”

I look back at him as I ascend the steps. Naked from the waist up, as white as the White Door, illuminated only by the flickering candlelight. And then he passes out of sight, and we walk into the Black Sword Keep.