Conspiracy

Chapter 9

Noph awoke in the dark palace dungeon. He slouched against a wall of stone, water covering him to his chest. He could smell the sullen ash of doused torches, and could hear the gentle drip of wet ceilings. He saw little. The only light in the place sifted faintly down from the spiral stairs at either end of the corridor.

"Ingrar?" he muttered stupidly. His voice was raw. Coughing spastically, Noph spat out salty foam. "Is anyone else alive down here?"

A woman's voice came from a nearby cell. "Who's there? Who is it?"

More water rattled in Noph's lungs. "Who are you?"

"I am Eidola Neverwinter," said the woman.

Noph struggled to his feet. "I'm coming. I'm coming." He steadied himself on a wall, then lumbered along the flooded corridor. "I've got to find a key." He dragged the toe of his boot, searching for With a splash, he tripped atop a guard's body. Noph struggled to one side and felt for a ring of keys. Finding it, he ripped it free from the man's belt.

"I'm coming. I'm coming."

Noph reached the cell door where he had heard the voice and started fitting key after key into the slot. His hands jangled excitedly.

The lady is within. I will rescue her, he thought. Another voice stirred in the back of his mind. What if Entreri is right? What if she is an agent of the Unseen? What if she is a monster?

A key clicked. The cell door swung open. Noph gulped and stepped into the breach. With an effort he quashed his doubts. Surely the paladins were right. Surely Khelben would not have given them this commission if he'd had any doubts of Eidola's bona fides.

In the deep darkness, he could see little. Then he felt a warm wave of relief wash over him. On the far wall, he made out a feminine outline-long hair plastered to thin shoulders, a curve of hips, lean but strong legs. The woman's arms were held out to either side by massive shackles bolted into the wall, and her legs, submerged in the fetid flow of Aetheric's shattered tank, were bound together by a broad band of iron.

"I'm Kastonoph Nesher," Noph said stupidly. To make matters worse, he realized he was bowing. "Your husb-your groo-Piergeiron sent me."

"Thank the gods," the lady replied. Her voice was as raw as his. "Get me loose!"

"Right," Noph said, glad she had given him a bit of direction. He stepped forward, keys jingling in his hand. "You wouldn't know which of these keys-"

"Just hurry," the lady implored.

"Right," Noph replied again. He edged up to her, selected a key, felt the bond on her right arm until he located the slot, and tried it. No good. The key was too large. He tried the next. It slid in, but didn't engage the lock.

"Kastonoph?" she said.

"Yes?" he replied, startled.

"I was just trying to remember your name."

"My friends call me Noph." He continued with the keys. "Ah, got the first one!" He flung back the shackle.

Eidola's arm dropped loosely free. She let out a hiss of pain. "Lift it! Lift it!"

"Lift what?"

"My arm! Now!"

Noph fumbled in the dark. His hand brushed the lady's side, smooth and warm in the harsh coldness. He found her arm and raised it.

"Ah, that's better," she gasped out. "I've been this way for days. We'll have to ease them down slowly. In the meantime, try the same key on the other lock."

"Yes, milady." Still holding her free arm up, Noph stretched across her body to the other shackle. He couldn't quiet reach.

"This is a dungeon, not a boudoir. Touch me if you have to!"

Noph drew a deep breath and leaned against her. The key slid into the shaft-thank Tyr, and the lock clicked. Noph hurriedly flipped open the shackle.

"Up! Up! Lift it!" she growled as her left arm fell.

Noph caught the limb and lifted it. "There-how's that?"

"Better," she whispered, panting.

"Um, Lady Eidola, I'm going to need to lower your arms to get your legs free."

He could sense her jaw clenching. "All right. Slowly- slowly-lower my arms to rest on your shoulders."

Noph nodded. He felt himself blush. What would Piergeiron say to see his young protege pressed against his bride like this, lowering her arms into an embrace? Noph took a step back and drew the lady's arms inward and down. She groaned and arched against him, her limbs trembling. At last, her arms rested on his shoulders.

"All right. That wasn't so bad," the lady sighed. "Now, just as slowly, kneel down to open the shackle on my legs."

"Yes."

Stiffly, Noph slid down into the cold, black waters. Eidola's arms dragged along his descending shoulders, and she moaned. The flood lapped at her knees. He could see her wavering reflection in the water, caught and shattered by ripples and waves into a thousand Ei-dolas. Noph settled beside her feet and allowed himself a huff of air.

Get hold of yourself, he thought. What's wrong with you?

The cold felt good on his feverish body. He reached beneath the chill surface, ran his hand from her delicate feet to her ankle and onto the first gentle rise of her calf. The stout iron casement was just above. Still clutching the key that had released her hands, he found the slot and slid the metal rod gently in. A click answered the turn of the key, and the iron shackle swung open.

"You're free!" he said.

Clutching his head now, Eidola tried to step from the wall. Something at her midsection tugged. "Damn. That's right. There's one more restraint-this wretched chastity belt."

"Chastity belt?" Noph sputtered. "Of all the barbaric-Surely Piergeiron hadn't fitted you with-"

"No, not him. My captors. What good is a kidnapped virgin unless she remains one?"

"B-But why do you want m-me to remove your ch-ch-chas-?"

"Calm down," Eidola replied. "It's enspelled to keep me from running away, from disobeying my captors. The buckles are in back."

Dutifully, Noph rose from the black flood. His clothes clung uncomfortably against him.

"Hurry up!" Eidola begged.

Noph reached around the lady's warm, smooth hips and just inside her outer shift. He gently felt along her spine for the buckles of her belt.

"Your fingers are cold," she said.

"I'm trying to hurry," Noph replied.

He found the buckles and breathed a nervous sigh. Numb fingers worked at the leather. The first strap popped loose, flinging up a fingerful of water. Noph startled, almost hollering. As he fiddled with the next two buckles, he tried to make conversation. 'You know, I used to be a paladin. Now I'm a pirate."

Eidola's voice was chilly. "Why would a pirate want to rescue me?"

"Oh, the others don't. They want to kill you. They think you're an agent of the Unseen."

"And what if I am?"

His cold fingers paused, the last buckle of the belt halfway undone.

The golden lasso, he thought. The lasso of truth. It will show what you really are.

A splash came in the hall, interrupting his thoughts. Then another splash, and another.

"Hurry," she whispered. "It's Lord Garkim!"

Noph drew his hand away from her hips and reached for the lasso. He undid the catch and felt the loops drop into his hand.

"Hurry!" she breathed.

He slipped the lasso over her head… and everything changed.

Lady Eidola was gone.

In her place was a scale-skinned gray beast with large, empty eyes.

A greater doppleganger.

Next moment, she was a convulsing crocodile.

The monster's scaly midsection burst the final buckle, and the crocodile fell on Noph. Its teeth flashed in the darkness and fastened on his chest. With a terrific splash, it dragged him down beneath the icy murk.

Interlude

Condemnation

I'm mesmerized by your warm, warm flesh, cold monstrosity beneath.

You're the third lady… there was Aleena Paladin-star she is spirit, an angel hello, Aleena… there was Sharessa No-Angel a creature of flesh carnal… there is you, infernal woman demonspawn.

You're all the same; I'm mesmerized by you… powerful, elegant, mysterious, unattainable… all the same.

You can't be held… no man, not even a kidnapper, can hold you.. can't be held… no fingers, no claws, nothing in all of creation not even a golden, unerring lasso… you can't be held… I can't hold you… are killing me for trying

… your teeth meet between my ribs… hello, Teeth.

You hear something… where are those nice warm teeth now where is your muscle-back… I drift in cold ink… you are done with me you held me and are done… I am dead already.

I have not climbed the stormy tops… I have not slain a dozen foes… I have not slain even you… maybe they will still shoehorn me into the dinghy and toss the comet-torch to flare up and say there goes another piece of the great pirate Blackfingers Ralingor… because after all I've now had just about everything that was soft in me torn away.