He had not confessed. He had not been charged, either, but obviously that was only a matter of time now.
28
ELEAL HAD ENDURED A SECOND DAY IN HER LONELY prison, plucking chickens. Her fingers were worn raw. She had done the work conscientiously because anything else would have just brought her more hunger and perhaps a beating. She had been given boiled chicken and chicken soup to eat. She never wanted to see another chicken ever again.
Tomorrow the festival began and she would not be there. She would never see another festival, never sing for a real audience again, never be an actor. Worst of all was the certainty that she could not stand many more days of this torment without breaking. Soon she would kneel and kiss Ylla's shoe, just to beg for some company, someone to talk to.
She hadn't done so yet, though.
She had cried herself to sleep.
She awoke in darkness. It was not like the time the reaper had wakened her. She swam up from sleep slowly, reluctantly, annoyed by an exasperating noise. She tried to pull the skimpy blanket up over her ear and succeeded only in exposing her toes to the cold.
There it came again! Something tapping.
Angrily she lifted her head.
Tapping at the window!...
She scrambled to her knees. She could barely make out the squares of the casement. There was something out there, though! Tap, tap! Not just wind in a tree.
A momentary fear was followed by a rush of excitement. Still clutching her blanket around her, she stumbled to her feet and stepped over. The end of a rope was swinging against the glass: tap! tap!
She struggled with the hasp in frantic impatience and hauled the little casement open. She leaned over the sill and peered up, but she could see nothing. Clouds scudded over the sky, their edges tinted with blood by Eltiana's ominous red. No other moons were in sight, and that was ominous—only the Lady!
A wicked breeze blew through Eleal's hair and chilled her skin. The rope slithered up a few feet and then dropped down in her face. She grabbed it and pulled it inside the room with her. Fumbling in the dark, she established that there was a loop tied in the end of it. It was not a noose, but the association of ideas made her uneasy. She pulled in the slack while she tried to work out what she was supposed to do with it. Light faded as Eltiana vanished behind a cloud. Was that an omen?
Then the rope reversed direction as the unknown prankster on the roof hauled it in. She hung on, thinking, Wait! Wait! I need some time! She was dragged to the window. She hung tight, refusing to let this opportunity escape her. The rope slackened.
Obviously someone was signaling intentions. She pulled the noose over her shoulders and scrambled up on the sill. The gap was small, even for her, but she was agile. She twisted around and wriggled, until she was sitting on the hard ledge, with most of her outside and only her legs inside. She clung very tightly to the sides of the opening. The wind tugged at her robe, which was no warmer than a nightgown would have been and definitely not a garment she would have chosen for midnight acrobatics two stories above a very hard-looking courtyard. Better not to think about that! Her face was against the stone above the lintel. She waited for the pull, feeling all knotted up inside as she did on a mammoth, crossing Rilepass.
The noose tightened on her, and then stopped before it had taken her weight. Teeth chattering, she peered anxiously up at the dark clouds. The cornice was barely visible, but then a faint glimmer showed over it—a face? Checking that she was doing what he wanted? She dared not shout, and neither did he. She hoped he had big, strong hands and arms. She thought he waved. She assumed it was a man. No woman would be mad enough to try this. She waved back. He disappeared.
She was going to freeze to death if he didn't do something soon. The cold and the discomfort of her perch were making her eyes water. The rope tightened under her arms, cutting into her back. She pulled herself up on the line and pushed herself out with one foot, prepared to walk up to the roof. She did not look down. For a moment a pinkish glow heralded Eltiana's reappearance, but then it faded behind the clouds again. Hurry! she thought. Before the goddess sees!
The rope slackened. Taken by surprise, she tipped backward with a squeal of alarm. She swung free and banged her knees into the wall below the window. Now she realized she was expected to walk down the wall, not up. It was cold and rough against her bare toes. She tried to forget that awful drop below her.
Her rescuer must be immensely powerful, for he was letting the rope out very evenly and smoothly. She saw the next window coming and avoided it—lucky the openings were so small. Then there would be another window on the ground floor. There was, and it was larger, but at last she felt cold, cold cobbles under her feet. With a gasp of relief, she leaned against the wall and muttered a prayer of thanks to every deity she could think of. Except the Lady Eltiana in all her aspects, of course.
Several rooms away to the right, a single window at ground level showed light. The rest of the temple slept. If the goddess knew of this violation of her sacred precincts, she had not yet roused her guardians.
Eleal slipped free of the rope, which continued to descend and collect at her feet. Shivering violently, she began to gather it up in coils. Good rope was expensive. She should have thought to bring her sandals. A scratching noise made her look up—and jump back in disbelief as small fragments of stone rattled down on her. A huge shape showed against the sky, dark against dark, and two eyes glowed faintly. The dragon began to descend the sheer face of the wall. The noises became dangerously loud as its claws struggled for purchase. She moved farther out of the way, having no desire to be struck by a falling dragon and no chance of being able to catch one effectively. She had always known that dragons were skilled climbers, but she had not known they could scale a sheer masonry wall.
A dark forked tail came into view, swinging vigorously from side to side. It felt the ground and then swung up out of harm's way as the hindquarters followed. A very dark tail! Of course this could only be Starlight, and her rescuer must be T'lin himself—what other dragon owners did she know? She resisted a desire to call out to him. Clawed feet reached the cobbles. Starlight balanced on them for a moment, his frills extended and flapping for balance like small wings. He tipped around and down and settled on all fours, puffing. His eyes glowed faintly green, and blinked.
Eleal ran to him and looked up. “T'lin Dragontrader!"
"No,” said a whisper. “But his dragon. It won't hurt you.” The rider had twisted around to untie the rope attached to the baggage plate at his back. It had been Starlight who had lowered her down the wall.
"Of course he won't. He's Starlight."
"Oh. Well, up with you!” He reached down.
She hesitated only a fraction of a second. Whoever he was, she had already trusted her life to him. She accepted the hand and waited for the heave. It came in the form of an ineffective tug. She realized that the hand she was holding was far too small and smooth to be T'lin's.
"Mmph!” said the whisperer angrily. “You're too heavy. Choopoo!” The dragon twisted its neck around and blinked at him. “Choopoo!” he repeated. “Oh, Wosok! I mean."
Starlight sighed and obediently folded his legs, sinking into a crouch.
"Now!” said the rider. “Step on my foot. Squeeze in here, in front."