We climbed the stairs one at a time, with Steen behind me. He offered to go first but took no persuasion to be second. He was after all, only a mere man, not even a soldier. I gave him one of my spare daggers and he took it with a repressed shudder.
“Don’t stick me with it by mistake,” I said and he looked at me as if I had made a joke. We kept rising, there were no chambers off the stairwell in this tower and when I strained to see ahead, all I saw were the stairs and the walls. Not even arrow slits to let in the sunlight. We climbed in a sort of twilight, parts of our rise were lit by guttering torches, one placed on every landing. They burned with a cold smokeless flame, a magical light not fueled by wood or oil.
“It seems we have climbed higher than a normal tower,” I said. “How many floors is it?”
“I have been up many times to serve him, Corbel and each trip was different. Sometimes, I climbed only three or four, sometimes as many as ten flights.”
“You can come and go without the fire?”
“I never tried. Only when I was summoned. Can you use my memories of the room?”
“No. You would forget some minor detail and it would not be where we intended to go. I have to see the place so I can draw it.” We saved our breath for the climb and in another four flights, we surprised a guard who heard us long before we saw each other.
“Steen?” he called down and the manservant passed me to stand in front and block the guard’s view of me. Which would only have been as a shadowy thing because of the elven cloak. “What are you doing, Steen? Did Lord Webster call for you?”
“No, Rinlon, he did not,” Steen answered and glanced at me. I knew that guard and came forward so that he could see me. Threw back the cape and his eyes widened in wonder. He was speechless. Sputtered and was finally able to speak.
“You’re not dead!”
“Not anymore,” I cocked my head, my hands on both leaf daggers. “Will you let us pass?”
“Depends,” he grinned.
“On what?” I asked softly, my grip tightening, ready to cast the blades out.
“On whether you came here to rescue the Queen or join the Master.” His eyes became flat and dark as he waited for my answer.
“I came to kill him,” I said flatly. “First and foremost, I am going to kill him.”
“He’s warded the Tower. No one gets in or out unless he lets them in. You felt the tremors?”
I nodded. “I suspect it was Merlin’s attack trying out a few spells. I need to get in the room where the Queen is.”
“The only way is if he lets you in, Corbel. And he will let you in,” Rinlon said. “He raved like a maniac when you died, he gave you a King’s funeral.”
“He almost gave me a funeral pyre. Lucky I woke when I did,” I said dryly. “Otherwise, I’d be ash and a smoky ghost.” I hesitated. Steen put his hand on my shoulder, it was warm.
“I know you fear to be in his hands again, Corbel but it is the only way to get inside. You know he would punish me if I asked for entry before he calls me and he hasn’t called for me in days.”
“I know,” I said softly, gritting my teeth so hard my jaw ached. “I’m not afraid he will break me again, I’m afraid he will see how much I loathe and despise him. My hatred is a bright burning flame I can’t hide.”
“Your hate is something he would cherish for it feeds his need to subjugate,” Steen said. “It’s the lack of fear he will notice.”
“Oh, I still fear him, Steen,” I returned. “My soul, if I had one, would be praying to the gods for courage.”
“Of course you have a soul,” both of them said vehemently.
I shook my head in denial. “The Master took mine when he killed me the first time. I saw him do it. As my last breath left my body, a thing like a shadow emerged. Glowing, ethereal and beautiful, he caught and trapped it in the globe he wears at his neck. It was part of the spell he used to bring life back to me. Mine is only one of many. He told me of others, Iowin, the famous Black Elf who was a master swordsman, Leonnora, the Sorceress Witch that almost took Oberon. The thing in the Black Armor that nearly bested Corwin although I’m not rightly sure if it had a soul as it was already a shade. He has a score tucked neatly in there.”
“Are you sure, Corbel?”
“There is a part of me missing. My memories and my emotions. All that’s left is fear, hate and rage,” I said advancing another step. Rinlon moved aside and we saw the first chamber off the landing, a small room set up for guard duty. He had a chair, small trunk, a table with pitcher and bowl, his weapons and nothing else.
“Privy?” I raised an eyebrow and he flushed.
“Just let go down the stairs,” he mumbled. “Besides, I’m only here four hours and then another guard does his shift.”
“What’s above?” I asked.
“Death,” he answered. I looked at Steen.
“Can you hide him until I come back?”
“I can dress him like a guard and when my shift ends, take him back down or he can go back on his own and hide,” Rinlon mused. “Next shift isn’t due for another two hours.”
“Stay, Steen. That should be enough time to do or die.” I pressed their hands. “I salute you. If I am not back in two hours, don’t panic. Give me a day.” Ran lightly up the stairs with the elven cape around me, the hood up and a spell surrounding me with a shield of ice.
Met a wall of resistance another twenty feet and felt the wards explode against my cloak. It burned me, more resistance than when I walked the Final Veil in the Pattern yet like there, I was able to move forward into the obstruction.
“Master,” I called knowing that my intrusion would be felt as well as my use of magic. The wards fell away and I stepped out into another realm akin to the Courts of Chaos where the Laws of Reality were not enforced. Gravity did not exist here, I saw trees and plants floating in clumps as islands in the skies, growing upside down and sideways, water flowing up next to fountains that splayed sideways.
A room opened up in front of me, a palatial chamber with a fountain from which pale gold water splashed into a well that looked fathomless. I trod across marble floors of ivory shot with veins of real gold and the furniture was gilt. Servants moved silently about performing chores, not one acknowledged me.
I walked upon a carpet of mauve interwoven with gold wire towards the figure I saw lounging catlike upon a throne on the far wall. Beyond that, I looked down on a scene of pastoral nightmare. Dead and diseased crops, starving animals and demon kin roaming the land looking for food.
“Master,” I approached the throne and dropped to my knees waiting. He barely glanced at me.
“Are you another construct the Logus has sent to mock me, ghost? I laid you to rest upon a funeral bier myself.”
“Did you stay to see me burn, Master?” I asked, keeping my eyes on him.
“My Blackbird would not be so bold and brave as you, shade. Begone before I pull the power of this node down upon your master,” he retorted.
I drew out my leaf dagger and slit my palm, letting the drops of blood fall on his hand. “Once, you told me my blood was royal and pure, Master. Do you still find it so?”
He tasted it and his face stilled, his whole body tensed as if a string pulled taut and ready to snap. “Corbel? Is it really you?” he asked and there was hope in his gray eyes. “The spell worked?”
“No, Master. The Logus returned me but in a breakable state. I now can die and neither can you use that spell on me again. Once I am dead this time, I shall stay dead.”
“Why did you come back?”
“Master, where else would I go?” I asked and dropped my gaze, hiding my hatred.
He reached out a hand and pulled me up by my collar, a choke hold that constricted my breathing. His fingers forced my chin up, digging into the bony pressure points of my jaw. Pain flared in my mouth and neck, he felt the sudden shaking of my rage and mistook it for fear.
“You still fear me, my lovely Blackbird,” he gloated and wrenched my arm behind my back dragging me over to his couch. My mouth instantly went dry and I tensed, ready to fight him. Stopped and let myself go limp and willing. He forced me down and held me with his body, his hands ripping at my clothes, throwing weapons and garments to the floor. Pulled himself free from his own pants.
“Master, please don’t hurt me,” I whispered with an effort. I wanted to sink both daggers in his arching back. “I came to you willingly. The Logus said you are not to defile me or it will pull its support from your side.”
He stopped his pursuit of me and stared into my eyes. “The Logus spoke to you?”
“Yes, Master. It told me I must choose sides or be destroyed,” I answered.
“And you chose mine,” he sneered.
“No, Master. I chose neither, an option that infuriated the Logus. It sent me back to die upon your funeral pyre but I awoke and freed myself.”
“How did you get here?”
“I returned to the battle lines and trumped myself to your room in the Tower in the Palisades. I met Steen and he told me where to find you.”
“You lie, Corbel,” he snarled and hit me. His fist smashed into my chin and instantly, I tasted blood, stars pin-pricked my vision as my head snapped back into the couch armrest. He kissed me, licking the blood off my open mouth, his tongue invading my throat. I gagged and pushed him away only to have him rain blows upon me until I passed out. Providing him with the pleasure I had denied him earlier. In fact, the Master preferred his sexual gratification in blood and pain rather than in the act of penetration.