Still leaning on Guric, Argalath took a moment to catch his breath, then said something to the men in their own tongue. Guric had only a basic understanding of the Nar language, and this one had a different sound to the words, the accent strange. He caught only trouble and the word signifying a question.
"Nyekh," said the guard on the right, followed by a short string of words.
"What did he say?" Guric asked.
"I asked if she had given them any trouble," said Argalath. "He replied that she has not, that she has not even spoken."
Both guards bowed, then one stepped aside while the other removed a long iron key from a chain around his neck. He fitted it into the lock, twisted-the old mechanisms tumbled with a creak that set Guric's teeth on edge-then stepped back.
Guric stepped to the door and pushed it open. Beyond, all was darkness.
"It's black as pitch in there," said Guric.
"We don't mind," said a voice from the darkness, and Guric stepped back. The voice was strong but cold, and although it was utterly inhuman, there was a timbre to it that still held hints of Valia's voice. Guric felt a shiver go up his spine, and his mouth suddenly felt very dry.
"Here, my lord." Argalath had lit a torch from a brazier the guards used for warmth. He stepped around Guric into the room, holding the torch high and averting his eyes.
The light pushed back the shadows, revealing a small cell of stone walls and floor, with old clumps of dirty straw the only flooring. The roof was old timber beams and planking of the roof.
The creature-one glance and Guric could not think of it as Valia-was on the far side of the cell. She crouched against the far wall, still in the fine robes of her burial, though the skirt had been torn to shreds. The skin of her legs and one arm was pale as bone, but blood covered her other arm and face, for in one hand she held a rat, its legs dangling and entrails spilling from where she had torn out its underside with her teeth.
Guric felt his gorge rise. He clamped one hand over his mouth and took deep breaths through his nose. But that only made it worse, for he could smell the reek of blood and offal-and all around it, something worse. It reminded Guric of an animal stench. An animal of the cold and dark places.
"Where is my brother?" she said, then buried her face in the rat's entrails for another mouthful.
"He has other duties now," said Argalath. "As we agreed."
She swallowed and smiled. There was nothing human or even bestial in the expression. It was merely a movement of muscles and dead skin pulled tight over the teeth. "And what are my… duties?"
"Your time has not yet come," said Argalath.
"And when will my time come?"
"When your brother has fulfilled his promise."
"Hm." She looked down at the dead rat in her hand. "That might take some time. The tall one there… this one's body means something to him?"
"It does. We must take great care of it."
"Then I must be fed, or this shell will decay. This"-she dropped the rat and stood-"dulled the edge off my hunger. But if I have to feed off vermin, the tall one here will not like what it does to this body, I think. I will require more fitting food."
Guric fled the room.
Outside the cell, the door shut and locked once again, Argalath put a hand on Guric's shoulder. The lord of Highwatch leaned against the wall, stared out the window, and took in deep draughts of air.
"I'm sorry, my lord," said Argalath.
"Did I… did I take her-" Guric shook his head and cursed. "Its. Did I take its meaning correctly?" "I fear so, my lord."
Guric groaned. He swallowed and took in another deep breath before turning to face his chief counselor. "There is no other way?"
Argalath shook his head. "She will not need to be fed often. We could withhold as much as possible, but I fear the damage that might do to your wife's body. The body itself-forgive my bluntness, my lord-is still dead, animated only by the spirit occupying her flesh. That… life-force must be fed, lest the body decay."
"Fed… people?"
"Yes. But is the return of your beloved Valia not worth the sacrifice?"
"This is not sacrifice," said Guric. "If it were me, that would be sacrifice. To take another's life… that is murder. Again. More murder."
Argalath shrugged and at least had the good sense to try to appear uneasy. "I know of no other way, my lord."
Guric turned back to the window. His voice hardened with resolve. "You are certain this hunting party of Kadrigul's can find the girl?"
"Quite certain," said Argalath. "We have one who will find her for us."
Remembering Soran's eviscerated corpse and that horror's talk of summoning her brother, Guric shuddered.
"Show me."
Argalath leaned on Guric for their descent down the stairs. As they took their first steps, Guric said, "You said this happened because a few of our Nar lied about killing Hweilan?"
"Five of them, my lord," said Argalath. "And I do not know that they lied. They might have been mistaken."
"Find those five, Argalath. They will be that thing's first dinner guests."
"As you command, my lord."
CHAPTER TEN
Hweilan knew the preferred torture methods of the Creel. Scith himself had taught her. If they wanted a victim to take days dying, their favorite method was to bury the victim up to his neck, then slice off the eyelids. But digging a hole in the frozen earth was hard work, and Creel were notoriously lazy. Thus, this was their so-called "summer torture."
The rest of the year, their favorite method was to hamstring the victim, sever the tendons at elbows and shoulders, cauterize the wounds, then wait for the wolves to do the rest. Seeing Scith covered in blood and the Creel heating sticks in the fire, Hweilan feared the worst. Feared she might be too late.
The only bow she had, she could not draw, and she had no arrows. Only her knife and the kishkoman. And there were five Creel down there.
Then it came to her. Creel, for all their faults, were still Nar, and the life of any Nar warrior was his horse.
Get the horses.
She knew the beasts would go mad near her. Horses always did. But that might help. It would certainly take the Creels' attention off Scith. If she could get close enough to cut the lines, the horses would flee. If she could keep out of sight, most of the Creel would go after the horses.
If…
She stashed her father's bow under the thick leaves of a bush, then set off. She was within a short bowshot of the horses when they began to snort, stamp, and pull at their picket line.
One of the Creel said, "What is that?"
Hweilan pulled her knife and ran. Crouching low, she pushed her way through the brush. The horses went mad, screaming and pulling at the single line of rope to which they'd been tethered.
She could hear the Creel even over the screaming of the horses.
'… horses!"
"What is it?"
"If that wolf is back…"
Hweilan reached the tree around which the picket line had been tied. The horses reared and pulled, their eyes rolling back in their heads.
From where she stood, she was in full view of the Creel, all of whom had turned to see to their horses. They saw her.
"Hey!"
She leaped forward and brought her blade across the picket line in a swift swipe. It snapped, and the horses surged away.
"Charge!" Hweilan screamed. "Loose arrows! Get them! Get them!"
Her ruse worked. Every Creel reached for weapons, their eyes scanning the trees.
Hweilan turned and ran. It worked. She couldn't believe it. But it worked.
Creel knew the open grasslands better than the castle chambermaids knew every cell and hallway of Highwatch. But they didn't know these hills. Not like Hweilan. And they were unused to the trees and thick underbrush.
Tired, cold, and hungry as she was, Hweilan still managed to lose them. By the time the Creel realized that there were no arrows hissing from the trees and no soldiers bearing down upon them, Hweilan was up in the rocks again, where there was little grass, but lots of the thick bushes whose roots cracked the stone and grew branches tough and pliable as wire. They left few tracks but gave good cover. The first place to hide she found, she took. She couldn't see their camp, burrowed as she was among the thick evergreen leaves. But she could hear them shouting, some apparently going after the horses while others came after her. None came close.