The Pharoah Contract

Long past midnight, he heard the scuff of careful feet just outside the cage, and he suppressed a laugh of hysterical relief. But the steps seemed lighter than Denklar’s could be, and a voice too soft and melodious to belong to the innkeeper spoke from the darkness. “Wuhiya? I’ve brought a water reed. Here.”

A slender tube slid through a chink in the iron, and Ruiz took it gratefully. “Thank you; you’re kind.”

“It’s little enough,” said Relia the doxy. “I’d do more if I could, but what help could I be? Here’s another one; keep it till you need it.” She slipped another reed through the chink.

Ruiz snapped off the end of one reed, and allowed the slightly sour watery sap to drain into his mouth, which was dry as ashes, both from the effect of the day’s deprivation and from terror. The fluid tasted wonderful, and for a brief instant he was entirely content. The sensation dissipated almost as swiftly as it had come. “Relia,” he said, leaning against the cold iron, peering out. “Tell me, have you seen Denklar this evening? How did he seem?”

Relia sniffed. “He always seems the same, but tonight? I can’t say. He’s gone; no one knows where. The cooks were most put out, what with all the extra custom tonight, yokels in for the killings and so forth. Very odd, if you ask me — Denklar’s always on hand when silver’s to be had.”

Ruiz’s spirits plummeted again. Where was the innkeeper? Had he run away, for some reason beyond Ruiz’s comprehension? Or was there something else wrong, something that hadn’t yet occurred to him? A conviction grew in him that the latter explanation was somehow the true one, but his day in the cage and his witnessing of the coercer’s Expiation had combined to slow his wits in some subtle way. He pounded his forehead with his fist. Think, Ruiz Aw, he exhorted. But nothing came.

“Well,” said Relia, in a voice of soft regret. “I’ll have to go in now; the night’s cold and I’m not dressed for it.”

“Wait!” Ruiz cast about for a purposeful course. Relia constituted his only avenue of action. “You said you’d help if you could.”

“Yes. But what could I do?”

“Could you bring me something else?”

“Perhaps. The cages aren’t watched at night. No one is clever enough to unlock them, from the outside or the inside.”

“Good. Good. In my room, the one I slept in before I went to the keep… I left a packet of religious articles, hidden in one of the bed’s pipes. Could you fetch it to me?”

Relia stirred uneasily, and Ruiz sensed her reluctance. “I’d do the Lord in the eye, if I could do it and suffer no grief,” she said. “I hate him, as would anyone with a heart. But I don’t care to Expiate my feelings here.”

Ruiz put his head against the iron, striving for a voice of calm persuasion. “No, no. Nor do I.”

“I guess not. I don’t want to see your tall pretty body all opened up on the stage; a waste that’ll be.” Relia chuckled throatily, a sound which under the present circumstances Ruiz found a bit grotesque.

“As you say,” he said fervently. “Can you bring it?” She drew a deep breath. “I’ll try. Why not? How big is it, this packet?”

“Not large; it will fit through the chink, though you might have to hand it in a bit at a time. It’s wrapped in a brown oilcloth, and has a number of little metal fetishes, which mean a lot to me. Don’t play with them,” Ruiz cautioned. “They’re sacred.” The bits in the packet, if activated inadvertently, might easily kill Relia before she could bring them to Ruiz.

“I’ll try,” she said again. She started to leave.

“Wait! Have you got a bit of wire about you? A pin, perhaps?”

She seemed to consider. “It’ll do no good, Wuhiya.”

“It’d occupy my time; I’m too cold to sleep.”

“All right. Here’s a rusty hairpin, which no one could say was mine if you’re discovered with it. Still, if I can’t bring your fetish bag… promise me you’ll push the pin out the chink before it gets light. Or if you decide to open a vein, wipe the blood off before you push it out, so they’ll think you used your teeth.”

With trembling fingers he took the pin, which was long and slender and springy, and perfect for his purposes. “I promise.”

* * *

Ruiz struggled with the lock for an hour, until his sore fingers were numb with cold and exertion. But the lock remained obdurate; its apparent crudeness concealed wards of unusual cleverness. Finally he desisted and admitted defeat. Not surprising, he thought, that the locks should be good, on a world full of magicians. He lapsed into a brief period of despair, but then he recalled that Relia would be bringing his tools soon. Soon.

He kept hoping, until the Pharaohan sky began to grow light.

* * *

Stegatum woke early, and tradesmen clattered back and forth across the square, rousing Ruiz from his apathy. He found that he looked forward to the heat of the day after the icy night; such was the shortsighted instinct of the body.