Текст книги "The Sword and the Dagger"

Автор книги: Ardath Mayhar

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

30

Ardan found himself at the outlet of the ventilation slot while the sun was still high. Hanse, behind him, was silent, and Ardan recalled suddenly that the Prince had a tendency toward claustrophobia. He felt a twinge of guilt at bringing him through such a tight place.

Then he chuckled.

"What's so funny?" asked Hanse.

"I was feeling sorry about getting you into such a smothery position, when I remembered that the alternative was the detention cells. Have you ever taken the tour? It's enough to make your gorge rise. I wonder why your what-ever-it-is-great grandfather built them as he did."

Hanse sighed and crouched beside Ardan in the narrow passageway. "Old Lucien was a complex character, I suspect. He had, among other things, a mania for the antique. Not what we call antique, mind you, but the really ancient He was an able administrator, a wonderful organizer, but he had several important screws pretty loose, indeed. He made his detention cells just like the dungeons in the ancient records. Odd thing. We've never used them much for any but important prisoners who were in danger of their lives."

As the sun set, Ardan watched the line of light work its way along the wall. Only a shoulder's width of space marked the slit on the outside wall, he knew. It was decorated around its edges with carved stone and looked like a high-set window.

"Well, I'd rather be here than down in those ghastly deeps," he said. "It'll be dark before too long. Then we can get onto the roof and take off."

The sky darkened gradually. The slit of warm gold was gone, and the sky turned to lilac, then to gray, and then to midnight black. Stars sprinkled the expanse when the two fugitives worked their way from the slit and began climbing the sheer wall.

Lucien had liked stone-carving. His decorations, old as they were, were still firm, and they gave finger and toeholds to his descendant as Hanse and Ardan made their painful way up the wall toward the roof. From time to time, they froze in place, as the thud of giant feet announced the presence of a 'Mech guard on the paved terrace below.

At the top of the wall was an overhang. That posed a problem, for there wasn't firm enough purchase to allow one of the men to swing his foot over the ledge above them.

They clung there for many minutes, trying to think of a way to go upward without falling from the wall. Then Hanse whispered, "You move toward me along this stringcourse. Yes, like that. Now. Set your near foot onto my knee. I have it braced between the stone and the wall. See if you can get high enough to put an elbow over the top."

Ardan moved as directed. Once he had his foot set firmly on Hanse's knee, he found that he could give a spring upward. It took him far enough to catch the lip of the crowning ledge with his right elbow and his left hand. In a moment, he was over onto the roof. Anchoring his body against a chimney, he then reached down.

"Hanse! Can you reach me?" he hissed.

A big hand slapped into his palm. Another hit his other hand. Heaving with all his might, Ardan swung the big man sideways to clear the overhang. Hanse's leg hooked over the lip. Then he was beside Ardan on the roof.

"Whooo!" the Prince said. "I also hate heights, in case anyone wonders. But I have a new liking for my many-times-great Grandpa. If he hadn't decorated his palace like a wedding cake, we'd never have been able to make it."

They crept around the bulk of the chimney stack and started toward the blister that sheltered the air car. The closure opened to Hanse's thumb, and the two pulled the light craft free onto the roof. While Ardan was checking it over, Hanse unlocked the stubby wings and put them into vertical takeoff position.

"Very pretty," a voice behind them said. "We knew you would probably come here."

Cleery stepped from behind another chimney stack, accompanied by six heavily armed guardsmen. "Ekkles was really puzzled by your disappearing trick. You will tell me how you accomplished that, before we are done."

"I prefer to deal with Ekkles than you," said the Prince. He sounded calm, but Ardan felt the undercurrent of frustration in him.

"Impossible, I'm afraid. Ekkles has accompanied Hanse Davion to New Avalon. An unexpected emergency demanded the presence of the Prince. You are now in my hands." The note of gloating in the man's voice startled Ardan.

He had known Cleery for years, ever since the man had become Davion's Maître of the Household on Argyle. Neither of them had suspected that there might be a power-mad sadist lurking beneath that suave and polite exterior. A shiver moved through Ardan's body. What had they gotten into now?

Cleery took no chances. He had the guards shackle Ardan to Hanse, and their feet linked on short chains so they couldn't possibly run. Then, the Maître stepped forward and snapped his fingers. One of the young pages brought him a bag, from which he took two thick robes, like those worn by inhabitants of some desert worlds. They had deep hoods.

Once the captives had them on, neither could possibly have been recognized, unless an observer were to stand face to face with them and look directly into the shadowy recesses of the hoods. Cleery was definitely no fool, Ardan decided.

The Maître had, of course, ordered that both men be disarmed immediately. Cleery himself had run his hands down the arms, sides, and legs of his prisoners to make doubly sure. Then the guards led them down and down beneath the huge palace, into the dank corridor that led into Lucien's genuine, old Earth-type dungeons. Even the steps they descended had been artificially shaped to hint at millennia of wear.

The bottommost corridor ran crosswise. Rats scampered away from the handlight of the guards. Drips sounded, echoing hollowly through the maze of tunnels leading from the main artery. The smell was not pleasant, and it got worse as they moved deeper into the complex.

"Here we are," said Cleery, mock cheerful. "The Royal suite. Designed, no doubt, for Pretenders. Suitable enough. We'll even leave you together to grieve over the failure of your plot."

Ardan felt sure at this moment that Cleery was part of the conspiracy. How else could the false Hanse have gotten into the Palace and into the royal quarters so easily without being detected?

"Cleery, I never really knew you," said Hanse quietly. And now that I'm beginning to, it's certainly not a pleasure."

The Maître smiled, his fat lips stretched obscenely over his square white teeth. "I think that you will now have time to plan all sorts of vengeful schemes. And that is all you will have—Time. It can break the hardest will, I am told. It will be interesting to put the theory to the test"

Hanse did not reply. They watched the heavy door slam to. Bars were slid across from the outside. Locks snapped, the harsh echoes resounding crazily.

A torch had been left in the corridor, and its dim flickers gave only the barest illumination to the cell, the light making its way through some slits in the stone wall. Ardan examined those at once, but they were obviously for the purpose of placing food and water within reach of prisoners, without taking the chance of opening a door.

"No hope there," he said, testing the solidity of the stonework. "I think it must be cut out of the bedrock the house sits on."

"Damn Lucien!" said Hanse. "That's exactly what it is. I've read his journals. He was very proud of his authentic dungeons, from which no prisoner would ever escape." He shivered in the dank, chill air. "Cold in here, isn't it? At least we can be thankful for these havy robes."

Ardan nodded. With his mind racing frantically to think of some way out of an impossible situation, he hadn't even noticed the cold till now. He shivered, too, hoping the torch would hold out for a while. He didn't like to think about how it would be when they also were faced with total darkness. Ardan huddled against Hanse in a corner. Evidendy, no prisoner had ever been kept in the place, for there wasn't even straw to cushion the hardness of the stone floor.

At first, Ardan and Hanse had expected that their captors would kill them immediately. As long as they remained alive, the two of them were a grave threat to the plot to replace Hanse Davion with an imposter.

Instead, the days passed, empty, dark, cold, and interminable. Hanse and Ardan no longer knew whether it was night or day, though Ardan had pulled the wire from a pocket charm the guards had not removed, and he was using it to scratch out the passage of time in the stone wall. There wasn't much else to do, except think. But when the routine suddenly changed, Ardan would gladly have gone back to the torture of boredom.

One day, several guards came into the cell, seized Hanse roughly, and dragged him away protesting. "Hanse!" Ardan screamed, grasping the bars and pressing his face against them as the footsteps retreated down the corridor. When the silence descended once more, Ardan dropped to the floor, overcome by his sorrow and despair. He was sure Hanse had just gone to his death.

What seemed like hours later, Ardan again heard heavy footsteps approaching down the stone corridor. "My turn now," he thought grimly. But the guards merely opened the cell door, and threw Hanse bodily back into its gloom. Ardan crawled weakly over to his friend, and found him drugged senseless. It was a relief that Hanse was still alive, but what had they done to him?

He did his best to make Hanse comfortable, holding the Prince's head on his lap, and laying his own robe over him for extra warmth. The two of them sat that way for hours, Ardan with eyes closed, his back propped against the damp stone wall. When Hanse mumbled something finally, and stirred as though trying to get up, Ardan restrained him. "Hanse, no...you must rest now and stay warm..."

"Ardan...you..." Hanse murmured. "They took me..." he said with great effort. "Cleery was there...and some others...doctors maybe...Gave me something...an injection..."

"Not now, Hanse," Ardan said. "Later...you can tell me later."

But Hanse was never able to remember anything more than that The guards came back for him frequendy now, and when they returned him hours, even days later, Hanse was usually so drugged or his mind so numbed from exhaustion that he might as well have been. Whatever they did while Hanse was semiconscious, it would take him several days to break out of the mental fog and confusion. Then the guards would come for him once more, and the whole cycle would begin again.

Huddled like an animal in the cavelike damp of the cell, Ardan could never be sure whether Hanse would come back or not. Though Hanse could never remember anything afterward, Ardan was sure their captors were interrogating him, using mental taps and drugs. In spite of the nicks he etched into the wall, Ardan had no idea whether it was day or night or how much time had passed since they had been led down into this dungeon and the horror of their uncertain fate. It was small comfort, but he was beginning to understand what was going on, at least

When he and Hanse had confronted the false Prince, what baffled Ardan was how the imposter could have known so many details about the past...tilings no one but he or Hanse could have known. The betrothal to Melissa, for instance, or the long-ago day when Hanse had almost drowned or the gift he had given the child Ardan one birthday. Now it was starting to make sense. For one thing, the imposter had notknown about the starbird, which was a story that Melissa had told Ardan afterhe had been rescued from Liao hands. While he had lain delirious in that hospital on Stein's Folly, the Liao doctors must have been probing his brain with drugs and mental taps just as they were doing with Hanse now.

Ardan was sure that his captors were systematically probing Hanse Davion's mind for every last memory so that they could transfer it all to their puppet Hanse, and authenticate him beyond the shadow of a doubt. These men were as desperate as they were ambitious, and so Ardan was certain neither he nor Hanse would survive long once they had all they needed.

31

Sep found Jarlik alert but fuming at the delay in getting to the business at hand. "We have to know where Ardan is before we can spring him free or help him escape from Argyle," she said.

"If he's been captured, he's in the dungeon. And if he hasn't, hell be in our old hideaway in the woods. But I've already looked there, so it's the dungeons, Sep. And we can only get into those with 'Mechs. Ardan can sneak around the Summer Palace like a mouse, but I don't remember the architects' plans the way he does."

Ref, rejoining them, agreed with Jarlik's assessment. "There's no word of anyone being captured around the palace. Nothing out of the ordinary. The only person who was suspicious was Fani Lettik. Awhile back, she saw someone in the kitchen area who shouldn't have been there. The man told her he was a gardener investigating a defective grillwork behind the shrubbery. But when she asked the Maître if it had been reported to him, he denied it."

Ref looked at Sep, his eyebrow quirked. "And nobody else saw that man at all. When she described him, he sounded terribly fishy, too. Flat, greasy-looking hair. Very dark goggles that hid his eyes. A blue coverall, which was proper for a gardener. But she said he looked as if he had a swollen tooth. His face was lopsided."

"Ardan," said Sep. Jarlik nodded.

"Put something on his hair to change its look. Stuffed wadding in his jaws. Got hold of some goggles someplace to hide those amber eyes and those sharp cheekbones. No doubt about it. He got into the house. Then Hanse Davion changed his mind about staying his usual time on Argyle."

"I'll bet anything you name that Hanse and Ardan are down below the Palace, locked away in those barbaric dungeons old Lucien had built. Dammit!" Sep pounded her fist sofdy against her uniformed knee.

"Wait a minute, Sep. Think about it..." said Ref, who was sitting on a fallen tree trunk and gazing idly at the high canopy of leaves overhead. "Where's the problem? The Prince is gone, right? And he's taken most of the guard with him. All that's left around the Summer Palace in the off-season is a skeleton crew. I say we go in tonight and get them out"

Sep thought for a momenet, then grinned suddenly. "Good thinking, Ref. You're right...Tonight's the night. I've got the security codes to disarm the Palace defenses, for one thing, and the retinal scanners'll recognize me as head of the Guard. That'll get me and Jarlik past the automatic defenses easily enough. In the meantime, Ref, you'll go over to the old fuel depot. I bet there are still enough combustibles lying around there for you to set off quite a big bang. And while you're over there drawing off most of the Palace Guards by making as much noise as possible, Jarlik and I will spring Hanse and Ardan from the Palace."

Jarlik chuckled deep in his throat. "Any 'Mech who doesn't get diverted will wish he had."

Sep nodded. "But what about getting into the lower level, where the access corridor is?" she asked the big man. "I've never been on personal duty for the Prince. I usually pulled shifts at training the Guard, not at guarding the Royal residence."

"Well, I've learned a lot of the ins and outs from working with Ardan so long. Back in the service area, there is a cul-de-sac serving the doors to the laundry rooms, the kitchens, the catering services, and the butler's pantry. At night, it's deserted down there." After sweeping aside dead leaves to clear a space, Jarlik sketched a rough diagram in the dust.

"There's the service floor. Here's the corridor that gives access to the lower level where the dungeons are. There"– he sketched a rapid series of crossbars—"are the ventilators. Even prisoners have to breathe. We can batter through those easily. I see no problem, unless some hotshot 'Mech guard tries to liven things up."

It seemed to take a year for the sun to set. The forest rustled and whispered about them. From time to time, some small animal peered from branches above or from the snakelike roots of one of the big trees, but the trio sat so quietly that the creatures soon lost interest and went about their own business.

When the sky was black and the treetops lost against the starry expanse, the three mounted their 'Mechs. Ref headed for the fuel depot, while Sep and Jarlik moved across the vineyards and men the public gardens that stood just outside the Palace walls. As expected, the two passed through the automatic defenses with no problem.

"Well, getting in was easy," Sep said into her com, "but getting out could be another problem entirely. Denek gave me access to the emergency DropShip, but who knows how we'll get to it. Much less how we contact the pilot he suggested. This may be our last burst of glory, old friend. Let's make it count!"

They strode closer to the Palace, which was dark except for a few glimmers of light from windows in the servants' wing. That startled Sep until she realized that she had always seen the Summer Palace ablaze with the lights and activity that swirled around the Prince, with all the comings and goings that attended his affairs of state, visitors, and minions. Now those same tiers of rooms stood in darkness.

Just then, an explosion boomed to the east of them, and a huge fireball rose into the night sky.

"Looks good," said Sep, and she heard Jarlik's grunt of agreement, as they halted at the edge of the courtyard that led up to the Palace. Standing in the shadows, they waited, hoping most of the guard 'Mechs had gone to investigate the explosion, according to plan.

Though they had no way of knowing, the fact that everything was so quiet close to the Palace seemed a good sign. "Looks like we're home free," Sep said, "but let's wait another minute. I don't see anything, do you?"

"Coast is clear," Jarlik replied.

"All right, let's move while we've got the chancel" she said, and the two began striding forward on the giant legs of their 'Mechs. At that moment, something caught Sep's eye to their right...something coming around the western flank of the Palace. It was a Waspon patrol. She was about to warn Jarlik, when she heard the Wasppilot sounding an alarm over the general frequency.

"Halt and identify yourselves!" the Waspchallenged, as Sep and Jarlik continued moving forward. The guard then lifted its right arm in an accusatory gesture that spat fire from its medium laser.

"Hostiles on Palace grounds. Engaging!" they heard him report frantically over the crackle of the general frequency. The two heavy 'Mechs dodged, and the shot missed.

"Concentrate fire!" Sep yelled into the com. "Right leg! Give him everything you've got." The combined fire from their lasers, autocannon, and SRMs was deafening, almost blinding. Then they saw the Waspfall to the ground, its right leg totally disintegrated. The huge machine was now effectively out of commision.

"One down," said Sep, "but he's put out the warning now, and it won't be long before the rest of them show up. We better get done with this now!"

They sped down the deserted walks toward the palace. With the main Guard gone, very few troops lived in the barracks. It was more economical to have the entire staff living in the big house, which had to be heated and cooled, whether tenanted or not.

No one challenged them until they came abreast of the kitchen wing.

"What is going on here?" came the cry.

Sep groaned. Fani Lettik had a habit of showing up when she was least wanted. Confronted with the two giant forms of a WarHammerand a Crusader,however, Fani froze in her tracks, an expression of terror on her face. As Sep and Ref continued to lumber forward, Fani let out a scream, then turned and ran. It was the first time Sep had ever seen Fani intimidated, and it had taken two heavy 'Mechs to do it.

Rounding the corner, the two 'Mechs stalked on into the cul-de-sac, which was just where Jarlik had said it would be. Sep kept watch as Jarlik set one of his armored feet against the ventilation grid. It, too, was solid stone. With a mighty swing, he kicked forcefully and struck the rock with a resounding crash. There was the rattle of stone chips falling away into the darkness below.

Again Jarlik kicked. More stone fell, and a gap opened in the grill. Sep chanced a flash of light from her torch. The wall was beginning to give, sure enough.

She aimed her laser and gave the spot a long blast. Hissing and spitting, the beam melted the rock into taffylike puddles that dripped down the sides of the hole. Another blast, and the hole caved in bodily, leaving a huge pit in the paving that floored the niche.

"I'll go," she said to Jarlik. "You just keep anyone from coming in after me."

Sep dismounted, leaving her WarHammerready for instant use when she returned. The stone was still hot, and she had to wait for a moment before she could spring down into the blackness below. But lights were coming on inside the house now. Voices cried out. They would have company long before she was ready for it.

She dropped through the hole and rolled with practiced ease, coming upright in darkness. Hitting the switch of her belt light, she looked about. It was a nasty sort of place, damp and chilly, and seemed to be a warren of tunnels and cells. She ran along toward the interior of the block. "Ardan!" she shouted.

There was a moment of silence. Then, muffled with stone and distance, came a welcome reply.

"Sep? By God! Sep!"

She homed on the sound and ran, watching closely as she set her feet If she tripped and knocked herself out, it wouldn't help any of them. Rats scuttered away in front of her, and she could hear their cluttering behind her. Her skin crawled.

"Ardan!" she called again, pausing at a three-way corner.

"Here!" His voice was nearer now. Down the right angle. As she rounded the bend, she could see a guttering torch in a socket on the wall. Before a door halfway down the rank stood a water can and a mess tray.

She pounded up to the door. There was a metal rod slipped through loops, holding it closed. In addition, the inset lock looked formidable.

"Stand back!" she yelled.

There came a grunt from inside that she took for assent. She aimed her sidearm laser and melted the lock out of its metal housing. As she kicked the rod back with a booted foot, the door swung open.

Two bearded faces blinked at her in the brilliant light of her torch. She saw at once that their eyes weren't accustomed to light, and so she quickly killed the beam. The torchlight seemed terribly dim by contrast.

Hanse and Ardan looked terrible. She stepped back and looked down at the rations outside the door. Moldy food, slimy-looking water. Untouched.

"They were starving you?" she asked, her tone furious.

"Trying to soften us up. Do you have any clean water? That dirty stuff is all they gave us, and precious little of that," Ardan croaked.

Sep reached for her hip canteen. No pilot ever mounted his 'Mech without a supply of rations, no matter how tame the occasion. She had on her uniform, because of the special nature of the mission, and so its hip flask was ready to hand.

"Here. But drink slowly. First rule in the Survival Manual."

While they talked, a clatter sounded in the distance. Footsteps on stone...They'd better get out fast.

"This way," she said. "We made a new door into your dungeons, Your Highness. I hope you don't mind."

Hanse grinned, his lips cracking. "Lead on," he told her.

They came to the hole well ahead of their pursuers. Jarlik had his hatch open, listening for them. Reaching his armored limb down into the hole, he lifted up first Hanse, then the other two.

Sep mounted her 'Mech. Ardan climbed into the tight cockpit behind her. Hanse had already done the same in Jarlik's.

"Better run. There's armor coming," Jarlik said over the com.

The metal feet of their 'Mechs pounded across the paved terraces, the grassy spaces, the flower beds and borders. When they came to the wall, Sep blasted a portion of it down, and then she and Jarlik hammered through the debris without slowing their strides.

Through her scanners, Sep could see that the Summer Palace was abuzz with activity. Lights were on all over the residence, and red bursts of laser fire spat against the night She suspected that the guard 'Mechs were mistakenly attacking each other. That was fine. Nobody had followed their rescue team, and their tracks wouldn't be immediately obvious until it got light.

She tore along beside Jarlik, heading for the port, where they were to rendezvous with Ref. If they were lucky, nobody would suspect it to be their destination until it was too late. Then she had a terrible thought.

"We haven't got our pilot!" she yelled into the com.

There was no answer for a moment, then she heard Jarlik's familiar gruff tone over the com.

"Never mind that," he said. "His Highness says he can pilot the thing. Just get him there in one piece!"