Donuil's face clouded. "That's a simple exchange. It would work without me, Commander Merlyn."
"Aye," I nodded. "It is true, it might, but I doubt it. They have more advantage now than such an arrangement would give them. There's too much risk for themselves involved as things stand. The advantage of gaining you might make the difference in their thinking." I paused, thinking, then shrugged. "At any rate, I can think of nothing better. But even so, I would trust neither of these creatures. If Memnon should think to rule his magic kingdom alone, he might destroy my aunt and leave Caspar to me. That will be your service to me—to kill the animal if you so much as think he dreams of harming her. I will provide you with a knife, hidden in your clothes."
"I see." His brow had cleared, but the frown returned immediately. "But what then? What if your exchange should work, without treachery? I have no wish to share Lot's hospitality."
"Why not? He would send you home."
He looked at me in silence for a moment and then nodded. "So be it. I will help you."
"Good. But you will have to be produced in chains. It would not look convincing otherwise." He shrugged and I addressed his guardian. "Centurion Rufio, take Donuil to the cells and shackle him securely—and don't be too gentle, he has to look the part he will play. Give him back his own clothes, too."
When they had gone, I approached the doors to the Armoury, waving the bowmen away, and hammered on the panel with the hilt of my sword. There was silence for a few moments and then a voice shouted from behind the door, asking me what I wanted. I demanded to speak to either Caspar or Memnon and told them who I was. More time passed, and then the doors opened slightly and the deep voice of Caspar, the swarthy, short-legged swine, asked me what I wanted. I spoke to the crack between the doors.
"First, hear what I do not want. I have no wish to waste time haggling with you. You have the mistress of this house there among your hostages. She is very old. If she is already dead, then so are you and everyone else within those walls, hostages or no. If she is still alive, show her to me and I may let you buy your worthless lives in return for hers."
I heard a hurried, whispered conversation, then, "This woman. What is she to you?"
I gritted my teeth. "She is my father's aunt."
Silence, then, "Your father's aunt? But your father is dead, Caius Merlyn." My heart thudded in my chest and I thought, I know that, and so are you, you stinking lump of Egyptian dung. "But you are still alive," the voice continued, "And so is your aunt."
I swallowed hard. "Prove that. Show her to me."
Again, a whispered conversation, then, "Wait. You shall see her. But any tricks and we all die, the old woman first."
I waited.
Eventually the doors swung slowly open and there, in the middle of the hallway, held firmly by a man who stood behind her with a knife at her throat, stood Luceiia. She had blood on her face from a cut on her forehead, her hair hung down in rat tails and her clothing was in tatters, but her eyes were open and- she stood erect and defiant. I called to her, asking if she was unhurt, and she answered in a remarkably strong voice, "Kill them all, Cay! Don't-" Her captor's hand clamped over her mouth and the doors slammed shut.
Moments later they opened again, very slightly.
"Well," the voice said, "As you see, she is alive. Now what was that about selling us our lives?"
"Come outside, damn you," I barked. "I will not converse through a closed door! No one will harm you as long as that lady is in your power. Her life and safety are worth more than all of yours combined." I turned deliberately and walked away to stand in plain view in the courtyard with my back to die door.
About five minutes passed before the doors swung open again and Caspar and Memnon emerged together and stood blinking in the smoky afternoon light. I stood unmoving, forcing them to approach me. Caspar stepped out boldly, a sneering smile on his face. Memnon, the more timid of the pair, looked around him nervously as they approached.
They stopped about two paces short of me and I faced them with loathing seething inside me. Caspar, naturally, was the first one to speak.
"Our lives. What are they worth to you?"
"Not a pile of pig droppings."
"Then let me rephrase my question. Your aunt's life— what is that worth to you?"
"Your lives."
"That's better. There are fourteen of us, in all."
"No, there are two of you. The others are already dead."
"You must be mad, Caius Merlyn. Why should we surrender our bodyguard, when we have the old woman? She is obviously worth more to you than all of this." Caspar gestured disdainfully at the smoking ruins that surrounded us.
"Be careful, animal," I hissed at him. "My father's blood is still wet on your stinking hands, so do not push me too far. My aunt has had a long and useful life and would be the last to blame me for sacrificing the short time she has left for the privilege of crucifying you!"
That penetrated his reptilian armour. He blinked like a lizard and cleared his throat, accepting my resolve. "You cannot really expect me to sacrifice my men to you with no advantage?"
"No advantage? You call life no advantage?"
"You quibble, Merlyn. Our lives we have, as long as we hold the woman and you hold your rage in check. But that latter part concerns me. Your rage, I mean. I would be a fool to trust a man who burns so visibly with hatred of me. Therefore, I will keep my men for the safety they offer me against your blood lust."
"No!" I was practically spitting at him, yet fighting hard to keep my hatred under control. "I have said I will not bicker with you. Give me the woman and you two go free and there's an end of it. You have my word." -
"Your word?" There was no trace of a smile or sneer on his face now. "I trust in no man's word. You will have to do better than that."
"Then what do you want? I want my aunt alive and safe, and free to live until she dies naturally. She has earned that. In return, I am prepared to forgo the pleasure of killing you two with my own hands, or even of having you die by someone else's. So, if you will not accept my word, what will you accept? Name your terms. If they are within reason I will grant them. I can say no more."
Caspar paused before answering. Then, "What we require is some way to ensure that there could be no treachery." He cut me short before I could vent my outrage. "You know what I am saying. Neither of us will ever trust the other. Memnon and I would like to leave this place alive, with our companions—"
"No! They die."
"No, they do hot!" His voice was low. "We have need of them—a need to bring them home safe to Lot of Cornwall."
I made my voice as flat as possible. "Lot is dead. He was killed on the plain below."
Caspar laughed in my face. "Lot? Fool! Lot never left Cornwall. He sits in his stronghold there, awaiting news of his campaign. He sent another in his place, to wear his armour and inspire his army. No, Merlyn. Lot is too clever to be killed by the likes of you."
I heard the truth in his voice and my heart hardened even more against this "king" in Cornwall. When I responded, my own voice was pitched as low as his.
"There is nothing more loathsome than a cowardly commander who skulks in safety while others do his fighting for him. And this is your lord? The master you must appease by bringing your sneaking killers safely home?"
"Aye, Caius Merlyn." He was smiling that hateful smile again. "Such is the way of the servants of kings and princes."
My heart leaped in my chest, but I spat on the ground and made to turn away in disgust, before pausing as though a thought had just occurred to me. I turned back slowly, squinting at him speculatively and seeing a flicker in his eyes that told me his mind was racing, trying to anticipate what I had in mind. "What do you know of Hibernia?"